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Back The Family Next Door Save as PDF
Chapters (117)
  1. Also by
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Epigraph
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
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  22. 17
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  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
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  42. 37
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  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
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  110. 105
  111. 106
  112. 107
  113. 108
  114. 109
  115. 110
  116. Teaser chapter
  117. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“Ten minutes.” I was still smiling then. “We’ll wait for the others to arrive.”

The bell above the door rang out. A boy a few years older was next. He was whistling when he walked in, alone and unhurried. He sat a little distance from her, jiggling a string bag of marbles he had plucked from the tub by the entrance. They clanked together. The sound made my teeth hurt, like drawing nails down a chalkboard.

On the street outside, the Saturday shoppers were busy about their business. I had half expected a queue, worried that the shop would be overrun and we would sell out of toys, but not this. Never this.

A breeze caught the banner—GRAND REOPENING AND PUPPET SHOW—strung across the front, and it gave an embarrassed shudder.

Another two children arrived at the same time. A girl and a boy. Then a lad on his own. He took one look inside the shop and walked out again. The trickle did not swell into a deluge.

The final two arrivals—stepbrothers, by the sound of things—had a petty argument at the door and both of them left.

So that that was it. Two boys and two girls. The culmination of weeks and weeks of preparation. All that expense.

The small knot of children did not know one another. Strangers flung together by fate. They sat on the floor, watching me, and my insides squirmed. Times were different then. Their parents had left them in good faith. Half an hour’s guilt-free shopping time. Time for a pint, a Campari and soda.

The photographer was even more uncomfortable than I was. “I’m sure it will pick up soon,” he said, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye. He fired off a couple of shots, wrote down names for the picture caption that would appear in next week’s newspaper and left, relieved to escape the darkening atmosphere. In his hurry, he left the scrap of paper with the names on it by the till.

I wanted to shut up the shop and crawl away, to lick my wounds in a quiet corner.

But the show must always go on.

And out the puppets came.

31

31

Monday 30th July 2018, 8:40 P.M.

25 The Avenue

The back of the house was lit up like a stage. An audience might have observed the silhouette of Garrick Lockwood as he pored over building plans on the dining room table, a glass of wine in hand, while in the sitting room, Olivia was bent over her laptop, calculating how much she would need to earn next month.

That separation spoke volumes about their marriage.