Free Coming Down by Carrie Elks Page B

asleep when I know we’re not; neither of us mentioning Daisy or the clinic. When I went to visit Allegra last weekend, he didn’t bother asking me where I was going. I didn’t volunteer the information, either.
    “ Do you know if my suit came back from the cleaners? I want to wear it tonight.” Another thing he does: leaves all things domestic until the last minute. I don’t think that’s why he’s calling this time; we both know his suit came back last Friday. He’s trying to remind me we are going out tonight.
    “ It’s there. I should be home after seven. What time are we leaving?” The last thing I want to do after taking ten kids around an art gallery is go out to some dry, work-related dinner party. They’re clients of Simon’s and it’s important to him, though, so I’ll pull on a dress and paint my face and make small talk as I always do.
    That doesn ’t mean I have to like it.
    “ Drinks at eight thirty. Try not to be late.”
    Thanks, Dad.
    “Mmhmm.” I hang up, biting my tongue to prevent a pithy response. Even if the train arrives on time, I’ll be ten minutes late. I hastily tap out a text and send it to Niall.
    When I get to the clinic it ’s mayhem. The lobby is full of kids, shouting out questions at a harassed-looking Niall. His face lights up when he sees me walk into the room. Smiling, he takes a step forward and reaches for my hand. “You’re here.”
    “ Of course I am. And the bus is outside,” I say.
    A look of relief washes over him. Does he even know what he’s let himself in for? We may have limited this expedition to ten children—mostly so we can all fit in one minibus—but that’s still a lot of bodies to be following around one very large art gallery.
    He gives the impression he hasn’t had a lot to do with children. Looks on them as mini-adults. Which is great when you’re in the classroom; it makes them feel mature and liked, and that’s why they respond to him so well. But when we’re out in public, in the middle of a gallery that he has associations with… not quite so good.
    “ Let’s go. Come on, everybody.” Niall heads for the door and they all follow him. Cameron Gibbs pushes everybody out of the way and runs toward the bus, calling dibs on the back seat. There are a few stragglers who hang back with me, afraid of the older boys and their over-eagerness.
    Allegra folds her hand around mine. “Shall we go?”
    “ Sure, lead the way.”
    Predictably, there’s a pile-up in the minibus as everybody fights for seats. I end up having to pull Cameron Gibbs off another boy. His hand has already curled into a pretty sizeable fist. I whisper in his ear that I’m watching him, and he rolls his eyes at me.
    Cameron has one of those unfortunate faces. A thin, almost mean mouth which, combined with a heavy brow and narrow eyes, serves to make him look like a thug in training. He could be the sweetest kid in the world—which he isn’t—and still he’d be the first to get into trouble. Dragged to the headmaster’s room after a fight, or up in front of a magistrate after a robbery. A usual suspect waiting to happen.
    N ow he’s growing into his looks. On the cusp of puberty, he’s developing an air of menace about him. I’m unsure how much of it is bluster and how much is malevolence, but he’s changing in front of my eyes. Whenever he’s around there’s an edge to the atmosphere. I hate that I can’t stop him from growing up this way.
    After everybody ’s sat down, I grab the only seat left—next to Niall. He looks up from his phone and smiles warmly at me.
    “ You’re good at that.”
    “ Shouting at kids?”
    “ No, you’re good at dealing with them. You know what to say and how to say it. I can tell they trust you.”
    Farther back in the minibus, Cameron is still glowering. While we were having words somebody else stole his seat. He’s not happy about it at all.
    “ Some of them do,” I say.
    “ Are you planning to have kids of your