A loud rap on the door made us both jump.
‘Sorry! We’re closed!’ Anastasia called.
The person outside banged again and I groaned. ‘It’s Ingrid.’ Reluctantly I unlocked the door.
‘We need to talk.’ The words were hushed but there was no mistaking the anger behind them.
‘I’m just finishing off. Can we?—’
‘You have ten minutes. I’ll see you in The Purple Lobster.’
And before I could respond, she stormed offdown the street.
‘Ooh, good luck with that,’ Anastasia said, her expression sympathetic. ‘Do you think she’s found out about Aaron coming here?’
‘I’m guessing so.’
I’d explained our tricky family dynamic to Anastasia, feeling I should give her an explanation for the surly twelve-year-old who kept appearing.
Anastasia and I left the gallery together a little later.
‘If I’m not here tomorrow, tell the police I was last seen heading to The Purple Lobster for a bollocking from my ex-wife.’
‘I hope she’s gentle with you.’
‘Me too, but it’s doubtful. Hopefully see you tomorrow.’
Being a Friday, it was busy in The Purple Lobster and I couldn’t see Ingrid at first. A flicker of hope that she’d changed her mind was blown out when I spotted her in the quieter snug, half a glass of white wine on the table in front of her.
‘You’re late,’ she snapped.
‘You sprung this on me and I needed to finish up first.’
She glared at me, unblinking. ‘You’d better get yourself a drink.’
My eyes flicked to the bottle of wine in an ice bucket and she tutted.
‘Don’t you dare judge me, Jed Ferguson.’
‘I wasn’t judging. Why do you always have to be so defensive?’
‘Because I…’ Her voice softened. ‘Just get yourself a drink. We need to talk.’
I went to the bar and returned with a pint of low-alcohol lager and sat down opposite her, bracing myself for a verbal attack. It didn’t come.
‘You wanted to talk?’ I prompted when the silence became too uncomfortable.
She rubbed her eyes and ran her hands down her face,making me look at her properly. She looked tired and her eyes were red as though she’d been crying. My stomach lurched.
‘Has something happened to Billy?’
‘No, Dad’s fine, responding well to treatment.’
‘That’s good.’
Silence.
‘Why won’t Erin and Lucy speak to me?’
