‘What’s happened?’
‘Bullying, I think. He’s made me promise not to speak to his teacher, but I’m going to speak to the headteacher about it tomorrow.’
‘You poor thing. As if you don’t have enough to be dealing with.’
‘Are you still OK to pick me and Bertie up tomorrow to visit Dad? Rob needs the car.’
‘Of course. I’ll be at yours by eleven.’
‘Thanks. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
‘All right ladies, that’s us done.’
I wiped my brow with my gloved hand and stretched out my aching back. I’d cleaned fifteen toilets that morning, which had to be a record. There’d been some famous pop star or other performing at the football ground the night before and the toilets were as disgusting as I’d expected them to be. Mind you, they were never as bad as after a match. The things I’d had to fish out from toilet bowls didn’t bear thinking about.
I packed my cleaning equipment away in its box and washed my hands in the staff changing area. Once my uniform was hanging in my locker, I joined the queue of women waiting for Carla to hand out our wages.
Among the long line of workers, I was the only Brit prepared to do this kind of work. All the others were migrant workers, the very workers lambasted in British papers by the kind of guys who couldn’t flush their own crap, never mind clean up someone else’s.
I reached the front of the queue and Carla handed me my two twenty-pound notes with her usual smile, jotting down my hours in her small notebook. Being paid in cash was a godsend. I stored my earnings in my sock drawer, counting them out each night and calculating how long I’d need to save before being able to take on Marion.
The coffee van outside the stadium was doing a roaring trade, but despite being dog-tired, I headed to the car, saving myself for cheaper coffee at home. The city roads were quiet, most commuters were not even awake yet, and I made it home in record time.
‘Coffee?’ asked Rob, as I walked into the kitchen.
‘Silly question.’ We’d not spent that much time together over the past few weeks, but the time we had spent had been amicable enough. I resented how private he was with his business and finances, but appreciated the effort he’d been making with Bertie.
‘Is Bertie awake yet?’
‘No, still sleeping, I think.’
‘OK. I’m going to have a shower, then I’ll wake him up.’
I spent longer than usual under the hot water. My shift had been particularly gruelling, and despite the rubber gloves and protective uniform, I felt covered in grime that needed to be cleaned away.
At seven I went to wake Bertie but found his bed empty. At least Rob had managed to drag him from his bed, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the usual morning grump. Once dressed, I went downstairs to find Rob eating alone at the breakfast bar.
‘You’ve not let Bertie watch TV, have you?’
‘I thought he was upstairs getting dressed.’
‘No, he’s down here with you.’
‘Liv, I’ve not seen him yet this morning.’
I ran into the living room, but there was no sign of Bertie. He wasn’t in his bedroom, or in the bathroom brushing his teeth as I’d hoped.
‘Everything all right?’ called Rob.
I ran back down the stairs. ‘When did you last see Bertie?’
‘The same time as you. When we took him up to bed.’
‘You’ve not seen him at all this morning?’
