Read Online A Conspiracy of Faith by Jussi Adler-Olsen - Free Book Online
Authors: Jussi Adler-Olsen
Ads: Link
be about to call? I know you.”
She held her breath and put the boy down carefully on the floor. “He’s a bit off color today. You know when they’ve got a runny nose the day care says to keep them at home. I think he’s got a temperature.” Cautiously, she allowed herself to breathe. Her whole body was screaming for air.
“I see.”
The pause that followed worried her. Was he expecting her to say something? Was there something she had forgotten? She tried to focus. Stared out through the double glazing at the garden gate opposite. The bare branches. People on their way to work.
“I called more than once yesterday. Do you hear what I’m saying?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry, darling. The phone just went dead on me. I think maybe it needs a new battery.”
“I only charged it on Tuesday.”
“Yes, I know you did. That’s what I mean. Only two days and it was flat. Strange, don’t you think?”
“So you charged it yourself, then? Could you work out how?”
“Yes.” She forced herself to giggle in as carefree a manner as possible. “It was easy, I’ve watched you do it loads of times.”
“I didn’t think you knew where the charger was.”
“Of course I do.” Now her hands were shaking. He knew something wasn’t right. Any second now he would ask where she had found that damned charger, and she had absolutely no idea where he kept it.
Think! Think fast! Her mind raced.
“Listen, I…” She raised her voice a notch. “Oh, Benjamin! Don’t do that!” She gave the boy a little shove with her foot, provoking him to make a sound. Then she glared at him harshly and nudged him again.
When the question came—”Where did you find it, then?”—the child finally began to cry.
“We’ll have to talk later,” she said, sounding concerned. “Benjamin’s hurt himself.”
She snapped the mobile shut, crouched down, and pulled off the boy’s romper, showering him with kisses and comforting noises. “There, there, Benjamin. Mummy’s so sorry, so sorry. She didn’t mean it. Would you like a piece of cake?”
The child sobbed and forgave her with a heavy nod, his big, sad eyes blinking. She thrust a picture book into his hands as the full extent of thecatastrophe slowly manifested itself in her mind. The house they lived in was enormous, three hundred square meters, and the mobile charger could be in any place the size of a fist.
An hour later, not a single drawer, cupboard, or shelf on the ground floor was left unsearched.
And then it struck her: What if they only had the one charger? And what if he had taken it with him? Was his phone the same kind as hers? She didn’t even know.
She fed the little boy, her brow furrowed with concern, and became convinced that that was indeed what had happened. He had taken the charger with him.
She shook her head and scraped the boy’s lips clean with the spoon. But no, when you bought a mobile there was always a charger to go with it. Of course there was. Which meant there was a good chance that somewhere in the house there was a box that had come with the phone, containing a manual and most likely an unused charger. It just wasn’t on the ground floor, that’s all.
She glanced at the stairs leading to the first floor.
There were places in this house she almost never went. Not because he forbade her, but because that’s how it was. Correspondingly, he hardly ever entered her sewing room. They had their own interests, their own oases, and their own time to spend alone, albeit his freedom was the greater.
She sat the child on her hip and went up the stairs, pausing at the door of his office. If she found the box with the charger in one of his drawers or cupboards, how would she then explain her presence in his domain?
She pushed open the door.
In contrast to her own room across the landing, his was devoid of all energy, lacking the zest of color and creative thought so characteristic of her own space. This was a place of gray and off-white
She held her breath and put the boy down carefully on the floor. “He’s a bit off color today. You know when they’ve got a runny nose the day care says to keep them at home. I think he’s got a temperature.” Cautiously, she allowed herself to breathe. Her whole body was screaming for air.
“I see.”
The pause that followed worried her. Was he expecting her to say something? Was there something she had forgotten? She tried to focus. Stared out through the double glazing at the garden gate opposite. The bare branches. People on their way to work.
“I called more than once yesterday. Do you hear what I’m saying?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry, darling. The phone just went dead on me. I think maybe it needs a new battery.”
“I only charged it on Tuesday.”
“Yes, I know you did. That’s what I mean. Only two days and it was flat. Strange, don’t you think?”
“So you charged it yourself, then? Could you work out how?”
“Yes.” She forced herself to giggle in as carefree a manner as possible. “It was easy, I’ve watched you do it loads of times.”
“I didn’t think you knew where the charger was.”
“Of course I do.” Now her hands were shaking. He knew something wasn’t right. Any second now he would ask where she had found that damned charger, and she had absolutely no idea where he kept it.
Think! Think fast! Her mind raced.
“Listen, I…” She raised her voice a notch. “Oh, Benjamin! Don’t do that!” She gave the boy a little shove with her foot, provoking him to make a sound. Then she glared at him harshly and nudged him again.
When the question came—”Where did you find it, then?”—the child finally began to cry.
“We’ll have to talk later,” she said, sounding concerned. “Benjamin’s hurt himself.”
She snapped the mobile shut, crouched down, and pulled off the boy’s romper, showering him with kisses and comforting noises. “There, there, Benjamin. Mummy’s so sorry, so sorry. She didn’t mean it. Would you like a piece of cake?”
The child sobbed and forgave her with a heavy nod, his big, sad eyes blinking. She thrust a picture book into his hands as the full extent of thecatastrophe slowly manifested itself in her mind. The house they lived in was enormous, three hundred square meters, and the mobile charger could be in any place the size of a fist.
An hour later, not a single drawer, cupboard, or shelf on the ground floor was left unsearched.
And then it struck her: What if they only had the one charger? And what if he had taken it with him? Was his phone the same kind as hers? She didn’t even know.
She fed the little boy, her brow furrowed with concern, and became convinced that that was indeed what had happened. He had taken the charger with him.
She shook her head and scraped the boy’s lips clean with the spoon. But no, when you bought a mobile there was always a charger to go with it. Of course there was. Which meant there was a good chance that somewhere in the house there was a box that had come with the phone, containing a manual and most likely an unused charger. It just wasn’t on the ground floor, that’s all.
She glanced at the stairs leading to the first floor.
There were places in this house she almost never went. Not because he forbade her, but because that’s how it was. Correspondingly, he hardly ever entered her sewing room. They had their own interests, their own oases, and their own time to spend alone, albeit his freedom was the greater.
She sat the child on her hip and went up the stairs, pausing at the door of his office. If she found the box with the charger in one of his drawers or cupboards, how would she then explain her presence in his domain?
She pushed open the door.
In contrast to her own room across the landing, his was devoid of all energy, lacking the zest of color and creative thought so characteristic of her own space. This was a place of gray and off-white
Similar Books
