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each side.

      Isaac nodded. But as Edward had worked she’d felt the excitement ebb out of her son’s body, and now he was leaning against her legs with an air of boredom, his eyes on the television.

      ‘Is it time for my programme, Mum?’

      ‘Which programme, Isaac?’

      ‘You know. Eddie and the Magic Fish.’

      ‘Don’t you want to wait until the kite’s finished?’

      ‘I want to see my programme.’

      She saw the hurt in Edward’s eyes. ‘Okay. Come upstairs. You can see it there.’

      There was a television in the guest bedroom, and perhaps it was best to let Isaac watch TV while Edward finished the kite. When they got to the point of flying it—and she was sure that Edward wouldn’t be able to wait to try out the magnificent creation—Isaac’s interest would be rekindled and everyone would be happy.

      She left Isaac sprawled on her bed, clutching Stinky, captivated for the moment by the adventures of the Magic Fish. When she went back downstairs, the sitting room was empty. Charlotte could see Edward in the garden, ranging restlessly along the far end of the lawn, kicking at the inconsistencies in the smooth line between grass and flowerbeds.

      Perhaps he needed to be left alone for a while, with his thoughts. He’d work it out; the mathematics weren’t all that difficult. Isaac was five, and there were times when Edward’s focussed ardour for the task in hand simply left him behind.

      But there were elements to this equation that intellect, even one as all-consuming as Edward’s, couldn’t grasp. Twisting her mouth, and in defiance of all that was logical, Charlotte slipped through the open French windows and walked across the grass towards him.

      He was lost in his thoughts, seeming not to notice her. ‘Given up, then?’ She might as well start with a challenge, if that was the way she meant to go on.

      ‘The kite’s finished.’

      ‘Yes, I saw that.’

      He turned to her, giving her a speculative look, as if he was trying to weigh the situation up. ‘He didn’t like the kite. That’s okay. Isaac’s free to have his own likes and dislikes...’

      ‘Edward, did you ever go to school?’

      He blinked at her, struggling to make the connection. ‘As it happens, no. By the time I was five I’d already got a handle on calculus and my parents had me tutored at home.’

      There was a note of sadness in his voice.

      ‘That must have been lonely.’

      He shrugged. ‘I don’t have anything to compare it with.’

      ‘When everything’s fine, you don’t need anything to compare it with.’

      There was something dull in his eyes as he focussed on her. ‘You’re saying I don’t play well with others.’ One hand clenched into a fist. ‘That’s not exactly an original thought.’

      He just wasn’t listening to her. It was as if it had been drilled into Edward that being clever meant that you didn’t have a heart. ‘Maybe it’s just a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you believe it’s true, then ultimately it is.’

      He glared at her. ‘And you have a better idea?’

      He turned, as if the conversation was now at an end. He was used to having the last word. Used to being right.

      ‘Don’t be so arrogant...’ Even before he turned back she knew that she’d missed the mark by about a mile. Edward might look and sound arrogant, but somewhere beneath that there was a lonely child.

      ‘I am what I am, Charlotte. If you want to think that’s arrogant, then go right ahead.’

      All of his defences were up now. The aloof, unsmiling man, whom no one seemed to be able to get close to, was turning away from her again.

      She did the unthinkable. Marched straight up to him and grabbed his arm, pulling him around to face her. ‘You don’t fool me, Edward. I’ve seen you with Isaac. I saw you with Mercy the other day.’

      Something behind his eyes ignited. Dark blue ice turning to sparkling heat. There was more than enough emotion here. It was just a matter of whether she could deal with it. Whether Edward could deal with it, without ducking back into the comfort of his books.

      ‘Mercy opened up to you, not me.’

      ‘Edward! Sometimes I want to shake some sense into you...!’

      The provocative twitch of his lips told her that she could go right ahead, if that was her inclination, and she resisted the urge.

      ‘What on earth happened to you when you were a child?’

      ‘You think I was a poor little bright boy, with his nose in a book and no friends? It wasn’t like that.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Not quite like that, anyway.’

      ‘What was it like, then?’

      ‘I was different. By the time I was ten I could keep up with a university undergraduate on an intellectual level. On a social level, I wasn’t quite ready for women, all-night parties and beer-drinking contests. It was difficult to find my own space.’

      ‘You felt out of step, you mean? Your emotions and theirs?’

      He looked at her gravely. Then suddenly he smiled. ‘Most people assume I don’t have any emotions.’

      His look taunted her. Dared her to tell him different.

      ‘That’s not true, though, is it?’ She dared him back.

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      The dare turned dangerous all of a sudden. He was waiting for her to kiss him. Charlotte baulked at that one.

      ‘Look, Edward, I know that you’re used to being better and faster at everything than everyone else, and that it’s a lot easier to do things by yourself. But if you want Isaac to be interested in what you’re doing then you have to slow down a bit and do things at his pace.’

      He hesitated. ‘I’m...not very good at that. As you can see.’

      ‘No one’s born good at things like that—you have to learn. You’re supposed to be a genius. Can’t you learn? Or don’t you want to learn?’

      ‘I want to.’ The admission was a little stiff, and left Edward nonplussed for a moment. ‘Why don’t you go and tell Isaac...?’

      She glared at him and he grinned.

      ‘Why don’t I go and tell him myself?’

      ‘Good idea.’

      ‘Right.’ He clapped his hands together, as if he was about to embark on one of the most complex experiments of his life. ‘Do you think he’d like his own kite? One that’s more his size, perhaps?’

      Charlotte almost told him no, that Isaac didn’t need a kite. But she knew he’d want one, and Edward needed this.

      ‘I think he’d love that. Go and ask him.’

      * * *

      Edward didn’t deal in half-measures. The shop he took them to sold nothing but kites, and on a bright late summer’s morning, was full of people. He led Isaac straight to a selection of different coloured children’s kites, and the two of them became immediately absorbed in sorting through them. Charlotte decided to leave them to it.

      ‘I’m just going to pop to the chemist, to buy some soap. I won’t be long. Stay here with Edward, won’t you, Isaac?’ She nudged his shoulder with her hand.

      Isaac ignored her in favour of the kites, and Edward looked up at her. He seemed to know how hard it always was for her to leave Isaac, even for a few minutes, and he took hold of the boy’s hand as a gesture

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