Page 9 of The Bone Season

‘I’m happy where I am.’ My voice came out harder than I had intended. ‘Besides, you think they’d let me graduate, with our last name?’

He hadn’t been there when the Schoolmistress gave me my final report. For a suffocating moment, I was back in that room, facing her.

I’m sorry you chose not to apply for the University, Paige,but it might be for the best, given your … temperament.A folder bearing the school crest.Your employment recommendation. We note your aptitude for Physical Enrichment, French, and Scion History.

She had been rigidly polite, for the sake of the other teacher in the room. But just as I left, she had gripped my shoulder and whispered her parting words in my ear:I’ve waited years to be rid of you.The only way you could have brought more disrepute on this school is if you were unnatural, too.

‘I could arrange something,’ my father said. ‘I’d say I’ve earned their trust by now.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

‘Yes, and I’ll use it to do right by you, for all the good it does me.’ The corners of his mouth tightened. ‘I had no choice, Paige.’

‘I know,’ I said softly. ‘And so do your colleagues. They’ll always know exactly how we got here, and they’ll always know we’re a pair of kerns, whether or not I attend your University.’

He gave me a weary look.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘thank you for that.’

I clenched my jaw. Last time I was here, I had managed not to argue with him.

Fortunately, my father preferred a quiet life. He brought out some cutlery and said, ‘Still living with your boyfriend, are you?’

The boyfriend lie had always been a mistake. Ever since I had invented Steve the Invisible, my father had been asking to meet him.

‘We broke up,’ I said.

‘Sorry to hear that. No harm to the lad, but I did wonder where you were hiding him,’ he said. ‘Where are you staying now, then?’

‘Suzette has a spare room in Holborn.’

‘Suzy from school?’

‘Yes.’

Jaxon must have got back to the den by now. I needed to cut this short.

‘Actually, I might not eat. I’ve had a headache all day,’ I said. ‘Do you mind if I turn in early?’

‘You have so many of these headaches.’

To my surprise, he came up to me and touched my cheek. More often than not, he avoided my gaze, but now he looked me in the face.

‘You rest,’ he said. ‘I’ll make us breakfast tomorrow. I want to hear all your news, seileán.’

I stared at him. He hadn’t made breakfast since I was about twelve, nor called me by that nickname since we had lived in Ireland.

Eleven years and a lifetime ago.

‘I’d like that,’ I said.

‘All right, then. Goodnight, love.’

‘Goodnight.’

I headed for my room. He left the parlour door ajar, as he always did when I was home.

He had never known how to show he cared. To see him trying now was like a knife beween my ribs.

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