by Susan Lewis
In the end Angie noticed Zac standing in the doorway and reached out a hand to him.
‘What’s so funny?’ he asked, going to her.
Drying her cheeks and still panting, Angie looked to Emma, hoping she might have a sensible answer.
‘We’re just being silly,’ Emma told him, dabbing her face. ‘Have you finished your game?’
Zac nodded and climbed into his mother’s lap. ‘Can we make a snowman?’ he asked.
Remembering that a few flurries had been forecast for tonight, Angie turned to the window and saw a handful of flakes wafting lazily about in the darkness. ‘I don’t think it’ll pitch,’ she told him, and started as the back door suddenly opened wide.
To everyone’s surprise Grace came in, bringing an icy gust with her.
Far more relieved to see her than she felt was wise to show, Angie said, ‘I thought you were staying at Lois’s.’
Grace shrugged and avoided looking at her mother as she tugged off her beanie, scarf and gloves. Her eyes were red and swollen, her mouth as pale as her cheeks.
Emma said, ‘Grace, sweetie, lovely as it is to see you, you shouldn’t be out after dark on your own.’
‘I can always go if I’m not wanted,’ Grace told her snappishly.
‘That’s not what I’m saying. You never know who might be hanging about …’
‘I brought you something,’ Grace said to her mother, and digging into her pocket she pulled out a brightly coloured card.
‘Oh cool,’ Zac cried, reaching for it.
‘It’s for Mum,’ Grace cried, snatching it back.
Seeing it was a scratch card with a star prize of fifty thousand pounds Angie’s throat tightened with emotion.
‘I reckon it’s a winner,’ Grace told Zac.
‘I bet it is,’ he agreed confidently. ‘And if it is, will that mean we can stay in our house, Mum?’
Knowing she had to avoid the question, Angie said, ‘Go and get Harry and Jack and we’ll take it in turns to scratch a square.’
Zac whizzed into the sitting room shouting for the others, and moments later three small, excited faces were ready to begin.
Angie looked at Grace. ‘Would you like to go first?’ she offered.
Grace shook her head.
‘I will! I will!’ the boys cried.
It took only minutes to reveal the numbers, but in that time Angie felt the ludicrous, impossible dream of an eleventh-hour miracle rooting into her heart, as it was in everyone else’s. Of course they’d tried scratch cards before, and EuroMillions, and Thunderball, she’d even signed them up for a month of Postcode Lottery, but this time, tonight, it felt different. It was just one card, bought by Grace, and given as a final desperate hope that they could stay in their home. Angie looked at her daughter and couldn’t stop herself from thinking that maybe, just maybe, serendipity had put the card into her hand for just that purpose.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The court enforcers were due at three o’clock.
Apparently they weren’t obliged to give a time, but that was what it said on the notice so Angie was working on the assumption that they’d keep to it.
Persuading the children to go to school hadn’t been easy. Emma had come for them at eight thirty and had fought her own tears as she’d prised them away from their mother before loading them into her car. Grace’s sweet and crazily hopeful effort to rescue them from the nightmare hadn’t worked. The scratch card had been torn to pieces after the last reveal had turned their hopes to dust, and they’d vowed never to buy one again.
They would, of course, when they had an odd pound or two to spare; it was the only way Angie could see of them ever getting back on their feet.
The three of them had slept in her bed last night, their last at 14 Willow Close, snug and warm in the one room that was heated. The others were cold and dark, full of memories, some that would come with them, others that would stay, and crammed with boxes ready to be stacked in the family room before being taken over to Emma’s to store in the attic.
After changing into their pyjamas and quickly cleaning their teeth in an icy bathroom, Grace had decided she wanted to French-plait her mother’s hair. It had seemed strange to do something so normal given the situation they were in, but Angie had sat down in front of the dressing table with its near-empty and faintly dusty surface while Grace went gently about her task. She found it soothing to feel her daughter’s fingers entwining her hair while Zac sat up in bed reading to them from The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me. He was a good reader, top of his class, and listening to him, Angie couldn’t have felt more torn up inside. He wasn’t to know that he’d chosen Liam’s favourite book from when he was the same age. She remembered how Steve used to crack up laughing every time he read it. They’d always said that the only reason Liam kept asking for it was because of how much it made his father laugh.
Eventually they turned out the light and snuggled up under the duvet with Angie on her back so both children’s heads could rest on her shoulders. As she listened to them breathing and felt their love and trust in her binding them even more tightly together she thought of the text she’d had from Roland Shalik before leaving Emma’s.
Don’t forget, Angie, you have options.
She’d texted back: If I take a loan from you can we stay in the house?
His reply wasn’t long in coming. I’m afraid that is not possible.
Of course she’d known what he was really offering, and feeling as desperate as she did now she wondered if working for him was the answer. She felt her skin crawl as she tried imagining herself with men she didn’t know, the kinds of things she’d have to do, and where they might happen. Would she be expected to work in a club, or just wait in a room somewhere for them to come to her? Would she be subjected to violence; would she ever be allowed to say no? Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she imagined Steve watching her from afar, or Martin Stone finding out … Why did he even matter? She had no idea, he’d just come into her mind, and the horror if it all sickened and overwhelmed her. It would be for the children, she reminded herself, she’d just have to blot out everything and everyone else and think of them, but even if she could do it, and she couldn’t, she knew it wasn’t really her Shalik was after.
It was Grace, and she would kill him with her bare hands if he ever went anywhere near her daughter.
Now, this morning, she forced herself to focus on what needed to be done over the next few hours and walked through to the sitting room. The furniture seemed oddly mournful, stripped as it was of the magazines, discarded clothes and cushions that had always given it life. There were only half a dozen boxes in here, most containing files and books that she was going to leave in the corner until everything could be moved to their new home.
Their new home – as if it were a place that actually existed.
After today they would have no home.
She returned to the kitchen, made herself some tea and forgot about it while she was upstairs checking she had everything she needed from her wardrobe, the airing cupboard, and bathroom. Emma had already packed up Steve’s clothes and gone through Liam’s room to sort out what should or shouldn’t be kept. Grateful for that, she closed her bedroom door and stood on the landing where they used to keep the wooden rocking horse that Steve had carved for Liam before he’d even come into the world. All three children had taken their turns on it. They’d loved it as if it were a real pet and now it was gone, sold on eBay for seventy pounds.
At midday she called Roland Shalik’s number, but rang off before the connection was made. She couldn’t bear to speak to him, so instead she sent an email asking if this was really what he wanted, to make an innocent family homeless?
A reply came back half an hour later confirming that options were still on the table, and the decisions were hers.
She messaged back. Is there another kind of job you can offer?
What are you suggesting?
Something clerical? Cleaning? Drivin
g?
There are no vacancies for those positions.
Accepting she’d never get anywhere with him, she rang the housing department and was put on hold for twenty minutes before being told to call back tomorrow.
‘But we’re being evicted today,’ she cried angrily. ‘I have children …’
‘You have relatives in the area,’ she was reminded.
She rang off abruptly and would have thrown her phone at the wall in frustration if she weren’t so dependent on it. Thankfully BtG covered her contract, so there was no danger at this point of the service being cut off.
She knew that sometime in the future, when she looked back on this day it would seem that it had flown by, but that wasn’t how it felt now. Each minute was more like an hour, as though deliberately and cruelly drawing out the agony.
At two o’clock she found herself in the back garden, looking around at the winter-torn beds and empty chill-out shed. The barbecue, sandpit, climbing frame, and tree swing were still there, and somewhere close by she could hear Steve playing ‘Those Lazy Hazy Crazy Days of Summer’… She could see them dancing to the music, surrounded by friends, laughing, drinking too much wine … There they were puffing air into inflatables to take to the beach, wrestling tents out of bags to set up for the kids’ camp on the green, planting new flowers each spring to mark the anniversary of being in the house. She felt Steve’s arm going round her as he slid a hand over her pregnant belly (Zac), and watched six-year-old Grace reach up to do the same. Her beautiful children who’d lived here for ever …
Her elder boy who’d arrived in Willow Close when he was six, so excited and joyful and innocent of what life had in store. Where was he now?
She turned her face to the sky, with memories still swirling around her mind as unstoppably as the clouds passing overhead. She didn’t hear her mobile jingle with a text, but she felt the vibration and checked it. As she read the words her heart stopped beating.
Saw your daughter’s post online. Thought you’d like to know Liam is safe.
She read it again and again, certain she’d imagined it.
There was no name, no number. It was signed A friend.
Who could have sent it? And why now?
Her mind spun crazily to Steve, as if it had been him understanding that she’d needed something today. She thought of guardian angels, the police, even Martin Stone. Who could have known how desperately she wanted to hear this? What had made them choose today of all days to send it?
She felt herself falling with nowhere to land. She tried to take a breath and found that she couldn’t. She wasn’t aware of her knees buckling, or of sinking on to the wet grass. She didn’t even hear herself sobbing; she only knew it was happening when arms went around her and tried to lift her. For a bewildering moment she thought it was Steve and couldn’t work out if she’d died, or if he’d come back to her.
Then her vision cleared and she realized it was Melvin from down the street.
‘Did you send me a text?’ she asked him.
He looked baffled. ‘Come on, let’s get you inside,’ he said.
Her body was still shaking with sobs as she allowed him to lead her into the kitchen; her legs were wet, her hands and feet were like ice. Dully she wondered what time it was and if he was one of the bailiffs here to evict her.
Thought you’d like to know Liam is safe.
‘I’ll make you some tea,’ Melvin said, sitting her down at the table. ‘Do you take sugar?’
She shook her head and pushed a hand through her dishevelled plait, catching strands between her fingers and leaving them to coil and stick to her face.
‘I saw the front door wide open,’ he explained, ‘and your van half parked on the kerb … I thought I ought to check everything was OK.’
He must have noticed the near-empty cupboards by now and boxes all over the place, but he didn’t remark on it. He simply put a mug of tea in front of her and turned to the fridge.
‘There isn’t any milk,’ she told him. ‘We used the last at breakfast this morning.’
Accepting this with no more than a nod he came to sit across from her, no tea for him – there was only one mug left unpacked – and bunched his hands on the table. As he stared down at them she wanted to ask again if he’d texted her, but she knew it couldn’t have been him. He probably didn’t even know Liam existed.
‘It’s none of my business …’ he said.
‘We’re being evicted, today,’ she told him, and heard her voice rising in a shredded echo from the misery inside her. She wondered if he already knew; maybe everyone did. If that were true then no one had mentioned it, or offered to help in some way, if only to store or carry something, or simply to say how sorry they were. They couldn’t know, her neighbours wouldn’t be that cruel. ‘The bailiffs are due here at three,’ she said.
His eyes were green and gentle, but barely disguised his shock as he said, ‘I’m sorry. This is obviously a very distressing time for you. I didn’t mean to intrude …’
She expected him to get up and leave, but he didn’t. He continued sitting where he was, as though sensing she didn’t want to be alone, and because she had no idea what else to say she sipped her tea and wondered where Emma was. She’d promised to be here by half two so Angie wouldn’t have to go through the final steps alone. If she hadn’t been moving one of the Hope House residents into an independent apartment this morning, she’d have come straight back after dropping the children at school.
‘Do you have anywhere to go?’ Melvin asked quietly.
‘My sister’s,’ she said. She swallowed more tea and framed the words to thank him and tell him she was fine now so he could go. Instead she began talking to him about the day Steve had first brought her here, and about Liam helping his dad to build things in the garden, and paint the walls in his bedroom. She told him about Steve and Liam’s excursions to the beach searching for crabs and mussels and limpets, and how they’d bring home horrid things like sea worms and snails to make her shiver and shriek.
Liam used to laugh delightedly when she shrieked, so she’d do it again and again until they were all wrapped up in so much laughter they might have dissolved in it.
By the time Emma ran in, full of apologies for being late and coming to an abrupt halt on seeing a stranger at the table, Angie had described what had happened to Steve, and that she had no idea where Liam was now. She hadn’t got round to the text yet, but she was holding it close to her heart, thinking of it as a star fallen from the heavens to give her the strength to get through this dreadful day.
‘Emma, this is Melvin who lives two doors down,’ she said, introducing them. ‘He came in to make sure I was all right.’
Though Emma appeared baffled and faintly suspicious as she watched Melvin get to his feet holding out a hand to shake, Angie didn’t miss the quick flicker of interest. Emma could never hide anything from her.
‘I was passing,’ he explained, keeping his eyes on Emma’s, ‘and I saw the door open. I was afraid there might be burglars.’ He turned to Angie. ‘I should go …’
‘No, please don’t,’ Emma said quickly, surprising both him and Angie. To Angie she said, ‘Have you told him what’s happening today?’
Angie nodded.
‘Then I think we should ask him to stay in case … In case someone turns ugly.’
Angie’s eyes widened in protest.
‘I don’t mind,’ Melvin assured them.
Emma glanced at him gratefully, and apparently came to another quick decision. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘if you’re sure about it I think I should take Angie to my place before anyone comes. Do you mind handing over the keys and making sure no one takes anything?’
Before Melvin could respond, Angie cried, ‘No, Emma, that’s too much to ask.’
Melvin said, ‘I don’t have to be at my next appointment until five …’
‘If I leave now,’ Angie said, ‘it’ll feel as though I’m abandoning the place, that I don’t care abo
ut it …’
‘That’s nonsense,’ Emma exclaimed in despair. Then, softening her tone, ‘Look, I know how much this house means to you … Angie, stop! Where are you going?’
Angie paused at the bottom of the stairs, unsure how to answer, only knowing that she didn’t want to argue, that she wanted to wake up now and find this was all a terrible dream.
Melvin said, ‘Have you made arrangements to move your furniture?’
‘We’re leaving it here for now,’ Emma replied. ‘Storage is so expensive, and we can’t sell it because Angie will need it, or at least some of it, when she gets a new place. Apparently the landlord can’t take anything in lieu of rent. If he does he can be fined.’
Melvin nodded. ‘So have you made an inventory of everything?’
Angie’s stomach dipped as she realized they hadn’t, and should have done.
Equally appalled by the oversight, Emma said, ‘We need to do it right now. We don’t have long.’
‘We can take a room each,’ Melvin said, pulling out his phone to start taking photos. ‘If you do the kitchen, I’ll sort out the sitting room and maybe you, Angie, could make a start upstairs?’
Understanding that she had to act fast Angie took out her own phone and ran up to her bedroom, grateful for the urgency since it allowed little time to think of anything else. Even the backdrop of the walls Steve had specially decorated for the children didn’t throw her off track; she simply forced herself to focus on making sure that all moveable items were included.
Was Liam really safe, or was it a cruel joke?
It was just after three-fifteen when the bailiffs finally arrived, pulling up outside in a black 4×4 and looking, to Angie’s mind, exactly what they were. Both were heavily built, and both wore dark padded jackets, jeans and boots; one carried a clipboard, the other had a tablet that he used to take a shot of the front of the house.