‘Well done, Ellie.’
‘And Naomi’s having a sleepover – can I go?’
‘Yes, ‘course you can.’
‘Cool.’ Eleanor produced her mobile phone and turned, heading upstairs accompanied by bleats and beeps as she called her friend.
In the kitchen-cum-living room, Pete was flying Charlotte around like a plane; she was shrieking with glee. ‘Approaching runway two. Clear for landing Charlie Lima.’
‘Don’t you get enough of that at work?’ Janine said.
‘Give me a go,’ Tom yelled. ‘It’s my turn.’
Janine held out her hands and took the baby, settled her on one hip. ‘Have you been flying? Clever girl.’
Pete bent to lift Tom. And raised him up.
Michael came in with a pile of dirty pots which he began to put in the dishwasher. Another year and a half and Michael would be off to university, leaving home maybe. Though more of them seemed to stay put than they had in Janine’s time; chose courses close to the family nest. Money perhaps. She and Pete should be able to help him out with fees and the like so if he wanted to go further afield then the opportunity would be there.
‘Parents’ evening.’ Michael took a bite of an apple and handed Janine a letter from his sixth form college. ‘Next week.’
‘Going all right?’ Sometimes she felt she barely saw him these days. Probably healthy, growing up, gaining his independence.
‘Yes, good.’
‘Great. Don’t know whether it’ll be me or your Dad but one of us will be there.’
Charlotte began to grizzle. ‘You hungry?’ Janine took a bottle from the fridge and put it in the warmer. Charlotte screeched.
‘Did you get them Mum?’ Tom held his arms out rigid as Pete placed him back on the floor. ‘Did you put them in jail?’
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Doing my best, though.’
*****
The streets were slick with rain, reflecting light from the lamp-posts and car headlights. Chris’s chest felt tight, hard. As though he had swallowed cement and it had gradually set, swelling and stiffening. His heart was a boulder, lodged like a weight in the centre of him.
He imagined the bastards’ faces, the surprise when they clocked who he was. His grief releasing him to do whatever he chose. A rock smashing into them, crushing the fingers that had steered the wheel, the feet that had gunned the accelerator, blowing them away… He braked sharply. No point being caught for speeding before he’d had his chance.
Chris had never been much of a fighter. At school, his big build and his easygoing nature had spared him the attention of the hard cases. The one time he had got mixed up in a playground brawl, he’d decked one of the ringleaders and received a broken nose for his pains.
