Celia was smiling. Not a polite, fleeting smile. A full and genuine one that lifted her whole face. The boy spoke to her as though they had known each other for years. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a wrapped sandwich. He offered half to her with a friendly nod. She accepted it. She mimicked the way he held the bread, taking a small enthusiastic bite.
Alastair leaned over the tablet as though it were sacred.
Her lips moved.
He replayed the clip slowly. The movement was deliberate. She formed a single soft word. The clarity of it hit him like a blow.
She said “Hi.”
A sound escaped him, halfway between disbelief and relief. He practically ran through the house and out to the garden. Dry leaves crunched under his feet as he approached the steps. The boy saw him first and immediately stood up. Fear flashed across his face. He positioned himself protectively in front of Celia even though she was still seated.
“I did not do anything wrong, sir,” the boy said quickly. “She just came out here. She seemed lonely. I talked to her, that is all. I will leave. Please do not call anyone.”