The books had arrived regardless.
Doti winked at her. ‘The post office does it every year,’ he whispered. ‘I thought he might like one.’Louis, who could recognise his own name printed in gold, was turning the envelope over and over like it was the most precious object he’d ever seen.
‘Mummy!’ he breathed.‘Are you going to open it?’ said Pearl.Louis shook his head. ‘NO.’
‘Who do you think it’s from?’ said Doti.Louis held it away from him, still with a wondering look in his eye.
‘Is it … is it from Santa?’
Doti took the envelope. ‘See this,’ he said, pointing. ‘This is a postmark. Remember I showed you before? It tells you where the letter was posted and what date.’Yes, there most certainly was an explanation … but she was abruptly scared of what it might be.
All in all, Peyton had it good.He was reclining in his bed, his every need catered to by his family’s staff, his pain controlled by some Oxys that were, for once, entirely legal. And what do you know, his head was working fine—i.e., it was running his body and generating reasonable thought processes—like, yes, definitely, he wanted the underdog Louisville Cardinals to beat Kentucky in men’s basketball.
He had good money bet in Vegas with his bookie.But he couldn’t say he was happy. Even with the feel-fine opiate in his system.