Dana placed his porridge on the table before him, and he started to eat it slowly. He liked it with honey and sugar, and Dana always made it perfectly for him.

Dana was leaning against the fridge, drinking a cup of coffee. She looked at Michael and, raising her eyebrows, she asked carefully, ‘Any news?’

Michael shook his head sadly. ‘No. Nothing. Not a dicky-bird.’

Jake listened to the talk between them, and he knew that they were talking about his mummy. He had heard enough to work out that she was in some kind of trouble. But then his mummy was always having some kind of problem. It wasn’t anything unusual for her. Her whole life was one problem after another. His nana always seemed to think that was the case anyway. She always said to Dana, that her Jessie attracted trouble like other people contracted a rash. It was there before you knew it and it itched until it was scratched raw.

‘You get yourself off to school, Jake. Have a good day, son.’

Jake liked it when his granddad called him ‘son’. He finished his porridge quickly.

‘I’ve got to take my drawing in, Granddad. It’s a picture of me, you, Dana and Nana. We had to draw our family. It’s going on the wall for our Communion. I drew us all in the garden. Even Nana!’ He laughed, and Michael laughed with him, even though he was sad to think that the child knew, as young as he was, that his nana didn’t use the garden, and also sad to think he had left his mother out of the equation.

‘That sounds lovely. Nana would be pleased to know you’ve drawn a picture of her.’

Jake shrugged, a childish shrug that was as honest as it was natural. ‘I suppose so, Granddad. But she won’t see me, you know. Even though I’ve been a good boy.’

Michael was sorry to the heart for his grandson’s predicament. Josephine forgot that her lifestyle affected everyone around her, little Jake especially. Her living in a fucking bubble when her daughter was missing just proved to him how selfish she really was.

‘Your nana is not very well, Jake.’

Jake got off his chair slowly, and smiling at his Granddad, he said with false gaiety, ‘Dana told me already. I know that she’s not well. Nana’s never well.’

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

Chapter One Hundred
and Fifteen

Jessie could feel the eyes of her captor on her. He watched her sometimes while she slept, and she hated knowing that he did that. It was creepy. She was feeling so sore, her ankles were bleeding as the cuffs were rubbing away her skin every time she moved. It was agony.