Epilogue

The marquee was in the alley behind Alberto’s. Bigger than Caleb expected, with steepled ceilings and white canvas walls. Flowers and fairy lights, gas heaters warming the air. Only the umbrellas and puddles of water by the entrance hinted at the squalling rain outside. Nick was by the kitchen door, looking his way. Caleb ignored him and escorted Kat through the crowd towards an empty table, grateful he’d left his aids at home. A five-piece band was pounding out a dance beat on the raised wooden floor, amplifiers turned to full. People were already up and moving, most of them barefoot.

Kat stuck in foam earplugs as soon as she sat down: orange to match her headscarf. She was a flash of brightness in a flowing red skirt and slinky top. No more hiding the high mound of her stomach now, at twenty-three weeks.

‘I like the outfit,’ he told her.

‘Wait till you see me dance in it.’

‘You’re going to dance?’ Kat dancing was a gift – free and joyous, with the disco moves of a bad seventies movie.

‘You are, too. And don’t pretend your leg’s too sore, I know you’re back running every day.’ A gentle nudge: telling him she knew he’d slipped into obsessive behaviour. That he should make another appointment with Henry. That his forced smiles didn’t fool her.

She was waving at someone behind him. Alberto was winding his way towards them, back to his usual darting walk; no sign of the bruises that had disfigured his face a few weeks ago. ‘My dear,’ he told her, ‘you look delightful.’

A hug and a kiss for Kat, a hug for Caleb. Not quite a return to his usual rib-cracking enthusiasm, but getting there. Alberto had accepted Caleb’s apology graciously, seemed to believe the story he’d spun about Jimmy Puttnam targeting the business due to mistaken identity. Hopefully he’d never discover the truth.

‘I’m glad you came,’ Alberto told him. ‘We wouldn’t have made it without you.’

‘No more problems?’

‘No.’

There shouldn’t be: Lovelay had agreed to pay off Puttnam without too much persuasion. Maybe because he’d wanted to help save another family and its wayward son; maybe because Caleb had promised never to mention the judge’s name to the police.

Alberto gave Kat a little bow. ‘Dance with me?’

‘Of course.’ She stood, shooting Caleb a look. ‘You’re up next, Travolta.’

Caleb watched them go, then headed for Nick. Might as well get it over with; Nick had been trying to talk to him ever since he’d told the teenager that he’d fixed things. He caught the boy’s eye and went out into the chill night air, Nick following. Tarpaulins had been strung between the kitchen and marquee to protect the waiters ferrying trays. Water pooled on the rubber mats and formed slow drips overhead. Caleb shivered as a splash ran down his neck.

Nick’s head bobbed nervously. ‘I wanted to thank you. For, you know, what you did. We would’ve been stuffed without you.’

‘I didn’t do it for you, I did it for Alberto. But there’s no more money where that came from. You get into debt again, you’re on your own.’

‘It wasn’t like that. Wasn’t my fault.’

Just like Frankie, blaming everyone else for his problems. No point arguing; people didn’t change. Caleb turned towards the marquee, and Nick grabbed his arm. His mouth was trembling. ‘It’s true. It was Dad’s debt. That guy, Jimmy came to the house when Mum was out, said we had to pay now he’d skipped town. He knew all about us. Had it all written down so I’d understand.’ His eyes and nose were running; he scrubbed them with a sleeve. ‘He said he’d hurt Mum and Grandad. Showed me this video of him bashing, whipping people. Said he’d do it to them.’

It had the ragged feeling of truth. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell someone?’

‘I couldn’t tell Mum. I just couldn’t.’

‘Then Alberto. He would have helped.’

‘He would’ve sold the business. It would’ve killed him.’

Maybe, but there was more to Nick’s hesitation. The poor, scared, stupid kid.

‘You didn’t want Alberto to know about your father.’

‘Dad didn’t mean to get us in trouble.’

As if someone you loved wouldn’t hurt you, wouldn’t rip out your heart. Destroy you.

‘Your father’s weak, but you’re not. Don’t be dragged down by him.’

He left Nick shivering in the walkway and returned to the warmth of the marquee. People signing and dancing, ferrying plates of food and drink, the amplifiers thumping out a Latin rhythm. Alberto had disappeared, but Kat was in the middle of the dance floor, barefoot and flushed, skirt swirling in colourful spirals. He kicked off his shoes and went to her.

A bright smile as she saw him, eyes shining. She flung her arms around his neck, faltered slightly at the stiffness in his shoulders. He clasped her to him and spun her around. Arms wrapped tight, moving with her, the music pulsing through him. Trying not to think about what he’d lost and what he might lose. Just clinging to the moment. Trying to breathe.