Page 41 of Strap In
But her sarcasm passes over the curly little head. ‘I know.’
‘Well.’ Aaliyah claps her hands together. ‘I’ll leave you three to your adventures. See you at five!’
Panic claws at Jean’s chest as the mother kisses Evie and turns, closing the door behind her with dreadful finality. The implication being that she – Jean Howard – is now partially responsible for this child.
But neither aunt nor niece seems fazed by Aaliyah’s departure. Evie chatters quite happily on the journey, first by foot and then by tube. On Ava’s other side, as her lover asks serious questions about starting Rainbows, Jean can’t help but wonder how she wound up here. How they went from red hot passion to rabbits.
And yet it’s fascinating, this glimpse into Ava’s life. She throws herself into the role of aunt with vigour, teasing and threading them both into the conversation until Evie grows used to Jean. Such outings are clearly regular events – Evie takes Ava’s hand automatically as they step from the tube out into the busy station, and again each time they approach a road to cross.
In the queue for the petting zoo, where Ava matter-of-factly points out it’s cheaper to get a family pass and insists on paying, Jean takes a chance with Evie. ‘So,’ she says, as they wait by the entrance. ‘Why does Ava call you Peanut?’
‘She says I looked like a peanut when I was born.’ Her tiny nose wrinkles. ‘But Mummy showed me photos and I was very cute.’
Still is, though Jean knows better than to voice such thoughts. ‘You know, she calls me Jellybean.’
Evie giggles, exposing pearly white milk teeth. ‘That’s silly.’
‘I think so too,’ Jean says. ‘But I don’t mind. Not really.’
After that, she and Evie become allies of sorts. When Ava’s arms grow tired, she lets Jean lift her up to continue patting the llamas, and all her hours with Grant pay off – though Evie is tiny, the child is solid, far heavier than Jean would have guessed. In return Evie allows Jean to stroke the velvety ears of the bunny sprawled across her lap – Jean pretends not to notice Ava photographing this moment. Evie even tips some of the feed from her paper packet onto Jean’s hand as well as Ava’s, so that all three of them can feed the chickens.
In the guinea pig enclosure, they watch as a staff member carries a sack laden with vegetables into the rodents’ pen. The moment the boy steps through the gate, the fluffy creatures emit a chorus of high-pitched squeaks, swarming him so intently that Jean considers it a minor miracle none are crushed under his heavy work boots.
‘Look at them go,’ Jean says. ‘Like ambulance chasers after a car crash.’
Ava laughs as the boy tips lettuce leaves, kale, and carrot out for the horde of furry menaces. ‘That’s the only thing I’d hate more than corporate – no offence.’
‘None taken,’ Jean says, surprised to find that she means it.
Evie tugs on Ava’s sleeve. ‘What’s corporate?’
‘It’s the kind of law that Jean practises. To do with big, big companies.’
Evie looks up at Jean with fresh curiosity. ‘Are you a lawyer like Aunty Ava?’
‘You’re right that I’m a lawyer.’ Jean crouches to look Evie in the eye. ‘But not quite like your aunt. I work with a firm, which is a group of lawyers that work together as a team. Like the guinea pigs surrounding that boy so he’ll feed them faster.’
Evie considers. ‘Do you put bad guys in jail?’
‘Not often.’ Jean’s smile grows rueful; how to explain the ins and outs of her days in a way that won’t dent a small child’s faith in right and wrong? ‘I make sure companies don’t get in trouble, or I help them get bigger.’
‘That’s boring,’ Evie says, watching two guinea pigs squabble over a carrot top.
‘Peanut,’ Ava chides.
But Jean only laughs. ‘It can be dull. But tell me, what would you like to be when you grow up?’
‘That’s easy. I’m going to be prime minister.’ The curly head tilts. ‘Or a famous scientist. I haven’t decided yet.’
They part ways at the train station, Ava shifting as if she means to hug Jean goodbye, only to freeze. And Jean is glad of her restraint, or should be – it’s ridiculous to get wistful when they’ll see one another again in two or three days. There’s no telling when she’ll see Evie again, though. So, Jean shakes the small hand, barely wide enough to span her own palm, and tells the girl it was a pleasure to meet her.
Chapter Seventeen
Hugo breezes into her office on a tide of Boucheron and braggadocio. He straddles the chair before Jean’s desk and launches into an explanation of the meeting with Wexler’s underlings; how they’d spent the session dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s – a concession here, a demand there. The whole time Nowicki had sat in the corner, silent and impassive – unsettling because neither he nor Rhona had been able to discern her purpose.
‘I mean, it’s not like she’s a lawyer.’ Hugo scoffs, not bothering to hide his disdain. ‘Surely it would’ve made more sense for Wexler himself to be there.’
It’s a valuable piece of the puzzle, even if Jean can’t yet tell where it fits. Nowicki’s purpose had nothing to do with the law – but what else might Leonides want from her? ‘This is all very well, Hugo, but where’s Rhona?’
