Chapter Twenty-Three

Finding Sally’s door on the latch, David knocked lightly and then, with some trepidation, went on in. Sally had said she was about to take a shower when he’d rung, so to make himself at home. Thinking that saying he’d rather not might be a little pointed, David had wasted some time doing a few household jobs and then came over. He just hoped she didn’t come downstairs dressed in the silk kimono affair.

He didn’t dare let his mind linger too long on the last time he’d been here, and the fact that Sally had evidently assumed they’d pick up where they’d left off. She’d been crushed when he’d pushed her away. Shame washed over David afresh as he recalled the look on her face, how much he must have hurt her. Small wonder, when he’d been so willing that first time, leaving Sally …

Pregnant. Unbelievable. David still couldn’t quite get his head around it, much less how. Contrary to Andrea’s barbed, but understandable comment, he was all too familiar with the reproductive system and the consequences of not being careful. They had been, but obviously not careful enough. The result: he’d successfully ruined another woman’s life. Way to go, David.

Despairing of himself, he headed for the lounge to wait. He’d stand by Sally, by his child. He was determined to do that, assuming she wanted him to. She really did deserve better, though, than someone who’d treated her so …

David’s thoughts were cut short as he neared the lounge door. ‘Oh, Mum, stop worrying, I’m fine,’ he heard Sally say into the phone. ‘It’s just stomach cramps.’

David shook his head then, feeling more than the slightest bit confused, and waited for Sally to end the call.

‘Oh, he’s perfect,’ Sally went on dreamily. ‘Yes, a doctor, quite a catch. Uh, oh, talking of whom, I’d better go. He’s due here any second.’

Saying her goodbyes, Sally plopped the phone down and then, humming happily to herself, turned around and with an ‘Oh my!’, stopped dead. ‘You almost gave me a heart attack!’

‘Sorry, I, er …’ David squinted at her, perplexed.

‘You really shouldn’t creep up on people, David, you know?’

‘No. I know. Sorry.’ He looked her over. She wasn’t wearing the seductive silk attire, he noted. She was wearing a loose fitting top that didn’t give anything away. His eyes strayed to her midriff. It would be too early for her to show yet anyway, he supposed, but … ‘Stomach cramps?’ He glanced at her quizzically.

‘Morning sickness.’ Sally lost the annoyed look and smiled stoically.

David furrowed his brow. ‘Oh.’

‘I know, it’s awful, isn’t it? Having to lie to your own mother, but she was so upset after I lost little Lucas.’ Sally glanced down, pressing the palm of her hand lightly to her tummy.

And now David was shocked. ‘You lost a child?’ he asked, concerned – for Sally and for himself. Was he really that much of an unfeeling bastard, he’d only considered what effect this pregnancy might have on his own future? Had he even thought about Sally’s feelings in all of this?

Sally nodded sadly. ‘Five months.’

‘Blimey.’ David closed his eyes, empathising more than she could know. ‘I’m sorry, Sally. That must have been hard.’

‘It was.’ Sally blinked back a tear, and David felt even worse. ‘Mum had to pick up the pieces; then again when Nick buggered off with his anorexic stick insect. She’d be round here in a flash if she thought I was pregnant again. I’d rather wait before I tell her, you know.’

David studied her for a second longer, then nodded, understanding. ‘I’ll arrange for you to have a scan.’ He offered her a reassuring smile. ‘Best keep a close eye on things.’

‘Oh. I, um …’ Sally’s eyes flickered nervously down again. ‘I’m seeing someone else at the surgery,’ she said quickly, looking back at him. ‘Doctor Paton.’

She was? David was now very confused. She was on his list. He’d checked.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d be very pleased at the news,’ Sally explained, before he could ask why. She walked over to perch herself on the sofa, where she plucked up a cushion and clutched it to her. ‘I thought it might make it less awkward for you.’

Which summed up how badly he had treated her. Running a hand over his neck, David sighed at his ineptitude in handling any kind of emotional situation. ‘I am pleased,’ he said, going over to her.

‘You are?’ Sally looked up at him hopefully.

‘Well, it wasn’t planned, obviously, but …’ David shrugged and smiled ‘… I’m getting used to the idea.’

Sally smiled tremulously back. ‘So you’ll support me, then?’

David sat down beside her. ‘Of course I will.’ He nodded, then, reluctant to take her hand, lest she think he might be about to, he patted her cushion instead. ‘That’s some bump. Eight months, I’d say. You’d better get on and get that scan organised.’

‘Idiot.’ Sally laughed, but her smile froze on her lips as a Homer-shaped missile shot from the hall, clearing the lounge floor in two seconds flat, to attempt to scramble onto David’s lap.

‘Eeeargh!’ Sally shot to her feet. ’Get down!’ she screeched. ‘Get … down!’ she said again, thwacking the dog with the cushion before David had a chance to get a hold of him.

‘What?’ Shooting across the room after him, David finally managed to pick the bewildered puppy up. ‘Do you have a problem?’ he asked, thinking she must be allergic to dogs, scared of them. Something.

‘Yes!’ Sally looked in boggle-eyed disbelief from him to the sofa. ‘It’s Italian leather art deco! A Jean Renoir with contrast leather piping! I don’t want animals jumping all over it with muddy paws.’

‘Ah, right.’ David plucked up one of Homer’s paws and peered at it, seeing no evidence of mud thereon. What about children jumping all over it though, he couldn’t help wondering, with sticky hands? He’d spent ten minutes trying to clean the evidence of Jake’s chocolate smoothie from one of his own armchairs before he’d given up, figuring in the great scheme of things, it didn’t really matter. If Sally was that particular, she was going to struggle with a toddler’s fingers on everything. David couldn’t help thinking about Chloe, and Andrea’s remark about how the mess her children would make of Sally’s elegant furnishings and décor would drive Sally to move out. Jake and Sally would most definitely not hit it off, that was for sure.

‘I’ll take him home,’ David said. Before he pees on the oriental rug, he thought, bemused, as Sally dove into her cupboard for a cloth and polish, obviously kept handy for just such emergencies.

‘See you later,’ he called, rolling his eyes as Sally set to buffing her Italian leather art deco sofa with vigour. ‘Better not pee on that, Homer,’ he whispered in the dog’s ear as he headed to the front door – to find Ryan and Dougal on the other side of it, a sheepish looking Jake peering out from behind Ryan.

‘Sorry, Dad. He slipped his lead,’ Jake said, not looking all that apologetic as he dangled the evidence, one dog-free collar. ‘Homer hasn’t upset the neighbours, has he?’

Not half as much as I have, David thought ruefully. ‘A bit,’ he said, wanting to reinforce that with dog ownership came responsibility. ‘Tighten the collar a notch, hey, Jake?’

‘Will do,’ Jake said, dragging a hand under his runny nose. David didn’t dare imagine what Sally’s reaction to that on her contrast piping might be. ‘Ryan’s got to go. We came to tell you.’

‘Oh, right. Okay, take Homer inside.’ David handed him over. ‘And make sure he has some water in his dish, Jake, yes?’

‘Yep,’ Jake said, heading for the house, puppy in arms.

‘Look, Jake! Left and right,’ David shouted, stopping him short of the road.

‘Oops,’ Jake said over his shoulder, dutifully obliged, then scooted happily on.

‘Cheers, Ryan.’ David smiled as Jake headed up the drive. ‘In case I forget to mention it, you’re all right.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Ryan shrugged modestly. ‘Pity the girls don’t think so.’

‘Oh.’ David sensed he might be confiding, but also sensed he probably didn’t want to go too far down that road. ‘No luck yet, then?’

‘Not with your kid in tow, no,’ Ryan said bluntly.

‘Ah, right.’ David nodded. Ryan had been a real godsend. David wasn’t sure he would have been able to cope without him taking Jake under his wing. Looked like he would have to learn how to now. ‘Look, Ryan, you’ve been brilliant. I’m really grateful for your help with Jake, but if you need some space …’

‘’S’okay,’ Ryan said, with another casual shrug. ‘I like him. If I get an offer from a fit female, I’ll let you know.’

‘Do that.’ David laughed, relieved. ‘I might have to ask you for a few parenting tips, though.’

Ryan nodded, only a hint of a smile on his face, lest he show too much emotion for an emotionally charged punk rocker, David guessed. ‘You’re doing all right,’ he commented.

‘I’m trying.’ David bent to give Dougal a pat and then stepped past Ryan towards his house, while he still had one. No doubt Homer would be doing a wall-of-death around the lounge by now, Jake whooping and cheering him on.

‘I meant on the girlfriend front,’ Ryan said drolly behind him.

Ouch! David winced. Well, he definitely deserved that, he supposed. ‘Not with the one I’d like to be, Ryan,’ he admitted, turning back.

Ryan regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Gotta go,’ he said, after a second. ‘Eva’s looking after Dougal while we’re at the hotel. I have to take him back and Mum’s waiting to go and get dinner.’

‘Give her my regards,’ David said as Ryan headed off, skinny jeans still hanging in there and laces trailing flatly behind him.

‘Will do. Oh, she has a new mobile, by the way,’ Ryan said, over his shoulder. ‘I’ll let you have the number. You’ll probably need it to discuss the flat Eva’s offered her so the landlord can stay incognito. Catch you lata.’

David couldn’t help but smile. Weren’t all adolescents supposed to be uncommunicative and moody? Ryan might not say a lot and his mood was generally ‘chillaxed’, in keeping with his image, but he was caring, and what little he did say communicated volumes.

‘Cheers,’ David called after him, smiling again as Ryan plucked Dougal up to carry him, ‘cos you’ve only got short legs, haven’t you, hey, little guy?’

Home not-so-sweet home, Andrea sighed, heading back from the café to the Travelodge. It might not be home, but at least the kids seemed reasonably happy now they dined on food to suit their palate: banana leaf thai curry for Sophie, Tower Burger for Ryan, which he delighted in graphically describing the meaty ingredients of to his sister. Dee had a traditional steak and ale pie, with a beer on the side, and Chloe and she had shared a platter with essential chips. All were replete. At this rate, though, they’d soon be sharing one platter between them in their room, singular, as opposed to the family room plus a room for Ryan she was currently splashing out for.

‘Sleepy, munchkin?’ Andrea asked Chloe, peering down at her bleary-eyed toddler as she carried her back to the family room.

‘Hodilay,’ Chloe mumbled around the thumb she was sucking on, and nestled further into her shoulder.

‘That’s right, sweetie, holiday.’ Andrea kissed the top of her baby’s head and silently thanked God for her. At least, in her innocence, Chloe thought it was all one big adventure, excited at tucking up in the pull-out bed with her sister, while Dee and she shared the double bed. Sophie had cheered up immensely this evening, though, having apparently already viewed the accommodation over the shop Eva had offered them.

Eva had mentioned the premises when Andrea had dropped Dougal off at her house earlier, Eva having volunteered to dog-sit while Andrea searched for somewhere else to stay that was more dog-friendly, bless her helpful heart. Not sure how practical an apartment would be; Andrea said she’d think about it, but then, when Sophie had arrived back at the hotel bursting with news of the ‘cool’ attic room she’d bagsied and Ryan apparently being ‘cool’ about it, too, Andrea had made up her mind to accept Eva’s offer. She wasn’t so sure about accepting her offer of rent-free for a few months until she got back on her feet, though.

She’d need to speak to Eva more about that, about the shop aspect of things, too. She couldn’t realistically pursue her Second Chance Designer idea now, with the future so uncertain. Ah, well, at least they were all here and healthy. The future could have been a lot bleaker, she reminded herself, reaching into her pocket for her key, and then waiting while her straggly entourage caught up.

‘It was probably horse meat,’ she heard Sophie say as she dawdled along the corridor, obviously on the offensive after Ryan tormented her with tales of the contents of his bun.

‘Was it?’ Dee stopped, for at least the third time in the space of twenty yards.

‘Nah, it was a hundred per cent dead cow, Gran,’ Ryan said, true to form.

‘Oh, good.’ Dee nodded satisfied, and trotted on.

‘Yeah, right,’ Sophie scoffed. ‘More like forty per cent with muscle and connective tissue thrown in, and soya and beef fat … and minced up eyeballs.’ She smirked as she waltzed past Ryan.

‘Mmmm, delish,’ Ryan responded, rubbing his tummy, but quietly curling a lip, Andrea noticed, amused.

Dee stopped, again. ‘I thought mine was a bit chewy,’ she pondered. ‘I hope I haven’t got bits of eyeball stuck in my teeth.’ With which, she promptly reached to extract said teeth as an alarmed looking occupant emerged from a room alongside.

‘Mum!’ Andrea skidded hastily back towards her. ‘Sorry,’ she said, beaming the young woman a slightly imbecilic smile. ‘She’s quite harmless,’ she assured her, urging Dee on, ‘as long as you don’t mind being driven batty along with her.’

‘I’m not batty,’ Dee objected, still attempting to remove her teeth.

‘Nah, Gran, just eccentric.’ Ryan smirked. ‘We love you, don’t we, Sophe?’

Mortified ‘Sophe’, however, Andrea noted, had disappeared into the room, possibly faster than she’d ever moved in her life.

‘That’s heart-warming, Ryan. Truly gratifying,’ Andrea said, her smile now a bit on the tight side. ‘Here you go.’ She passed big brother his little sister. ‘Tuck her in for me, please, and since you love your gran so much, you can make sure she’s tucked up, too.’

‘Yer what?’ Ryan gawked over Chloe. ‘But I was going to watch telly.’

Andrea pointed him onward. ‘In there,’ she instructed. ‘I need the use of your room.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Ryan arched a curious eyebrow.

‘To talk, Ryan,’ Andrea clarified, lest he think she was entertaining men to keep him in Tower Burgers.

‘Right.’ Ryan nodded. ‘To who?’

‘Jonathan. Who did you think?’

‘Oh, right. Probably best if we keep a low profile, then.’ Ryan sloped on into the family room, not looking overly thrilled.

Low profile? Andrea frowned after him. They hadn’t really reached the stage in their relationship where her children stayed out of the way, had they?

At least she hadn’t had to concern herself with titivating and pouring herself into ridiculous breath-defying dresses this time. Andrea tried not to dwell on their last arranged meeting and the disastrous events of that evening, but her mind kept drifting back to it anyway, images of her home and everything in it being voraciously devoured by fire.

Stop! She told herself firmly, clamping her eyes shut on hot, hungry flames licking at the bars of her stairs, smoke creeping along her landing to curl under the doors of bedrooms with her sleeping children therein.

Television, she instructed herself, flicking the remote to watch whatever rubbish might be on, and checking her watch for the tenth time. She couldn’t believe he was late. Hadn’t she said when she’d phoned him that they needed to talk about their future plans? Surely Jonathan must have realised she meant whether they actually had a future together worth planning for?

He’d suggested they meet at ‘their’ restaurant. Yes, that had worked out really well last time, hadn’t it? she’d pointed out, with more than a hint of sarcasm. She’d be sitting there now just the same, waiting, worrying, but with one slight difference, she supposed. This time she hadn’t got a house to bloody well burn down while she did.

Very annoyed now, Andrea stood up to flick the TV off and allow Ryan the use of his room back. Jonathan wasn’t going to come, was he? She should have known. He’d said he’d been taken to the hospital that dreadful night, when he hadn’t shown. She’d accepted his explanation. She’d wanted to believe it, but she didn’t, not deep down. And now, with their whole world torn apart, her children’s security ripped from underneath them, here was Jonathan obvious by his absence, again. Did he care, at all? He certainly hadn’t shown any evidence he did lately. Had he ever?

Pulling in a shuddery breath, Andrea headed for the door, her mind racing ahead to what she should do next, pursuing the insurance claim being number one on her list. There had to be a way to get details, through the mortgage provider possibly? Pondering, she almost parted company with her skin when the door knocked as she reached it. Jonathan?

Torn between relieved and furious, Andrea spied through the peephole, then pulled the door open, determined not to let his tardiness cloud the issues they had to discuss.

‘My, you’re keen, aren’t you?’ Jonathan smiled. ‘I bought you these,’ he said before Andrea could speak, producing a bunch of red roses from behind his back.

‘Oh.’ Taken aback, Andrea blinked at the roses and then him, bemused.

‘Well, don’t look so surprised,’ Jonathan said, looking crestfallen. ‘Men do buy flowers for the women they love, you know.’

‘How thoughtful,’ Andrea said, stepping back to allow him access. ‘Pity you didn’t think to bring something to put them in.’

‘Ahhh.’ Jonathan smiled awkwardly, obviously having forgotten the trifling fact that her house had burned down, meaning she hadn’t got a stick to her name, let alone a vase.

‘So why the sudden gesture?’ she asked, suspicious of his motives. Whatever his reasons for this rare display of affection, he should know it would need a hell of a lot more than a bunch of flowers to set things right. ‘I mean, you don’t buy me flowers, do you? Not often anyway?’

‘No, I don’t, do I?’ Jonathan turned to face her. He looked exhausted, haggard almost. Bags under his eyes she could pack her luggage in, if she had any.

‘I should have.’ He shrugged, looking as disconsolate as Andrea felt. ‘A beautiful woman deserves flowers. Sorry I was late, by the way,’ he said, removing his jacket and seating himself tiredly on the bed.

‘So, why were you?’

‘Hectic, as usual. Phone’s been going non-stop. Haven’t had a minute all day, I swear. Come, sit,’ he said, loosening his tie with one hand and patting the space next to him with the other.

‘And was one of those calls from the assessors, Jonathan?’ Andrea asked, preferring to stand while she got straight to the point. ‘It’s just, as they have actually been to the house …’ she paused pointedly ‘… I’d assumed they were processing the claim.’

A little furrow forming in the middle of his brow, Jonathan glanced down. ‘Yes.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, they are.’

‘So they’ll be releasing an emergency fund soon, then?’ she asked, gauging him carefully as he proceeded to pluck bits of fluff from his trousers.

‘I imagine so, yes.’ Jonathan looked back at her. ‘Come and sit down, Andy,’ he said, breaking eye contact, after a second. ‘You’re making me uneasy, standing over me like that. Can’t we just relax and talk?’

‘Why would you be uneasy?’ Andrea turned to place the flowers on the dressing table. She really didn’t feel like sitting, and relaxing was certainly something she wouldn’t be doing a lot of in the foreseeable future.

‘Because …’ Jonathan hesitated ‘… things haven’t exactly been good between us, have they, Andrea?’

‘No.’ Andrea braced herself and turned to face him. ‘Do you want them to be?’

Jonathan got to his feet with a sigh. ‘Of course I do. You know I do, it’s just …’

Andrea waited while he paced, wondering what he was going to cite as the reason. Her mum? Her insistence on trying to steal some time for herself with her Second Chance Designer ‘hare-brained’ idea, which was probably dead in the water anyway? Her children? Her?

‘… I don’t think I stand a chance with Doctor Adams and his bleeding heart moving in on you, do I?’ Jonathan stopped pacing and faced her.

Oh no. Andrea closed her eyes. ‘I moved in with him, Jonathan,’ she reminded him, drawing in a breath. Her cheeks were burning, her guilt was choking her, but what had happened between David and her wasn’t the reason their relationship was floundering. The problems between Jonathan and her had started when David was no more than a stranger. Before he’d even come to the village. Jonathan knew it as well as she did and she would not have him manipulate the conversation away from the real issues.

‘So I noticed,’ Jonathan almost sneered, his eyes on hers, burning with accusation.

Andrea looked him over, noting the tight set of his jaw and trying hard to work out where this was leading. What was it he was accusing her of? Did he really think, as she’d watched her house burn to the ground, not even knowing whether her family was safe, she’d been formulating some plan to move in with another man?

‘I didn’t have much choice, Jonathan, did I?’ she pointed out quietly.

‘Oh, come on, Andrea, you had plenty of choice.’ Jonathan dragged derisory eyes away from hers and resumed pacing. ‘You could have gone to any one of the neighbours. Eva, Sally, the pub. Here.’

‘My house had just burned down, Jonathan. The children were already in David’s house, being comforted by David, having been bloody well rescued by him! They were traumatised. Chloe was! Do you honestly think it would have been in their interest to drag them out past their burning house all over again?’

Jonathan’s step faltered. ‘No. Of course not. I—’

‘They hadn’t got a stitch to their name, and you were missing!’ Andrea pointed out angrily. ‘At the hospital, or so you said!’

Jonathan stopped, and turned, his expression livid. ‘Which means what exactly?’

He took a step towards her. Andrea stepped back, into the table. ‘You could have rung any one of the neighbours, Jonathan. Couldn’t you? The school? The pub?’

‘I don’t believe this,’ Jonathan growled, his breathing heavy, his face tight. ‘I really don’t. Thanks for your concern, Andrea. Thanks a lot!’

Eyeballing her furiously, Jonathan yanked off his tie. Andrea’s hand went to her throat.

‘I could have been dying! And your only concern is that I didn’t ring?’ Jonathan shook his head, incredulously. ‘I couldn’t get to a phone, Andrea, did that occur to you? Did it occur to you to ring around the hospitals?’

‘No, I …’ Andrea faltered, trying to think back. He hadn’t come to the restaurant. She’d spoken to him on the phone. She’d no reason to think—

‘No,’ Jonathan seethed, an inch from her face, ‘because you were too busy getting acquainted with our new neighbour. Don’t throw stones, Andrea, not when you’re on shaky ground.’

She watched him walk to the bed. Heard David’s voice in her head: ‘Something’s not right, Andrea.’ Then Dee: ‘He’s trying to do away with me.’

‘Where was Dougal,’ she asked, keeping her eyes on him as she moved away from the table, ‘when you found him?’

Jonathan looked sharply back at her. ‘In the park, I told you. Why?’

‘No reason,’ Andrea took a step towards the door. ‘It’s just he didn’t look very bedraggled for a dog who’d been wandering around lost. He wasn’t very hungry either. I just wondered, that’s all.’

‘Right, I see,’ Jonathan said, with a long exasperated sigh. ‘You’re right, obviously. He wasn’t in the park. I kidnapped him so I could claim the ransom. Of course I did.’ He locked eyes with hers, his now blazing with anger. ‘And while I was at it, I set fire to the house so I could claim the insurance. I mean, why not go the whole fucking hog, hey?’

Andrea nipped worriedly at her bottom lip. The dog flap, she tried to think rationally, though her mind was reeling. Dougal had escaped through the dog flap. Sensing danger, he’d beat a hasty retreat, that’s what Dougal would do. So, how did he get out of the garden? A garden they’d made absolutely sure was secure? Unless … Someone helped him out? During the fire? After? Before?

‘Bloody hell, what is this, Andrea?’ Jonathan shouted, startling her thoughts from her blackened kitchen, where it appeared the fire had started. ‘Where do you think he was, if he—’

‘In your office!’ Andrea blurted. ‘I saw the bed. I saw the dish. He was in your office, Jonathan! Why won’t you tell me the truth? When did you find him?’

Jonathan didn’t say anything, just looked at her, his expression thunderous. ‘You’ve been in my office?’ he said quietly, after a moment.

‘I have a key. Your spare. You gave it to me, just in case …’ His fury now palpable, Andrea tailed off.

He moved towards her. Andrea took another step to the door.

‘Spying on me?’ Jonathan took two swift strides, and was on her. ‘That’s rich, Andrea,’ he said, catching hold of her arm. His face was close to hers, one hand pressed against the door, right next to her.

‘I wasn’t spying. I—’

‘Really fucking rich. You’re shacked up with some bloke you hardly know, shagging him for all I know, and you’re spying on me?’

‘Jonathan! You’re scaring me!’ Frantically, Andrea searched his eyes, which had changed, from tumultuous to … murderous? Nowhere to go, Andrea was terrified.

She held her breath. Jonathan inhaled deeply, breathed out raggedly, then, ‘Fuck!’ slammed his hand against the door, bare millimetres from her head.

‘Fuck,’ he said again, dragging his hands over his face. ‘I don’t believe this. I …’ He blinked hard, then ground the heels of his hands against his eyes and finally looked at the ceiling. ‘What happened to us, Andrea?’ he asked, looking back at her, looking wretched. ‘Why are you doing this?’

Andrea couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. She stared at him, bewildered. The door handle rattled beside her. ‘Mum?’ Ryan’s voice came from outside.

‘I’m coming. I’m fine.’ Andrea turned and grabbed for the handle, attempting to open the door. At which Jonathan muscled in beside her and leant his full weight against it.

‘Don’t, Andrea,’ he said, his tone now scared, but most definitely holding a warning. ‘We need to talk. We—’

‘Get out of my way!’ Her heart palpitating manically inside her, Andrea grappled with the handle, tugged hard at it. ‘Jonathan, I need to go.’

‘For God’s sake, Andrea, stop!’ Jonathan clamped a hand over hers, wove an arm around her, attempting to force her bodily away from the door.

Desperately trying to prise his grip from her waist, Andrea struggled, kicking out behind her. They were nothing but useless flails meeting with fresh air. He was bigger than her, much stronger than her. She was powerless to prevent him whirling her around and leaning his back heavily against the door.

‘Mum!’ Ryan, urgently now.

‘Ryan! Call the—’ Andrea stopped, gagged by the hand that Jonathan now had clutched to her face.

‘Just stop,’ he hissed in her ear. ‘Calm down, for— Fuck!’

Wincing as Andrea’s fingernails gouged his flesh, he loosened his hold.

And Andrea grabbed her chance. Summoning her strength, she wriggled out of his grasp, lurching forwards, away from him, only to stumble. The light was white, blinding, as her cheekbone cracked against the sharp wooden edge of the dressing table.

‘Andrea?’ Jonathan’s tone was now one of horror. ‘Oh God, Andrea …’ He moved towards her as she blinked against the searing pain and attempted to right herself.

Crouching, he caught hold of her forearms. ‘You’re hurt,’ he said, his voice hoarse as he eased her to her feet, his touch gentle as he reached out to brush the tender bruise already forming under her eye.

‘Mum?’ Sophie said, shocked and tearful behind him.

‘What the fuck’s happening?’ Ryan demanded, his keycard in his hand, his expression more furious than Andrea had ever seen him.

‘Don’t, Ryan!’ Andrea stopped him as he stormed towards Jonathan. Ryan would stand no chance against a man a head taller than he was. ‘Leave it. Please, Ryan,’ she asked, seeing her boy was now trembling with ill-suppressed rage. ‘He’s going.’

She turned coldly towards Jonathan, who closed his eyes, looking haggard, a hundred years older. His anger visibly dissipating, he looked back at her. ‘I’m so sorry, Andrea,’ he said, his voice catching. ‘I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I swear.’

Andrea fixed him with a contemptuous gaze. ‘I’ve heard enough, Jonathan,’ she assured him, working hard to control her own temper. ‘And my children have seen enough. You have thirty seconds to leave.’ With which Andrea drew in a breath and turned away.

‘Right.’ Jonathan sighed heavily behind her. ‘Can I at least use the bathroom before I go?’

What? Andrea’s step faltered. She was contemplating calling the police and he wanted to avail himself of the facilities?

‘The bathroom,’ Jonathan repeated as she shot him an incredulous look over her shoulder. ‘I, er, need a moment.’

‘Thirty seconds,’ Andrea reiterated, ushering Ryan and Sophie ahead of her out of the room.

‘Bastard,’ Ryan threw after him as Jonathan headed towards the bathroom, presumably to compose himself. ‘You should report him.’

‘Leave it, Ryan,’ Andrea asked him, pulling the door half to and then reaching gently to prevent Ryan pressing the digits on his mobile he obviously wanted to. ‘For now,’ she said, locking eyes with his. ‘He’s Chloe’s father. I’m not making excuses, I promise. I need time to think. Meanwhile, I want him gone.’

Pulling in a deep breath, Ryan held her gaze, tangible anger in his own, and then reluctantly, he nodded.

Grateful, Andrea squeezed his arm and turned her attention to Sophie. ‘All right, sweetie?’

Sniffling, Sophie ran an arm under her nose. ‘Uh-huh,’ she said. ‘You?’

‘I’ve been better,’ Andrea answered honestly.

‘Ryan’s right. He is a bastard,’ Sophie agreed with her brother, unusually.

Andrea might have smiled, but for the circumstances. ‘Where’s Gran?’

‘Soaking her feet,’ Sophie assured her. ‘Just as well she is. We’d have been hard pushed to stop her trying to give that wanker a taste of his own.’

‘Exactly.’ Andrea reached to fluff up Sophie’s drooping spikes. ‘I don’t want her to hear, kids. Understand? Or Chloe.’ She glanced meaningfully at them both in turn and then thanked God for them both as they nodded simultaneously back.

Relieved, Andrea turned back to the door to see Jonathan warily emerging. ‘So … How are you two?’ he asked awkwardly, glancing between Sophie and Ryan.

Neither of the children answered.

‘How’s Chloe?’ Jonathan tried.

Silence.

‘I thought I’d just pop in and say hello to her.’ Jonathan took a step towards the door to the family room.

‘Uh, uh.’ Ryan shook his head and sidestepped, bodily blocking the doorway.

Sophie folded her arms and closed ranks with her brother. ‘She’s sleeping,’ she informed him.

‘Right.’ Jonathan nodded, glancing apprehensively at Andrea. ‘How’s Dee?’ he asked, forcing a smile.

‘Still alive,’ obviously having finished attending her feet, Dee piped up from inside, ‘despite your best efforts.’

Jonathan shook his head, a wry smile on his face. ‘She’s still not confused then, I see.’

‘Not half as confused as you seem to think I am, young man.’

‘I’d like you to go now,’ Andrea said as Jonathan loitered, looking uncertain. ‘I don’t want Chloe woken. She’s been through enough. We all have.’

Jonathan shrugged. ‘Okay,’ he said, after a long intake of breath. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

‘Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t come running,’ Ryan muttered, looking Jonathan over disdainfully.

‘Sense of humour still intact, I see, Ryan.’ Jonathan smiled shortly, and turned to Andrea. ‘We’ll need to chat further …’

Chat? Andrea’s hand went to her face, which was badly bruised and which she guessed bore a cut where the corner of the table had broken the flesh. It was all she could do to stop her eyes boggling in her head.

‘About what happens next,’ Jonathan went on, apparently oblivious to the considerable stress he’d just caused.

‘What happens next is you leave,’ Ryan suggested. ‘The exit’s that way.’

‘Okay, fine, I can see where I’m not wanted. I’ll catch up with you later.’ Jonathan gave Andrea a nod and headed down the corridor. ‘Oh, just so you know, though.’ He turned back. ‘Chloe is my daughter, Andrea. Whatever happens, I will want to see her.’

‘Prat,’ Ryan imparted his thoughts on the subject as Jonathan walked on.