“I don’t think I’d cry if he was killed in there.”
“Wouldn’t blame you.”
“Cole?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Will you come downstairs with me?”
“You know I will,” he said, standing up and pulling me with him.
We went to the living room, and I sat on the carpet between Cole and a glassy-eyed Jasper. There was a space on the sofa near Ali and Miles, but that was for Mum.
Cole said she was there.
“Where did Mum go?” I asked. “Kitchen?”
Jasper’s eyes flicked to the floor. “Just on the phone.”
“On the phone with who?”
He shrugged. His vacant, tipsy eyes wouldn’t look at me.
“Jasper?”
“Linda, okay? She’s on the phone with Linda.”
“Why?”
“Don’t freak. It’s probably nothing,” Jasper said, waving his hand and slurring his words. “You did it, Oaks. Sent that wanker down.”
I looked around the room, and the temperature dropped. “If it’s nothing, why are you all acting weird?”
“We didn’t want you to worry,” Cole said.
“You knew when you came upstairs?”
He sighed. “It’s fine.”
“How? We don’t know what’s happening!”
Why wouldn’t Linda call me?
Mum walked into the room, clutching the phone to her chest.
“What?” I asked.
“You don’t have to go through it again,” she said, almost stumbling over her words. “Frank’s changed his plea to guilty. He’s admitted to everything.”
Shock slammed into my chest. “What? You’re sure? It’s over?”
“It’s over. He’ll be sentenced. No trial.”
“But that’s why he’s doing it,” I said, sitting up on my knees as it slotted into place. “He’s learning from Dad’s mistakes, trying to get a more lenient sentence by owning up.”
“Shh, baby, it’s okay. This is good. You don’t have to give evidence.” Cole looked more relieved than me about that. He wouldn’t have to hear the details again.
“Good,” Jasper said. His voice was as hard as his posture but still slurred. “He can fucking rot, too.”
