Fourteen

Dave answered the phone. Mary waited tensely at his side, and then relaxed when she heard him say: ‘She’s not here at the moment, Mrs. Parker. But I’ll pass on the message. I’m sorry about that. I’ll make sure she has a word with her little boy about it. Maybe if we can organise it so that they have the same thing in their lunch box it wouldn’t matter.’

Mary watched Dave closely, as he frowned and tried to control his irritation. His voice rose a touch, with a deliberately patient tone, conveying to the caller that he was running short on goodwill.

‘It was only a joke, Mrs. Parker. A joke. I’m sure we can sort it out. No problem. Bye now!’

He slammed down the phone. Mary ran a finger down the outside of his arm, relieved that it hadn’t been Ronnie calling. ‘What was all that about?’

Dave stared at the receiver, picturing the woman at the other end, who he imagined to be a snobby, dominating matriarch in twin-set and pearls. ‘Some people,’

he shouted. ‘Haven’t they got anything better to do?’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I just don’t believe I had a conversation with the stupid woman.’

Mary shook her head, and her mouth drew into a knowing smile. ‘Let me guess. Was that Louise Parker’s mother?’

‘You know it was. You heard me talking to her.’

‘What did she want?’

‘Apparently her little treasure and Simon have done a swap with their lunch box meals. Simon prefers Louise’s meals, and Louise prefers what you’re feeding him.’

Mary shrugged and pouted. ‘So big deal. Kids are kids. What can we do about that? If they want to eat each other’s lunches, well...’

Dave rubbed at his eyes with a finger and thumb, indicating that he was tired, and this was a situation that was disturbing the imminent work on which he needed to focus. ‘Louise has healthier options in her lunch box. Mummy forbids crisps and Kit-Kats and all the other bad things kids chuck into themselves. Like we never did that when we were kids. How many adults do you know who still eat the same junk food when they reach their thirties?’

Mary giggled. ‘Plenty. Look around you. Loads of fat people; and loads of fast food outlets.’

‘So what are we going to do about Mrs. Parker?’

Mary stood close to Dave and slid her arms around his waist. ‘I’m glad you said “we”. It makes me feel ... well, that we’re really a couple, and that you’re sharing the responsibility of bringing up my boys. I just want you to know I appreciate that.’

‘Thanks. But that still doesn’t sort out the problem of Mrs. Parker’s little treasure.’

A mischievous glint came into Mary’s eye. ‘Why don’t I try to find out from Simon what Louise has in her lunchbox, then give him the same thing? That way we know he’s going to eat his lunch, and poor Louise, who clearly doesn’t like her stuck-up healthy options, will have to starve.’

Dave laughed. ‘I think you’re missing the point. This has nothing to do with food. This is early girl boy relationship developing. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’

Mary’s mouth gaped open. ‘No! It can’t be.’

‘So how else d’you explain a kid giving up his crisps and sweets for Mrs. Snobby-git’s rabbit food?’

Mary spluttered, then jumped as the phone rang again. When she answered it, Dave saw her shoulders tense, and the look of pain that scratched at her face.

‘Ronnie,’ she said, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice. ‘How did you get this number?’

***

Maggie glanced at the kitchen clock. She frowned then looked questioningly at Craig.

‘Yeah, I know what you’re going to say,’ he mumbled, staring at the floor and playing for sympathy. ‘Why aren’t I at the chippie?’

‘It had occurred to me. There’s no one in charge.’

Craig shrugged. ‘There’s no other way round it.’

Maggie’s fist tightened around her coffee mug. ‘Round what?’

Craig muttered something which she didn’t catch. What was it?’ she shouted. ‘Come on, Craig. Talk to me.’

‘I’ve left Mandy in charge. She’s reliable. She can cash up. I might be gone some time.’

‘Got an attack of conscience, have you?’

‘Something like that.’

‘So you’re going to pop along to the local nick and turn yourself in, and to hell with all we’ve worked for.’

Craig stared at his sister, searching her expression for a clue to the way the conversation was heading.

‘You can’t bring the bloke back to life. You tell the police it was your idea, and with your record they’ll do you good and proper.’

‘Yeah, I’d already thought of that.’

Maggie gritted her teeth. ‘Well then?’

‘You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you? You were all for me shopping Tony Rice earlier on.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ve had time to think about it.’

‘And?’

‘I think you should forget it. Carry on as normal. It’s not as if you’ve done anything wrong. You said so yourself.’

Craig shuffled uncomfortably and picked at a loose thread on his denim jacket. ‘I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do nothing about Rice.’

Maggie snapped: ‘Oh, come on, sweetheart, get real. This wine bar can be up and running in less than three months. We’ve already got a buyer interested in your chippie. Think what’ll happen if you involve yourself in a murder enquiry.’

‘I can’t help thinking about old Alex though. Harmless old boy like that.’

‘Are you feeling sorry for him or for yourself?’

Craig gave an ironic laugh. ‘Both, I reckon.’

Maggie walked over to him and kissed his cheek. ‘I know you feel guilty. But it’s not your fault. Forget it. There’s a lot at stake.’

Craig chuckled. ‘I never realised before just how ambitious my big sister is.’

She smacked his shoulder playfully. ‘Start comparing me to Gary and I’ll beat you up.’

‘Yeah, I believe you.’ Craig frowned as he smelt the sweetness on her breath. ‘Maggs, have you been drinking?’

‘What, at half-eleven in the morning? Course not.’

She laughed lightly. But the way she behaved, Craig noticed, was contrived. The glib way she denied it; the way she avoided looking at him.

‘Well, I’d better get down to the chippie,’ he said. ‘I’ll see myself out. Thanks, Maggs.’

As soon as she heard the font door slam, Maggie opened one of the kitchen cupboards, took out a brandy bottle and poured herself a large measure.