waited.
Alisha answered the door almost immediately. She was a tall, stout woman in her late sixties with a smile bright enough to power the National Grid. Today she was dressed in a flowing red dress with yellow flowers splashed across the hem. ‘Hello, love,’ she said, beckoning her over the threshold. ‘Come in, come in. How are you? Lord, it’s a hot one today. I’ll make a brew, shall I? You’ll be needing a drink after that walk. The boys are out back.’
Maddie, following her through the house to the yard at the rear, found it hard to believe that she had ever disliked Alisha and Winston. Or perhaps not disliked them so much as
judged
them. After the murders, she had decided that they were to blame for how Bo had turned out. It had to be their fault. Who else’s could it have been? She felt ashamed of herself now. How stupid! How naïve! She had come to understand that it didn’t matter how hard you tried, there were no guarantees when it came to raising a child.
‘Maddie, Maddie!’ Zac called out, running over to her with his wide grin and infectious laugh. ‘Hiya. Grandpa’s teaching me how to bowl. Are you going to watch? Are you going to watch me?’
‘Sure I am, sweetheart.’
A makeshift set of wickets had been set up in the back yard. Winston was standing at the far end wearing his baggy trousers and an old white vest. He gave her a wave with the cricket bat and she waved back. ‘Hey, Winston. How are you doing?’
‘Pretty good, thanks. Just giving our boy here some tips. He’s coming along real good. I reckon he’ll be a pro one day.’
‘Good to hear it.’
Solomon, their elder son, was sitting on the back step. He glanced up at her and nodded. ‘You okay, babe?’ He shifted over to make room. ‘Here, park yourself. You look tired. Tough day?’
‘Oh, the usual.’ She turned back to the kitchen and spoke to Alisha. ‘You need a hand with anything?’
‘No, no, you sit down. I’ll be out in a minute.’
Maddie sat down on the step beside Solomon. ‘When people say you look tired, what they really mean is that you look like something the cat’s dragged in.’
Solomon gave her a sidelong glance. ‘You don’t look like nothin’ my cat ever dragged in.’
‘You don’t have a cat.’
He gave a shrug. ‘Hell, you’re right. I was just trying to make you feel better.’
Maddie raised her brows and smiled. Despite getting to know him, even to like him, she still found Solomon Vale faintly intimidating. It was his size as much as anything else. At over six foot five, he dwarfed most people. And then there were the muscles. His bulging biceps strained at the white cotton of his T-shirt.
‘Are you watching?’ asked Zac, as he impatiently passed the ball from one hand to the other.
‘We’re watching,’ she said. ‘I promise.’
Zac, with his short, curly black hair, chestnut-brown eyes and coffee-coloured skin, had far more of Bo’s physical genes in him than Greta’s. He was a sweet, nice-natured boy, but that didn’t stop Maddie from stressing over his future.
The two men in this small back yard were the primary male role models in his life. She wasn’t worried about Winston – he was a decent, principled, honest man – but Solomon was a different kettle of fish. She didn’t doubt his affection for Zac, but she was concerned about what he did for a living. He worked for the Streets, and the Streets were the biggest villains in Kellston. What if Zac grew up wanting to be just like his uncle?
Maddie gave a yawn and stretched out her arms. She wasn’t going to fret about that now. It was a beautiful evening and the scent of honeysuckle hung in the air. As she breathed it in, her thoughts drifted back to the morning and her strange altercation with Delia Shields.
‘Sol?’ she asked.
‘Yeah?’
‘Does the name Cato mean anything to you?’
He pondered on it for a moment, but then shook his head. ‘Nah, can’t say it rings any bells. Should
Alisha answered the door almost immediately. She was a tall, stout woman in her late sixties with a smile bright enough to power the National Grid. Today she was dressed in a flowing red dress with yellow flowers splashed across the hem. ‘Hello, love,’ she said, beckoning her over the threshold. ‘Come in, come in. How are you? Lord, it’s a hot one today. I’ll make a brew, shall I? You’ll be needing a drink after that walk. The boys are out back.’
Maddie, following her through the house to the yard at the rear, found it hard to believe that she had ever disliked Alisha and Winston. Or perhaps not disliked them so much as
judged
them. After the murders, she had decided that they were to blame for how Bo had turned out. It had to be their fault. Who else’s could it have been? She felt ashamed of herself now. How stupid! How naïve! She had come to understand that it didn’t matter how hard you tried, there were no guarantees when it came to raising a child.
‘Maddie, Maddie!’ Zac called out, running over to her with his wide grin and infectious laugh. ‘Hiya. Grandpa’s teaching me how to bowl. Are you going to watch? Are you going to watch me?’
‘Sure I am, sweetheart.’
A makeshift set of wickets had been set up in the back yard. Winston was standing at the far end wearing his baggy trousers and an old white vest. He gave her a wave with the cricket bat and she waved back. ‘Hey, Winston. How are you doing?’
‘Pretty good, thanks. Just giving our boy here some tips. He’s coming along real good. I reckon he’ll be a pro one day.’
‘Good to hear it.’
Solomon, their elder son, was sitting on the back step. He glanced up at her and nodded. ‘You okay, babe?’ He shifted over to make room. ‘Here, park yourself. You look tired. Tough day?’
‘Oh, the usual.’ She turned back to the kitchen and spoke to Alisha. ‘You need a hand with anything?’
‘No, no, you sit down. I’ll be out in a minute.’
Maddie sat down on the step beside Solomon. ‘When people say you look tired, what they really mean is that you look like something the cat’s dragged in.’
Solomon gave her a sidelong glance. ‘You don’t look like nothin’ my cat ever dragged in.’
‘You don’t have a cat.’
He gave a shrug. ‘Hell, you’re right. I was just trying to make you feel better.’
Maddie raised her brows and smiled. Despite getting to know him, even to like him, she still found Solomon Vale faintly intimidating. It was his size as much as anything else. At over six foot five, he dwarfed most people. And then there were the muscles. His bulging biceps strained at the white cotton of his T-shirt.
‘Are you watching?’ asked Zac, as he impatiently passed the ball from one hand to the other.
‘We’re watching,’ she said. ‘I promise.’
Zac, with his short, curly black hair, chestnut-brown eyes and coffee-coloured skin, had far more of Bo’s physical genes in him than Greta’s. He was a sweet, nice-natured boy, but that didn’t stop Maddie from stressing over his future.
The two men in this small back yard were the primary male role models in his life. She wasn’t worried about Winston – he was a decent, principled, honest man – but Solomon was a different kettle of fish. She didn’t doubt his affection for Zac, but she was concerned about what he did for a living. He worked for the Streets, and the Streets were the biggest villains in Kellston. What if Zac grew up wanting to be just like his uncle?
Maddie gave a yawn and stretched out her arms. She wasn’t going to fret about that now. It was a beautiful evening and the scent of honeysuckle hung in the air. As she breathed it in, her thoughts drifted back to the morning and her strange altercation with Delia Shields.
‘Sol?’ she asked.
‘Yeah?’
‘Does the name Cato mean anything to you?’
He pondered on it for a moment, but then shook his head. ‘Nah, can’t say it rings any bells. Should
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