out on his ear if he starts drinking again?’ she pressed.
‘He does, but let’s assume that he won’t. Did Douglas get hold of you?’
‘Douglas from Hope House? Yes, he did. Apparently he’s lost weight so his belt’s too big and his trousers are falling down. He wants to know how to make a new hole.’
Angie’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘So what did you tell him?’ she asked, able to gauge from Emma’s expression that some sort of irreverence was afoot.
‘I said that if he took himself to Timpson’s in town someone there would be able to help him. He, of course, wanted to do it himself with a hammer and nail, but I reminded him that the last time he’d had those objects in his hands someone had ended up attached to the wall.’
Angie had to laugh. It wasn’t funny really, but the way Emma told it made it sound like a comedy sketch rather than a crime that had ended with his victim in hospital and him behind bars. ‘Do you think the belt story was real?’ she probed.
‘No idea, but it might be worth asking Hamish to pop in later to make sure there’s no live art hanging over the fireplace.’
Choking on another laugh, Angie checked her mobile as it rang. Seeing it was Tamsin, a support worker from the main homeless shelter in town, she clicked on. ‘Hi Tams,’ she said, returning to her desk, ‘If you’ve got any referrals I’m afraid we’re all booked up at the moment.’
‘I wish it were so simple,’ Tamsin responded with a sigh. ‘I’m hoping you or Emma could collect my kids from school when you go for your own.’
Angie said, ‘It’s OK, I’ll take them back to mine.’
‘You’re an angel.’
‘So they keep telling me. What I say is, you just haven’t met my demons yet.’ The instant the words were out she wanted to take them back, return them to the dark and awful place they’d come from, but it was too late. They’d already spilled along the connection, doing their damnedest, and as she looked at her sister she could imagine only too well what both Emma and Tamsin were thinking. Oh, but we have, Angie, we know what you did to your own son, but we won’t talk about it, and we won’t mention what happened to his father either.
‘I hope you’re not peeping,’ Steve warned, glancing at Angie who was next to him in the car, hands over her eyes, as instructed. ‘Or you,’ he added, checking six-year-old Liam in the rear-view mirror.
‘Can’t see anything,’ Liam promised.
Satisfied they weren’t cheating, Steve signalled to turn into a cul-de-sac of twenty mock-Tudor new builds, each with leaded windows and its own small plot of land, front and back. He drew up outside number fourteen, just behind a skip and a few plaster-caked wheelbarrows – though the work was at an end the clearing up was still under way.
Opposite the smart detached residences with their red brick façades and artfully placed wooden beams was a freshly laid green with a stony brook babbling along on the far side sheltered by a couple of magnificent weeping willows and an ironwork footbridge that linked this street to the next.
‘Can we look yet?’ Liam urged from the back. His auburn curls were still damp from a quick swim in the sea and his round cheeks were flushed with excitement. Liam loved surprises, especially when they were a secret from his mother as well.
Steve grinned as Angie parted her fingers, pretending to take a peek. ‘OK, you can look now,’ he announced.
As Angie lowered her hands she gazed around the street of brand spanking new houses, not quite understanding.
‘Oh Dad! There’s a bridge,’ Liam exclaimed in awe, and as though his father had just given him the best thing ever he leapt out of the back to go and investigate.
As they watched him, Angie said, ‘Are we on the Fairweather estate?’
‘We are,’ Steve confirmed.
‘And you,’ she continued to guess, ‘worked on these houses so you’ve brought us to see them before their new owners move in?’
‘Kind of,’ he smiled, and getting out of the compact Peugeot they’d bought for her a couple of years back, he came round to open her door.
‘Dad! Dad! Look at me,’ Liam cried from the bridge, and making certain Steve was watching he raced across it and back again, looking so pleased with himself that Steve wanted to go and swing him up so high he’d scream with delight. He still wasn’t learning as quickly as other children, but it didn’t make him stupid, it was simply that his progress was happening at a different speed. In every other way he was an adorable, playful, and happy young boy who wanted no more than to be everyone’s friend.
Steve and Angie sometimes wondered if Liam’s shortcomings were what made him even more special. Certainly they brought out his father’s protective instincts in a way nothing else ever had. However, they were careful not to smother or overindulge him. They just wanted him to feel like any other child of his age and to know that even when the new baby came, which would be any day now, he would still be their number one.
After almost six years and four heart-breaking miscarriages, Liam was at last going to have a little sister.
‘OK, I give up, what are we supposed to be looking at?’ Angie demanded as Steve tugged her out of the car.
‘It’s the bridge,’ Liam insisted as he ran back to join them.
‘Not quite,’ Steve replied, ‘although it’s a part of it,’ and stooping so Liam could jump on his back, he turned towards the double-fronted house in front of them. ‘This, my darling,’ he said to Angie, feeling so much pride and happiness welling up in him it was hard to keep his voice steady, ‘is our new home.’
Angie blinked, looked at it and then at him. ‘But we can’t afford anything like this,’ she protested.
It was true, they couldn’t, although Steve certainly earned well. His skills as a painter and decorator and all-round Mr Fix-It were always in high demand, but he was so keen for them all to have everything they wanted – her car, Liam’s extra classes, his own sports gear, great holidays – that they’d never managed to save very much. However, now their family was growing they needed somewhere bigger than the small flat they’d been squashed into for the past couple of years. ‘We don’t have to buy it,’ he explained. ‘Hari is going to let us rent it from him at a price we can afford.’
Angie’s mouth fell open as her eyes lit with disbelief and the first hint of excitement.
Apart from being Steve’s boss, Hari Shalik had become like a father figure to them since they’d arrived in Kesterly. In fact, he was the reason they’d moved to this coastal town in the first place. Someone had told him about the high quality of Steve’s work,
