in spite of still taking on all the extra jobs she could, it was impossible to make ends meet.
Grace, because she was Grace, had lately begun challenging her mother and brother to find the best bargains online or in charity shops, and they’d had some stunning successes: a pair of brand-new Nikes at Oxfam for Zac, price tag still taped to the bottom and half a size too big so he could grow into them, how perfect was that? A last-season white Zara blazer for Grace that would have cost fifty quid in the shop, and was just two pounds at Blue Cross (only a button missing, which was easily fixed). They’d even found a padded winter coat for Angie and wrapped it up for her birthday – what a memorable moment it had been when she’d opened it – it fitted, and they’d told her it had only cost a tenner (five quid contributed by Auntie Em). They’d jumped up and down with triumph, thinking themselves the smartest (in every sense) people alive, and how stupid was everyone else to pay full price?
It had also been Grace’s idea to try and sell their old toys and clothes on eBay or Depop, while Angie began visiting a pawnshop in the old town, a place she hadn’t even known existed while Steve was alive. By now she’d forfeited the white-gold watch he’d given her for her thirtieth; an emerald-studded bracelet he’d once accepted from an old lady in lieu of payment for decorating her kitchen; a pair of binoculars that had belonged to his father; his paintbrushes, best toolkit and protective gear; the rocking horse he’d carved for Liam; his surfboards; just about everything she could raise a few pounds for, right down to the electric heaters for when it was especially cold. Each time she went she felt as though she was giving away more pieces of her heart. All she had left to pawn now was her wedding ring, and the nine-carat gold locket Steve’s mother had worn on her wedding day, and Angie had so proudly worn on hers.
She wasn’t going to think any more about all that now, though. Instead, she was going to try to make herself believe that all would come good, maybe even by this time tomorrow. God only knew how, unless she caved in and took out one of those lethal payday loans … The fact that she was actually considering it made her feel sick inside, but what choice did she have when Roland Shalik had already begun the eviction process?
An hour later, with Zac down at the beach flying kites with his friends, and Grace watching the Fairweather Players rehearsing at the community centre – there was no part for her this year, on account of being unable to pay her membership fees – Angie spent a moment imagining how wonderful it would be to waltz into the centre and slip Grace enough cash to rejoin the company. The thought of it felt so good that she was almost annoyed when her mobile jolted her back to reality with a text. It was Emma letting her know that there was an offer at the Seafront Café today, provided they got there before twelve. Two coffees for the price of one. Boys with their father this morning (he didn’t forget today) so how about it? I’ll drive.
Angie didn’t hesitate. She might have a ton of chores on her plate, but they’d still be waiting when she got back, so why not indulge in this little treat? Pick me up in fifteen, she messaged back.
Though Emma and her husband Ben had moved into one of Hari’s semis, just over the footbridge, around the same time as Angie and Steve had moved into 14 Willow Close, Ben had taken off just over five years ago. He’d found someone else, an older uglier version of Emma was how Steve had described the new woman, and he hadn’t been far wrong. Ben now had two other children with his second wife, and had been promoted to manager at a Tesco Express over in the old town, so he was reasonably reliable with the maintenance for his and Emma’s boys. Certainly the rent was always paid, and so far Roland Shalik hadn’t attempted to increase it.
Trying not to think about bacon, sausages and eggs – her usual breakfast at the Seafront when she was feeling flush – Angie fixated on a lovely creamy latte instead. Later she’d have a proper meal, as they always did on Sundays, when she and Emma took it in turns to cook a delicious roast for them all with a surprise pudding to follow. It was at her place this week, so she’d bought everything in Lidl yesterday, and had even added a tub of ice cream for a pound to go with the apple pie. The kids would like that, and so would she, although she and Emma would probably have preferred a bottle of Pinot Grigio to help it all down.
Wine was a luxury they really couldn’t afford these days.
Glancing at her mobile as it jingled with another text, she saw it was from Hamish at Hill Lodge with a photo attached showing a close-up of what looked like … She wasn’t sure what it was. Then she realized he must have tracked down some more original tiles to continue his restoration of the cracked Victorian flooring in the hallway of the Lodge.
She texted back right away: Genius. Going to end up on Grand Designs.
He sent her a happy smiley back with the words, Craig didn’t come home last night.
Since none of them knew where Craig spent the nights he didn’t return to the residence she replied, Let me know when he shows up.
He would show up, she felt sure of that because he always did, eventually, and if she rang him right now he’d probably answer his phone. She didn’t put it to the test because Emma had just tooted her car horn, and with the prospect of a latte at the Seafront Café pulling her like a magnet towards town, she pocketed her phone and all but ran out of the house.
‘You’re looking lovely,’ she told Emma as she got into the passenger seat. ‘Must be all that wonderful sex you’re not getting.’
‘I see it’s working wonders for you too,’ Emma quipped, checking the rear-view mirror as she pulled away from the kerb. She was wearing a purple wool coat they’d found at a new boutique in town before Christmas, very stylish, by a designer they’d never heard of, and a dusky pink scarf that Grace had knitted to go with it. In her black padded parka and equally black scarf Angie couldn’t help feeling drab next to those lovely colours, but that was OK, the brightness of her red hair kind of made up for it.
‘Who was that bloke rubbernecking the van?’ Emma asked, as they headed out of the cul-de-sac. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re selling it? You can’t. You’d never manage without it.’
The mere thought of letting Steve’s van go was enough to make Angie’s heart lurch with dread. Selling the piano had been bad enough, beyond terrible in fact, but there had been no practical justification for keeping it. The van was her only means of transport, and God knew how painful it had been having his business insignia removed from the sides and back doors.
‘No I’m not selling it, and I didn’t see anyone,’ Angie said, trying to hide her anxiety. It could have been a bailiff nosing around, carrying out a quick assessment for someone she owed money to. Emma didn’t know how bad things really were so she wouldn’t have guessed at that. ‘Are you sure it was my van he was looking at?’ she asked.
Emma shrugged. ‘Hard to say for certain. Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you.’ She glanced at Angie and said, ‘It’s his birthday today.’
Angie’s heart twisted as she nodded.
‘I know you haven’t heard anything, because you’d have told me. That wasn’t him, by the way, who I saw scoping the van.’
‘No, I guessed not.’
After a while Emma said, ‘Does it make you feel afraid, when you think he might be around?’
Angie swallowed the concern that
