‘You weren’t here, they were in your bottom drawer and I’ve not seen you wear them for ages.’

‘Put him on the fire, Daddy,’ Emily growled, hands on hips.

Max bared his teeth and swung the cloth body up in the air, his past life landing on the hungry fire. They all stood back, quiet now, watching the Guy being swallowed up by flames.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Alison: November 2019

Alison calls out to Jamie for his dinner. For once he’s switched off the TV and gone to his room. He doesn’t answer. This is the third time she’s called him. She stomps up the stairs. He’s probably plugged in to some music or a game and can’t hear a bloody thing. She pushes his door open and is about to shout at him but he’s not there. He’s not in bed because it’s been made. She looks behind the door then opens the wardrobe. He’ll jump out at her in a second and scare her to death. She searches in their bedroom and the bathroom. Did she hear him creep downstairs or was that Poppy moving?

‘Come on, Jamie, no more games, your dinner is getting cold.’

The house is quiet except for the extractor in the bathroom and the wind howling down the road. The back door slams giving her a start. ‘Jamie?’ she calls over the banister. Still no answer. She marches down the stairs. This isn’t funny anymore.

Jamie is standing in the hallway in his coat. His face is red, tear tracks shining on his cheeks.

‘Where’ve you been? I didn’t say you could go out, did I?’ She grabs his arm and he pulls away from her. ‘Why did you go out without asking me?’

‘It’s all your fault Dad hasn’t come home,’ he sobs and runs past her up the stairs. She shakes her head, unsure of what just happened. She’ll leave him to calm down.

A removals van is parked on next door’s drive when Alison and Jamie arrive home the next day. Two men carry a large box marked ‘kitchen’ through the doorway. A Yorkshire terrier runs out between their legs and stands there barking at her and Jamie. Jamie whimpers and jumps behind her. A middle-aged woman wearing beige cotton trousers, dirtied by dust, steps out and shushes the dog away.

‘Sorry about that, he won’t bite,’ the woman says in a deep smoker’s voice. She steps forward, a large stride for a woman. ‘I’m Natty.’

‘I’m Ali and this is Jamie.’ She manoeuvres him forward, gently tipping his face up by the chin. ‘Jamie’s dad, Adam, is away on business.’ She cringes. She’ll kill him for embarrassing her like this.

‘He’s always away, and it’s all your fault.’ Jamie stamps his foot and pushes his fist into her side.