She got the screen door open, slid the key into the lock, and right away, I heard the barking start. “He knows it’s you,” she said. “Don’t ask me how.” The door opened. The dog raced out, yipping like a lunatic—first excited to see her, then seeing me, taking a few steps my way, swinging his head and racing back to her, then looking round at me again. “Guy’s so happy,” she said, “there needs to be two of him.”
The little, high-pitched squeaks were a bit at odds with the pit bull’s fearsome reputation. Still, when I bent to pet him, he jumped at me and almost knocked me down.
Thirty seconds later I was shaking hands with Angel’s mum and dad. We’d never met before. I felt like I was sixteen all over again, dragged inside to meet the girlfriend’s parents. I just about remembered I was in the States and called them “Sir” and “Ma’am.” “It’s Charles,” said Sir. “Evelyn,” said Ma’am. Evelyn made coffee. They all sat down like adults. But for me. I sat there like a gawky teenager, wondering how, after all these years, I still hadn’t grown up.
Chapter 15
Man to Man
Charles Farthing was a big guy—tall the way Angel was tall, and with a broad, high-cheekboned face that seemed to mirror hers. I’d guess he’d been an athlete in in his youth—football, basketball—but the years had piled the weight around his waist and these days when he sat he looked as if he’d stuffed a beach ball up his shirt. His belly made a perfect dome. His hair was thinning, and the light caught flecks of white in his goatee. Evelyn, by contrast, was small and rapid, constantly darting back and forth into the kitchen, to make coffee, or check on dinner.
I liked them both immediately. And I wanted them to like me, too.
Charles asked about my journey, and my business in New York. I bluffed and told him it had gone about as well as I’d expected, thanks very much. He told me he had been there for the US Open, and I pretended to be interested in that. He named the players, and I nodded.
Angel said, “Chris isn’t a sports fan.”
I protested. “I watch the odd match. You know—the big ones. But I travel a lot—”
I wanted to keep things light, and ordinary. Soon, though, Angel and her mum went off into the kitchen, and Charles said, “Time for a real drink,” and I was pretty sure that I was going to get the man-to-man stuff, the what-are-your-intentions-for-my-daughter speech. But it didn’t go like that. We drank JD and ice. He asked about the Registry. He asked about Field Ops. And I fell back on the easy answers, the company-approved line. He listened. Then he put his glass down, steepled his fingers.
“I want you,” he said, “to tell me the risks.”
The light in the room was dying. The sun was going down. Deep shadows filled his face, and his eyes were steady, gleaming with the last of the day’s sun.
“You understand me?”
“I . . . understand.”
His gaze didn’t let up. I took a drink. I shifted in my seat.
“I won’t deny—there’s been moments . . .”
But I told him there were protocols, procedures, safety checks. I told him there was less danger than being a cop, or a soldier, or—
“You were in hospital, she said.”
“That was a while ago. And it was more . . . peripheral factors. You know?”
“I don’t know.”
“People.” I took a sip. “I tell you—nine times out of ten, something goes wrong, it’s not the job, it’s the people.”
“Well. I can relate to that.” He smiled, and I felt myself relax. “Teaching profession—well, everybody reckons it’s the kids that give you trouble. Ain’t the case, though, nine times out of ten. Turns out, the kids are fine, most of ’em. It’s the guys you work with, or the parents, or the state, or—” He waved a hand, as if to brush it all away.
“That’s it,” I said.
But he kept looking at me.
He’d mentioned hospital. I hadn’t answered him, and he was waiting.
“Chicago,” I said, presently. “I got pretty badly beaten up. It was Angel pulled me out of that one, actually.”
“That so?”
“She—yeah. She saved my life, I’d say. She’s good. I’ve got confidence in her.”
“She didn’t tell the story that way. But she saved you?”
I nodded.
He took a drink. I took a drink.
“She’s determined on this,” he said.
I wasn’t sure it was a question, but I said, “She is.”
“Girl sets her mind to something, no point trying to stop her. She’s—” He brought his hand down sharply. “She’s like her mom in that. That’s where she gets it from, not me.”
“That’s her.”
“She could have been a lawyer. Doctor. Just about anything she set her mind to. But no, she wants to study music, and that’s what she does. Doesn’t want to make a record, be a star, like most kids. No. Just wants to study, wants to understand. And when her mom and me don’t have the money to support her, she says, fine, I’ll get a job. And she does that.”
“More than one,” I said.
He opened the bottle, refilled my glass and then his own. “You want more ice?”