Free Catch Your Death by Louise Voss, Mark Edwards Page A

laptop so we can…’ He stopped himself, realising he’d forgotten something. ‘Morning Jack,’ he said.
    ‘ Hello. Um.’ He looked to his mum for help.
    Paul laughed. ‘Don’t worry, mate, I couldn’t remember names when I was your age either.’
    Jack looked puzzled. ‘My name’s Jack, not mate. You smell funny.’
    ‘ Jack!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘Sorry about that. You don’t smell funny. You smell…nice.’
    Paul’s face twisted with awkwardness as he struggled to find a response. He was saved by Jack saying, ‘Mummy, what are we having for breakfast? I’m hungry.’
    ‘ How about going to Starbucks?’ Paul asked. He added, ‘They have wi-fi there.’
    ‘ They might have wi-fi, but I’m not sure if you can get a very healthy breakfast there,’ Kate said. But now Jack wanted to go to Starbucks. She gave in. McDonalds yesterday, now this. When this was over she was going to feed Jack nothing but organic fruit and vegetables for a month.
    Paul said, ‘I called my parents last night. I just wanted to double check that they hadn’t received any letters from Stephen before he died, just in case he wrote to them too. They hadn’t, and then I felt bad for ringing and stirring things up, making them think about him.’
    Kate touched his arm. ‘I imagine they think about him every day anyway.’
    ‘ Yeah. I guess you’re right.’
    ‘ They say you never get over the loss of a child.’ She had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the din of milk being frothed in big stainless steel jugs.
    Paul frowned. ‘I just wish that sometimes they’d realise that even though they lost one child, they still have another.’
    Kate waited for him to continue, but at that moment they reached the head of the queue, and the barista took their order. She looked at his profile as he paid for them all, and felt that familiar tightness in her throat. Don’t cry, she fiercely told herself.
    They found a table at the back of the coffee shop and sat down. Kate was remonstrating with Jack– ‘No, you can’t have a cake for breakfast, Jack’ – even though the pressure in her throat and behind her eyes had increased so much that she could barely speak. She had to get up again immediately.
    ‘ I just need to go to the loo. Jack, be a good boy.’
    In the toilet, Kate put her face in her hands and let the tears come. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, laughing at herself as she looked at the creature in the mirror with the mascara streaks. She quickly washed her face in the sink. She doubted Paul would notice the sudden absence of mascara, unless he was an unusually observant man. What if he knew she’d been crying and asked why? What would she tell h im?
    She fixed a smile in place and came out of the bathroom.
    They were gone.
    To experience that feeling of panic, of your heart whooshing up through your chest, once in twenty-four hours was bad enough. Twice was too much. Why had she trusted this stranger? He must have been hired by Vernon to snatch Jack, and she had fallen for it.
    There was no logic in this, of course, but in a moment of panic, logic vanishes, even when you’re a professor of science.
    She felt the tears rushing back to the surface, tears of despair and anger this time, and fear. She’d lost her son. She’d lost him, she’d lost him, she’d–
    ‘ Hey, mummy!’
    They had just moved to a different table, Jack and Paul with Billy the robot perched on the chair between them. She crossed the room on rubber legs. Paul had his laptop open. He said, ‘Jack wanted to sit by the window. Are you okay? You look pale.’
    ‘ I’m fine.’ She quickly composed herself, glancing at the newspaper that lay between them, finding herself hooked by the headline. The lead story was about a “controversial” scientist who’d been found murdered in his lab. Animal rights extremists were being blamed, although they denied involvement. There was a heartbreaking picture of the doctor with his family. The