sight of his face. ‘Just a sec. I’ll get the key.’
She fled back up the stairs, tugging the towel off her hair on the way. In the bedroom she dropped her dressing gown and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper. Then, running the brush through her damp hair and slicking a quick coat of mascara over her ginger eyelashes, she grabbed her keys and ran back down.
‘Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I’d already locked up for the night.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Mark stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘I was just passing and remembered you said you’d moved here, so I thought I’d call in and make sure you’re okay.’
‘Thank you, that’s so nice,’ Jenny murmured, touched that he cared. ‘Do you want to come in?’
‘If I’m not disturbing you?’
‘No, course not.’
Jenny went up the stairs ahead of him and switched on the lamp and the TV before drawing the curtains to conceal the urn containing her mother’s ashes.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she twittered nervously. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Whatever you’re having.’ Mark perched on the edge of one of the two black leather couches.
‘Sugar?’
‘Two, please.’
Left alone when she rushed off to the kitchen, Mark sat back and looked around. The room was surprisingly well furnished, with a fancy fireplace, a massive mirror, and a decent-sized plasma TV. There were only two pictures on the wall, one of a woman who Mark assumed to be Jenny’s mum, the other of Jenny herself – but as she looked now, he noticed; no trace of the ginger freak he’d known and taken the piss out of at school.
Amused by her attempt to rewrite history, Mark reached for the TV remote and flicked idly through the channels. When Jenny came back a few minutes later with two steaming cups in her hands, he smiled up at her. ‘This couch is well comfy. I’d have been asleep if you’d been much longer.’
‘I know, it’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Jenny agreed, passing his cup to him and taking a seat on the other couch. ‘The bereavement counsellor advised me to get rid of some of the old stuff so I wouldn’t be constantly reminded of my mum.’
‘Did it help?’
‘Oh, yeah, loads.’
Mark took a sip of his tea and gazed around again. Never mind getting rid of some of the old stuff, she’d obviously chucked the whole lot out and started from scratch. And that would have cost a fair bit, because these couches weren’t cheap, so either she had a well-paid job or she’d inherited a bundle. Either way, she was beginning to look more attractive by the second.
Annoyed when Steve’s phone went to voicemail, Amy slammed the phone down and paced the living-room floor. Mark still hadn’t come back, and while she wouldn’t usually be bothered, because he always went awol after a row, this time she was fuming. He knew that the kids hadn’t eaten, and he’d promised to borrow some money so she could get them something from the chippy. She wouldn’t even have cared if he’d posted it through the letter box and pissed off again, just so long as they got fed. But, as per usual, he was putting his own selfish needs before theirs. And now he’d switched his phone off and none of his friends claimed to have seen him, so there was nothing else she could do.
She turned around and abruptly stopped pacing when she saw her daughter standing in the doorway. ‘What’s the matter, love?’
‘I can’t get to sleep,’ said Cassie, a wobble in her voice, dark shadows circling her sad blue eyes. ‘Bobby’s crying. He says his tummy’s poorly.’
Amy felt like crying, too. But that wasn’t going to put food in their stomachs. So, making a decision, she said, ‘Go and get your coat on. And put Bobby’s on him for me.’
‘Are we going out?’ Cassie asked.
‘I hope so,’ Amy murmured, shooing her back out into the hall before reaching for the phone.
Sonia Clark was lying on the couch in her nightdress, watching reruns of Only
She fled back up the stairs, tugging the towel off her hair on the way. In the bedroom she dropped her dressing gown and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper. Then, running the brush through her damp hair and slicking a quick coat of mascara over her ginger eyelashes, she grabbed her keys and ran back down.
‘Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I’d already locked up for the night.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Mark stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘I was just passing and remembered you said you’d moved here, so I thought I’d call in and make sure you’re okay.’
‘Thank you, that’s so nice,’ Jenny murmured, touched that he cared. ‘Do you want to come in?’
‘If I’m not disturbing you?’
‘No, course not.’
Jenny went up the stairs ahead of him and switched on the lamp and the TV before drawing the curtains to conceal the urn containing her mother’s ashes.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she twittered nervously. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Whatever you’re having.’ Mark perched on the edge of one of the two black leather couches.
‘Sugar?’
‘Two, please.’
Left alone when she rushed off to the kitchen, Mark sat back and looked around. The room was surprisingly well furnished, with a fancy fireplace, a massive mirror, and a decent-sized plasma TV. There were only two pictures on the wall, one of a woman who Mark assumed to be Jenny’s mum, the other of Jenny herself – but as she looked now, he noticed; no trace of the ginger freak he’d known and taken the piss out of at school.
Amused by her attempt to rewrite history, Mark reached for the TV remote and flicked idly through the channels. When Jenny came back a few minutes later with two steaming cups in her hands, he smiled up at her. ‘This couch is well comfy. I’d have been asleep if you’d been much longer.’
‘I know, it’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Jenny agreed, passing his cup to him and taking a seat on the other couch. ‘The bereavement counsellor advised me to get rid of some of the old stuff so I wouldn’t be constantly reminded of my mum.’
‘Did it help?’
‘Oh, yeah, loads.’
Mark took a sip of his tea and gazed around again. Never mind getting rid of some of the old stuff, she’d obviously chucked the whole lot out and started from scratch. And that would have cost a fair bit, because these couches weren’t cheap, so either she had a well-paid job or she’d inherited a bundle. Either way, she was beginning to look more attractive by the second.
Annoyed when Steve’s phone went to voicemail, Amy slammed the phone down and paced the living-room floor. Mark still hadn’t come back, and while she wouldn’t usually be bothered, because he always went awol after a row, this time she was fuming. He knew that the kids hadn’t eaten, and he’d promised to borrow some money so she could get them something from the chippy. She wouldn’t even have cared if he’d posted it through the letter box and pissed off again, just so long as they got fed. But, as per usual, he was putting his own selfish needs before theirs. And now he’d switched his phone off and none of his friends claimed to have seen him, so there was nothing else she could do.
She turned around and abruptly stopped pacing when she saw her daughter standing in the doorway. ‘What’s the matter, love?’
‘I can’t get to sleep,’ said Cassie, a wobble in her voice, dark shadows circling her sad blue eyes. ‘Bobby’s crying. He says his tummy’s poorly.’
Amy felt like crying, too. But that wasn’t going to put food in their stomachs. So, making a decision, she said, ‘Go and get your coat on. And put Bobby’s on him for me.’
‘Are we going out?’ Cassie asked.
‘I hope so,’ Amy murmured, shooing her back out into the hall before reaching for the phone.
Sonia Clark was lying on the couch in her nightdress, watching reruns of Only
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