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Chapters (24)
  1. Cover
  2. By the same author
  3. Dedication
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. About the Author

The neighbours murmured goodnight and tactfully dispersed. The exchange they had just witnessed didn’t quite fit with the party atmosphere. Mel and Jasper and Paul and Lola and I were left in the garden.

I took Lola’s hand. ‘Jack will be fine.’

‘I know that.’

We were subdued by the taste of Audrey’s loneliness and her need to hold on to Jack, and by Jack’s solidarity.

‘I don’t think we can do any more tonight,’ Mel murmured.

Jasper wanted us all to have dinner, but I shook my head. It didn’t seem right to go off and sit in a restaurant now. In the end Mel and Jasper said goodnight too. They hugged me in turn.

‘It isn’t easy, is it?’ Jasper said. I guessed that he was talking about Clare as much as Jack.

After they had gone Lola said, ‘Hi, Mr Rainbird.’

He smiled at her. ‘Hi, Lola. You can call me Paul, now you’re out in the real world.’

Her smile in return was sad. ‘Actually, I’m not sure I’m that crazy about the real world.’

‘If anyone’s up to dealing with it, Lola, that person is you.’

She brightened up. ‘Really? Well. Thanks. Look, Mum, I’ve got to go. I promised I’d meet Kate.’ As ever, Lola had her own priorities.

‘Go on, then. It was good that you came over tonight. What did you put in your letter?’

‘Oh. Just that he’s my favourite brother and I miss him being around. That sort of stuff, you know?’

‘I know,’ I said.

Lola hoisted her bag, ready to depart. She looked straight at Paul. ‘I’m glad you’re taking care of my mum.’

‘I will do my best,’ he said gravely.

When we were on our own again Paul said, ‘Do you want to go now?’

I shook my head. ‘I’ll just sit here for a little bit longer.’

He understood immediately that I wanted to do it on my own. He kissed me on the forehead and said he would see me tomorrow.

I sat down on one of the folding chairs and thought about Jack.

It was nearly the end of August and the evenings were shortening. At half past eight the light had faded out of the sky, but there was still no respite from the breathless heat. A police car sped down Turnmill Street, silent but with the blue light splashing a warning in the twilight. Another followed a minute later.