‘MrsKelleway?’ the man with the clipboard asked.
‘Yes.’
‘We’re here from Walker and Sons. We’ve been appointed on behalf of the company who you have a car finance agreement with.’ She felt her limbs go rigid with fear. Knowing this was going to happen and it actually happening were two very different things. He held out an ID card with his photograph and some laminated stamp. It could have said anything. His tone was overly officious, and she reminded herself that he was only doing his job. ‘You have failed to keep up the payments for the black Mercedes-AMG GT 4-door Coupé. And in that regard, I am required today to either take payment in full for the outstanding debt plus any interest accrued on the debt, and our fee, or I will be repossessing the vehicle.’
Julie pictured her purse on the kitchen table devoid of cash yet stuffed full of credit cards and bank cards that all groaned with how much was owed on them; each one might very well see a similarrepresentative turn up with a clipboard at any moment. This was the way it would be until, piece by piece, their whole life would be dismantled, reclaimed, confiscated, carved up, recouped, and handed back. She hadn’t intended to laugh, but a small titter left her mouth.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she managed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to explain how she was laughing at the futility and desperation of it all.
‘That’s quite all right.’ The man was stern, cool and yet not unsympathetic.
Cassian began to snicker behind her and before she knew it, they were roaring their laughter, leaning on the wall of their debt-ridden home of which they didn’t own so much as a doorknob.
‘What the fucking hell’s going on?’
She and Cassian turned to see Domino, who stood at the top of the stairs in her dressing gown, an eye mask had been pulled up on to her forehead and her expression was one of fury at having her hangover disturbed.
‘Dom! There you are! This man’s come for the car. We’ll have to get a taxi to your nan’s, if either of you have any cash.’ she managed to say before the next bout of laughter robbed her breath of its rhythm and she folded over, trying to gain control, as her laughter turned very quickly to tears and her son, her beautiful, beautiful son held her upright.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DAISYHARROP
Daisy parked her bike behind the bench and took a seat. She had stopped crying, thankfully, quite sure she must have run out of tears. Her eyes were sore and her throat raw. The feeling in the base of her gut would have been hard to describe, but shame – shame laced with acute embarrassment – came close. Thankfully her parents had no clue as to the root of her sadness, assuming she was a little overwhelmed by the rather fraught morning where not only did her mum appear to be present and correct for the first time in a very long time, even making promises not only to write to the council about the tree and help her transform the neglected garden, but also the news that she and Jake were far from skint. It was a shocker! They owned flats. In fact, two of these flats opposite where she now sat. She wondered which ones. Looking over the wide sweep of river to the low-rise block where the glass windows looked shiny, the window boxes well-tended and the whole place, for want of a better word, rather fancy.
Any happiness, however, at this wonderful, life-changing news was a little tainted. It was hard to find the joy when she was nursing a freshly broken heart. And not just broken, not cracked, or in needof a slick of glue, but a heart that was shattered – splintered into a million million pieces that she was certain would be impossible to restore. It would be like trying to remake a shell from sand. Where to start? It wasn’t only that she had loved Cassian for the longest time, had dreamed explicitly of Cassian, vividly enough to make her blush in his presence, but also that she loved Jake and wanted to be happy for him. But how could she when he had inadvertently stolen her first crush and when her first crush had picked her brother over her? The news had even made the one-hundred-and-fifty-pound tip given to her by Cassian’s father feel a little grubby.
Worst of all was the pure, sour-tasting jealousy that sat in her mouth like poison. To be jealous of her own lovely brother was, she knew, a terrible thing. Her lovely brother who had found the confidence to speak out, and for the first time ever, had looked and sounded happy. Her face broke into a smile at this fact. Her envy was a dark thorn she wanted to pluck from her skin but she knew it might take time. It wasn’t only that he would get to hold Cassian, be with Cassian, stare into his beautiful face and hear reciprocal words of love, but also that if it worked out between them, Jake would be part of the Kelleway clan. And this had always been her secret dream.
Jake, who was already a regular visitor, would be able to set foot on the hallowed grounds of next door where he’d no doubt be welcomed with open arms and a cold drink in a tall, ice-filled glass. She did her best to tamp down the green-eyed monster that rose in her throat. How she would love to walk into that house, a place she had only visited briefly twice. Once to get a tennis ball that she had been throwing against the wall, counting each bounce until it hit a small rock and ricocheted over the fence and into the Kelleways’ back garden. Her mum had told her not to bother the neighbours and that they’d lob the ball back when they came across it, but she was not about to see an opportunity like this slip throughher fingers. Instead, she had rocketed around the fence like a terrier with the scent of a rat, and run into the driveway – just the crunch of the immaculate gravel underfoot was like a treat.
‘Hello there, Daisy!’ Bernie had called out from the side wall where, with his left hand, he snipped at a clambering rose with a small pair of scissors which, in her inexpert opinion, didn’t really look up to the job, and in his right hand he held his phone to his ear, breaking off the conversation when she got close. ‘What can I do for you today?’ he asked, smiling.
‘I came to get my ball back.’ She pointed over his shoulder. ‘It went into your back garden.’ She hoped and prayed that he might open the front door and lead her through the house and out the back, giving her a glimpse of the interior, which she had only seen lit by lamps from the outside, but it was enough to tell her it was very upmarket. He might even offer her a glass of squash! Much to her disappointment, he had held up his finger, as if to say,one sec,turned and opened the side gate, before returning mere seconds later with her ball.
And the second time was a week later when she figured if she lobbed the ball a bit further into the garden, it might take longer to retrieve or the Kelleways might be inside and be forced to open the front door and invite her in. She wanted so badly to peek inside ... But no, yet again he was out cutting that damn rose bush and again she left feeling just as frustrated as she had the first time. What was it about him and the need to prune morning, noon and night – surely nothing grew that fast?
Not that it mattered now, any of it, and she hated how on the day when Jake had made this huge announcement, her mum and dad had told her of the most extraordinary gift, here she was, sitting on the bench feeling torn in two over the boy who would never be hers. It seemed crazy that only last night she had ridden her bike to work and been filled with dread at the prospect of waitressingfor the family she held in such high regard, and yet here she was on this Saturday lunchtime, with a big fat wad of cash in her pocket, a flat of her own, her mum more awake than she’d been asleep, and Jake having found happiness – surely she could dig deep and find joy! Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back against the bench and steadied her breathing.
‘Come on, universe, give me a break!’ she whispered.
‘Hey, Daisy!’
She turned at the sound of her name to see Dylan Roper a little way down the path and lifted her hand in a wave. He cycled over and jumped off his bike, propping it next to hers, before taking a seat on the bench. His actions were confident, slick, as if they had arranged to meet and it wasn’t a coincidence, such was his ease.
‘What did you put for 4B?’ His opener.
‘Erm, 4B.’ She tried to remember what question 4B had asked on the chemistry sheet she had to do for homework.
‘Yeah.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘It wanted to know is NH or OH more polar?’
‘It’s OH.’ She didn’t have to think about it. ‘Duh!’
‘That’s what I thought.’ He sniffed.
They sat for a moment or two, quietly but not awkwardly. This was quite standard; very often he would sit next to her in the lunch hall or find her on the school field and plop down next to her and their chat was always easy, natural. It was nice. The river burbled over stone and reed, the sound a pleasant one, and one she wouldn’t mind lulling her to sleep from a bedroom in the flat across the way. She drew breath to tell Dylan but decided against it; she didn’t want to brag and was still digesting the news for herself.
‘Have you been crying?’ He was, if nothing else, direct.
