The Dinosaur Feather

her hand.
    Her mobile rang on her way back to the department. It was Jens.
    ‘Hi, Dad,’ she said.
    ‘Anna, hi.’ He sounded breathless. ‘I’m on a job. In Odense, as it happens.’
    ‘Right,’ Anna said. She was walking down the glass corridor which connected the museum and the Institute of Biology.
    ‘Listen, Anna,’ he said. ‘Your mum just called me. She sounded quite upset.’
    ‘Right,’ Anna said again.
    ‘What’s going on?’ Jens asked. ‘I understand that you’re under a lot of pressure, but be nice to your mum, please? She does so much for you, Anna sweetheart.’
    Anna glowed red hot with rage. She was speechless.
    ‘She says you screamed at her and hung up. What’s that all about?’
    Anna finally got her voice under control.
    ‘Please can you explain to me when my mother became so fragile?’ Anna sneered. ‘Since when is she made of glass? Can you tell me that? She’s had special treatment all my life. My whole bloody life.’
    ‘Anna,’ Jens said after a pause. ‘Calm down.’
    ‘No, I won’t!’
    ‘You calm down right now!’ Jens shouted.
    ‘Do you know what you can do? You can call my mother and remind her that Lily is my child. And when she accepts that, then she can call me. For God’s sake, Dad, Cecilie cut Lily’s hair and had her ears pierced without asking me first!’
    Jens was silent.
    Then he said, ‘She’s only trying to help.’
    ‘I don’t need any help,’ she said. ‘From you or her.’
    At four o’clock that afternoon, she picked Lily up from nursery.

CHAPTER 8
     
    Clive woke up in his house on Vancouver Island, wondering why he had slept on the sofa. Then he remembered hitting Kay. He showered and shaved in the guest bedroom. He put eggs on to boil, fried bacon and made toast and tea. He put crockery and cutlery on a tray which he carried out into the garden and set the table. The sun was shining, the air was mild and hazy. Kay always put a tablecloth on first, but Clive couldn’t find one. He found some napkins instead and put the plates on top of them. Then he went upstairs to get Kay.
    The door to the master bedroom was open and Clive could hear the tap running in the en-suite bathroom. He looked into the bedroom and saw Kay’s suitcase on the bed. At that moment, she appeared from the bathroom. She glanced briefly at Clive. They heard a key turn in the front door.
    ‘Mum,’ Franz called out. ‘Where are you?’
    Kay went downstairs. Clive heard her say something.
    ‘No, just go sit in the car,’ Franz replied.
    Franz climbed the stairs to the landing where Clive stood. Franz was tall and tanned, and he worked out. He walked past his father and picked up Kay’s suitcase.
    ‘You’re an idiot, Dad,’ Franz said quietly, on his way back.
    ‘And you’re a mummy’s boy,’ Clive retorted.
    Franz sighed and walked down the stairs with the suitcase. Clive couldn’t understand how he had managed to produce such a useless and pathetic excuse for a man. All brawn and no brain. Shortly afterwards, he heard Franz rev the engine and drive off.
    Downstairs in the kitchen, the saucepan had boiled dry and the eggs were blackened.
    The first three days he barricaded himself in. He unplugged the telephone, switched off his mobile, and didn’t check his e-mails. On the third day, the temptation to look became too great, but Kay hadn’t called or e-mailed him. Nor was there anything from Jack.
    The kitchen looked a mess. On his first day alone, Clive opened every cupboard and lined up tins and dry foods to take stock of the situation. He had seemed to be well provided for, he had thought at the time, but his supply was dwindling fast. He went down the road to shop and as he walked, he pinched his nostrils. He and Kay had never had a proper falling out. During their marriage she had walked out – once – and had been gone for three hours after a row, but she had never left the family home for three days. He didn’t like it.
    Inside the supermarket, Clive got a trolley and stomped angrily up and down the aisles. He bought plenty of cakes, corn on the cob, packets of cold cuts, toilet rolls, two bags of crisps and a crate of beer. The supermarket was practically deserted; it was mid-morning and the obese woman at the checkout was in a chatty mood. When all his shopping had been scanned, she helped him pack and when he pickedup the bags, she said, ‘So, welcome to Patbury Hill. Probably won’t be the last time we’ll be seeing each other.