* * *
Later, at the flat, the episode in the shrubbery began to take on a dream-like quality, as Den threw himself into being the life and soul of the party, telling corny jokes, teasing Josh about the girl he’d left behind in Newcastle, and flirting shamelessly with Sophie as he tried to tempt her to eat a chip.It was bewildering, and if it wasn’t for the tell-tale stubble rash on her cheek and a persistent throbbing whenever she sat down, Mab would have started to think she’d imagined the whole thing.Den was refusing to even look at her, and Mab’s embarrassment grew by the minute.What had she been thinking of?Fancying the pants off Leo, and then getting hot and heavy with his brother, whilst carrying a third man’s child, having entered into an agreement purely for money?She felt as if she was having some sort of epiphany, but two and a half months too late.Had Pete’s desertion unhinged her so much that she’d lost all human decency?How had she ended up in this mess?
At last it was time for bed, and Leo and Sophie took themselves off to their four-poster haven with much smugness and entwining of arms as they left the others to sleep where they could find space.Mab had appropriated the second-largest bedroom and glanced through the open doorway just in time to see the look on Den’s face as Leo patted Sophie’s pert little bottom.So Den didn’t like the two of them being together?Was it because he thought Sophie was totally wrong for his brother?If so, Mab couldn’t help agreeing with Den.Sophie would never stand the hustle and bustle of starting a new business.How were they going to keep her amused?They’d have to have a special grown-up crèche just for her, with a constant supply of glossy magazines, a rainbow selection of nail polishes, a fridge full of Diet Coke and vegetarian sushi, and back-to-back episodes ofLove Islandon the TV.
* * *
Sunday dawned much too early for most of the inhabitants of the bookshop.The floor was covered with slumbering bodies as Mab picked her way from her bedroom to the bathroom.She had slept badly again, with more feverish visions of muscle-bound, naked men haunting her sleep, and a feeling of impending doom making her jittery and unsettled.She thought back to the previous evening, and the riotous dinner.As the evening wore on with no word from next door, Mab and Den had, by unspoken agreement, kept quiet about their meeting with Edward.As they hauled home a huge bag of fish and chips, they had avoiding looking at each other, and Mab thought Den was probably wishing he had never offered to help with his new scheme.What could have got into him?Mab knew she could look good when she was making an effort, but no one had ever been overcome with passion to the extent of dragging her into the undergrowth before, especially not when she was covered in cobwebs and dirt.She flinched at the memory, and tried not to remember Den’s hands.The thought of his gentle but forceful fingers made her head for the shower again; she felt much better after a quick icy blast of water and was glad that Leo had made blitzing the bathroom a priority.It was spotlessly clean, and the radiator was turned up full blast; she towelled herself dry, trying to think pure thoughts.It was time to confess to Leo and to face whatever he would decide to do when he knew the situation.
Dressed in dungarees and a yellow t-shirt, with her hair loosely scooped up on top of her head, Mab felt more positive.She put on a pair of the disposable gloves she’d bought in bulk after reading somewhere that pregnant women should avoid touching cat litter at all costs, and quickly emptied Maurice’s litter tray into a bin bag.Her stomach lurched at the stench that rose from it before she’d refilled it with clean litter from a sack in the corner of her room.Washing the disgusting tray could wait until there were fewer people around to turn up their noses.Maurice was still hiding under a chest of drawers, very unimpressed with his new home, a small black shadow in the very corner of the room.He had ventured out only for food and essential visits to his tray, for which Mab was grateful.
Creeping back to the kitchen, Mab’s heart sank as she saw the full extent of the mess.Screwed up chip wrappers, empty brown ale bottles and dirty mugs covered the work surfaces, and the sink was full of greasy water and pots too.She sighed and made her way back to the bathroom to wash her hands after disposing of the gloves and the contents of the litter tray.Hopefully Maurice would soon feel like exploring the back garden.The smell in her room last night had been horrendous.She was just debating whether to wake up the sleepers or get to work in the kitchen when her mobile once began to vibrate in her pocket and Jess’s frantic voice put all thoughts of washing up right out of her head.
10
GEORGE
This was turning out to be an even bigger adventure than George had expected.As he climbed out of his cabin bed, and slithered down the ladder, he could hear the birds beginning to sing.It was his favourite time of the day.Never a good sleeper, he would often lie awake for hours waiting for the first cheep to sound, especially when it got light very early.They were his mates, the chaffinches, blackbirds and sparrows that lived in the huge conker tree by his window, the one that his granny wanted to have chopped down.George had been gutted when he heard about her plans and had made such a fuss that the Dickhead had persuaded Grumpy Granny to drop the idea.It was easy to manage your family when you knew how.He had initials for all of them to make writing the notes for his book easier.His dad was MM (Magic Man, for the weird tricks he could do) and his much older second granny was called SF (Smelly Farts, on account of her terrible wind problem).They all thought that George couldn’t write properly – it was just that at school there was nothing worth writing about.DH and GG were always trying to help him with his homework.What a waste of time.Best to just not do it at all, he’d decided.
George dressed quickly and quietly.He was used to this routine.He often went out secretly, long before breakfast and usually on his bike.If he remembered to miss the creaky stair and to lock the door behind him, there was no problem.He’d had his own keys to the house and the shed for over a year now; it had been a laugh stealing DH’s keys and having some more cut when she thought he was at after-school club.There had been a bit of bother that time when he’d been spotted climbing back over the fence into the school garden where the others were playing, and he’d had to make a story up about seeing a poor little kitten that looked lost and needing to run after it to rescue it.That had been a close one, but the helpers were so worried about DH finding out that they’d kept quiet.Their boss had been away and second-in-command lady – SIC – and shewassick too – had been dealing with a nosebleed, so George had got away with it.Phew.He had stopped going to the club now.They didn’t like the games he played with the little ones.SIC said it was too risky having George around and that his ideas for amusing the others were dangerous.George didn’t care, but the little ones had been sad.They had liked his games, especially the one where he’d helped them to pile up the outdoor toys in a huge heap so that they could climb up onto the roof of the outbuildings.
As he rounded the corner pushing his bike, George stopped to check his backpack one last time.Keys; bar of chocolate; bottle of Vimto; spare underwear and socks in case of falling in the water, which sometimes happened to George, and a small towel.He also made certain he’d got Charlie-the-mangy-stuffed-camel who always went on adventures with him, and a map.His skateboard was under his arm, and his noise-cancelling headphones were firmly in place.George pulled his baseball cap down firmly and slung his pack over his shoulder.It was going to be hard to cycle with his skateboard balanced in front of him but he would need it later for cover.Luckily the streets were deserted as he climbed onto his bike and headed for the station, but fifteen minutes later he was quite relieved to see a small group of people clustered around the entrance near the ticket desk.They would make a useful screen.Now for one of the trickiest bits of the plan – the bike.
George hated abandoning it, but there was no choice, so he chained it to one of the trees in the little spinney behind the station car park.It was far enough from the road to be overlooked in a search, but it should be safe enough there.Sliding between the people queuing at the desk, George made his way to the ticket machine and put his mum’s debit card into it, punching in the numbers as quickly as possible.Out popped the tickets – one adult and one child – and he strolled onto the platform just as the train pulled in.The first part of the plan had worked.Cool!Ordering the tickets online had been a bit difficult because his mum policed the computer carefully.It was so unfair, lots of the kids in his class had their own laptops in their rooms, but he’d managed it at almost the last moment while she was busy arguing with GG.
The train was a fast one, and George settled into his reserved seat with a sigh.The long weeks of preparation had paid off.George had watched a wide selection of kids on their own for some time now, and had decided that to avoid being noticed, all you had to do was to look busy.With his skateboard under his arm, he looked just like any other kid off to meet his mates; it was a good job he was tall for his age.George had practised the walk carefully.Not too cocky or he’d be picked out as a troublemaker, and fast enough to look as if he meant business.
The ticket inspector appeared suddenly by his side and George’s stomach flipped.Maybe he should have had breakfast after all.
‘You OK, son?Where’s your ma?’
George looked up at the man, with his best innocent look.‘In the toilet – again,’ George rolled his eyes, ‘she was out with her mates last night.Don’t think she feels too well today.She left these though, just in case she missed you.’
He fished the two tickets out of his pocket and handed them over, trying to look bored and slightly fed up with his parent.The ticket collector raised his eyebrows as he checked the details and glanced towards the toilet sign, which luckily was displaying the red ‘engaged’ light.
‘Oh, well, that’s mums for you, I guess!Tell her to take more water with it next time…’ He laughed, and moved on down the train.George wondered what he meant.Take more water where?With what?His mum always carried a bottle of water with her wherever she went, so there was no need to pass that message on, even if she’d really been throwing up in there.He relaxed into his seat, and started playing with his MP3 player, but carefully, because he’d noticed the sign saying that this was the quiet coach, and he definitely didn’t want to draw attention to himself.George always noticed signs.His teacher thought he was a slow reader.When would the woman realise that he just didn’t choose to read the stupid, babyish books she gave him?Why would you?
When the drinks trolley appeared, George bought a bottle of juice for himself and a coffee for DH, explaining again to the nice lady that his mum was still unwell, just in case the ticket collector had passed on a message for George to be watched.He should have been a spy, or a detective, George congratulated himself.The lady was very sympathetic and advised tea instead of coffee.
‘Gentler on the tum, love,’ she said.‘And maybe she’d like a bacon roll?’
‘Yeah, good idea, I’ll have one for me too,’ said George, his stomach rumbling at this suggestion.
Buying the rolls was a brilliant move.George felt ready for anything as the train chugged into Brighton station.All he had to do now was to get through the ticket barrier unnoticed and mingle with the crowds.The next job was to find Dad.MM would definitely be pleased to see his only son.He was always saying George must come for a visit.Well, now he was here.
11
The radio was playing schmaltzy music to itself as Mab leaned on the kitchen worktop, trying to gather her thoughts.She recognised an old song from one of her dad’s favourite films, but couldn’t quite place the title.‘There may be trouble ahead… but while there’s moonlight and music and love and romance, let’s face the music and dance.’The words brought a lump to her throat his morning.When would they all feel like dancing again?
Harry wandered into the kitchen, kissed Mab in an absentminded sort of way and went to switch on the kettle.‘Hey, what’s up, pet?You look terrible.’
‘It’s George.He’s gone missing.’
‘Really?That’s bad, what can I do to help?Shall we go round to Nina’s?She’ll need us to go and look for the little guy, maybe?’
‘I’m waiting for Jess to call back.She was just about to check if he’s had any breakfast, for some reason.’
Mab’s phone buzzed insistently, dancing a little jig on the worktop as it played the opening bars of ‘Relight My Fire’, Jess’s personal ring tone, and she snatched it up.
