Читать книгу Trapped: The Terrifying True Story of a Secret World of Abuse онлайн | страница 36

Phillipa, Phoebe’s mother, lingered behind: although clearly younger than her husband, she looked tired, concern etched onto her features. While Robin gave the impression he had just returned from some exotic holiday in Dubai, his wife looked as if this was her first venture into the sunshine for several months. Her skin appeared washed out and she gave off an anguished air. It seemed that Robin was coping with the sudden separation from his daughter with more ease than Phillipa.

‘Hello, darling,’ she said in lady-like, reedy tones, once Phoebe had released her grip on her father. I wasn’t sure if it was just her middle-class accent but her voice sounded brittle to me, lacking in any warmth.

‘Hello, darling,’ Phoebe repeated, rebuffing her mother’s attempt to cuddle up to her. Phillipa’s lips drew into a tight line. So, you find her parrot behaviour infuriating too, I thought, noticing the flash of irritation in her expertly kohl-lined eyes.

As Robin shook my hand the cuff of his shirt shifted, revealing an expensive watch on his wrist. ‘Shall we?’ he asked in an impressive, well-educated accent, gesturing to a nearby table. He smiled charmingly as he pulled out a chair for me to sit down. Waving Emily and Jamie along to the opposite end of the table, I seated myself between my children and the temporarily reunited family. It was close enough to monitor their conversation but far enough away to allow them a little privacy too.

Glancing around, I was grateful to see that the place was near-empty, in case the smell of pizza should set off Phoebe’s gagging again. Jamie scanned the drinks menu. Emily feigned an interest but every so often she took a surreptitious peep sideways, eyeing Phoebe’s parents. At 14, Emily was old enough to stay at home but had asked to come along. I think she was as curious to meet them as I was.

Once we were settled in our seats, Robin lifted his hand and seconds later a waiter appeared. Phoebe cuddled up to her father, bouncing up and down so that her head kept bumping into his chin. ‘Careful, darling.’ She ignored him, continuing to bob furiously and squealing loudly. Patiently, he craned his neck, ordering drinks over the top of her head.