Kissed a Sad Goodbye

the steps leading to the flat, his arms wrapped round his knees, his bag beside him. He watched, unsmiling, as Kincaid pulled up to the curb, and did not rise to greet him.
    Kincaid got out and crossed the street. “I’m sorry, Kit. I got hung up.”
    Kit didn’t look at him. “I’ve rung Laura and told her not to meet the train.”
    “We’ll get you on the next one, then I’ll let her know when to pick you up.” When Kit didn’t respond, Kincaid jingled his keys impatiently in his pocket and added, “Have you said goodbye to the Major?”
    This elicited a scathing glance. “Of course I have. And thanked him. Do you think I was brought up in a barn?” Kincaid closed his eyes for an instant and took a deep breath, the equivalent of counting to ten. “Well, shall we go, then? The sooner we get you to the station, the sooner you’ll be... back in Cambridge.” He had almost said “home.” But since his mother’s death in April, Kit had been without a real home.
    Kit stood, his face averted, and trudged to the car as if his feet were mired in treacle. When Kincaid had stowed the boy’s holdall in the Rover’s boot, he got in beside him, pausing when he put the key in the ignition. “We’ll go on to King’s Cross, then if there’s time before the next train, I’ll take you for something to eat. And you still won’t be very late back.”
    “It doesn’t matter now. I’ll have missed Tess’s obedience class,” Kit said stonily, his eyes fixed on some invisible point in the windscreen.
    “You didn’t tell me Tess had an obedience class.”
    “I never had a chance, did I? I’ve hardly seen you all weekend.”
    “Kit. I said I was sorry. But sometimes things come up—”
    Swinging round to face him, Kit spat out, “You’re always late.” Red spots flared across his cheekbones and he rubbed the back of a fist across his trembling lower lip. “You say you’ll do something, then you don’t keep your word. You’re just like my dad.”
    Kincaid clenched his hands round the steering wheel. “Give me a chance, will you, Kit? I’ve never done this before. It’s hard enough for me to juggle my job—”
    “Then don’t bother.” Kit turned away, his lips clamped tight and his chin thrust up in defiant bravado. “It’s just the same old crap, isn’t it? My dad—”
    “Just because I have a commitment to my job doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. I’m not going to lose interest, and I’m not going anywhere.”
    “Dad did. He—”
    “Goddamn it, Kit, we’re not talking about Ian, we’re talking about me. And I’m your dad.” Kincaid heard his words with horror, but it was too late to recall them.
    Kit stared at him. “That’s bollocks. What are you talking about?”
    Bloody hell, Kincaid thought. What had he done? Shaking his head, he said, “I never meant to tell you this way. But I’m certain I’m your father. I thought—”
    “That’s daft. My dad’s in France.”
    “Look at me, Kit.” Kincaid reached for Kit’s shoulder, but the boy flinched away. “Look at my face, then look at yourself in the mirror.” He flipped down the passenger side visor. “You are the spitting image of me at the same age. My mother saw it instantly. I see it every time I look at you.”
    “I don’t believe you,” Kit said, but he darted a look at the glass.
    Pulling his wallet from his pocket, Kincaid extracted two dog-eared photos. “My mother sent me this one. I was eleven.” He handed it to Kit, who accepted it reluctantly; then he held up the second photo. “This one I took from your mum’s office.” Vic and Kit stood arm in arm in the back garden of the cottage in Grantchester, laughing into the camera. “You can see the resemblance, too, can’t you?”
    “No.” Kit shook his head and dropped the photo of Kincaid in the console. “I don’t believe it. My mum wouldn’t have...” His eyes strayed to the photo again.
    “This doesn’t mean your mum did anything wrong, Kit. You know we were married before she married Ian. She must have been pregnant with you when we separated.”
    “She’d have told me. Mum told me everything.”
    “You must see that she couldn’t. She was with Ian by then, and she wanted you to think of him as your father.” And then Ian had abandoned them. After Ian’s defection, Vic had brought Kincaid back into her life, and Kit’s, but they would never be sure what she’d intended for them.
    Kit kneaded the knees of his jeans