“Of course,” Dan replied, wishing that he hadn’t asked such a blatantly stupid question. He glanced across at Sooty on her sofa. “What about the children? How have they reacted to it all?”

“Max, I think, understands that Patrick is quite ill. He hasn’t really changed in any way towards his father, which is a good thing, but he has become very tactile and loving towards me. I think he’s just trying to lend his support in the best way that he can.”

“And Sooty?”

“I don’t think that she’s really taken it in. The innocence of youth, no doubt. She just calls her father Mr. Wibbly Wobbly.”

“It’s that bad, is it?”

Katie walked towards the door that led to the stairs. “You’ll soon see for yourself.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

Katie smiled back at him as she opened the door. “No thanks. We’ve got a good routine going.”

12

Jackie stood, suitcase in hand, on the pavement outside the house in Haleridge Road and watched until the taxi had reached the bottom of the avenue, turned the corner, and disappeared from sight. She turned her gaze to the house and let out a deep sigh. She couldn’t remember feeling this way since the days when she had had to go back to boarding school after a long, carefree holiday. The journey back from Paris had been wonderful, but the stone of foreboding had been sitting heavily in her stomach from the moment that she had got out of bed that morning. And now she was here. Back to reality.

She took in a nervous breath and opened the gate, and taking the house key from her pocket as she walked up the short path, she pushed it into the lock and opened the door. She was relieved that the house seemed quiet. She didn’t bother to call out, but dropped her suitcase in the hall and walked along the passage to the kitchen.

Battersea Gran was standing at the sink when she entered, scrubbing away at a pot with a Brillo pad, unaware of Jackie’s presence. The dogs, however, caught sight of her and Biggles let out a deep throaty bark before sidling over to greet her. The pot clattered into the sink and Battersea Gran turned quickly, a look of fright on her face. She clasped a pink rubber-gloved hand to her bosom. “Oh, Jackie, it’s you! What a terrible shock that dog gave me!”

Jackie shot her the thinnest of smiles. “Are you all right?”

Battersea Gran leaned a hand against the sink. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Just set the old ticker thumping a bit.”

“Why not have a seat for a moment?”

“No, no, that’s not necessary,” she replied, returning to her cleaning duties on the pot. “I’ll just get this all cleared away for you.”