‘It’s just …’ she said. ‘That family … honestly. There is something seriously wrong with all of them. I didn’t tell you this, but the guy …’ she hesitated, and then the words came out all in a rush ‘… the one I had a fling with, Michael’s brother … Liam, he was obsessive too. I think they’re all fucking nuts. I don’t know where he is now, but I never want to see him again. The very thought makes my skin crawl.’

‘Right,’ I said.

There was a drawn-out, uncomfortable pause.

Anya leaned across the table and put her hand over mine, her eyes intense.

‘Nuts, the lot of them.’ She paused and then made a face. ‘I wish he hadn’t died like that, Ell, but I’ve got to tell you I’m relieved those horrible people are out of my life now.’

‘Well,’ I said. ‘Let’s hope they are.’

SPRING 2003

LIAM

He’s not really in the mood tonight. But he has certain obligations.

Liam takes one last glance at the mirror and lets out a sigh. He looks exhausted. Who could guess just how tiring it was being bored out of your skull all day?

He is on a training scheme in the Robert Sayle, working in the hi-fi and television department, and it feels like every day a small piece of him is dying. Everyone is in a state about the whole shop moving site next year and Liam has to pretend to be interested. As if he will still be doing this next year! He’s only there to keep the government off his back because he’s beyond the period in which he can claim benefits.

Liam pockets a small wodge of plastic baggies, his wallet and his silver iPod. Michael can’t seem to shut up about the latter. If he’s not going on about him destroying his hearing, he’s making snide little comments about how Liam can afford ‘tech like that’ when he’s on a training scheme that pays sixty quid a week.

He doesn’t understand anything, not really. But Liam knows his brother can be like a Jack Russell when it comes to sniffing out information. Dad has been giving him some looks lately too, but Liam is all about avoiding conflict right now. It won’t be long until he has enough cash to move out of this claustrophobic house, with its air fresheners, its doilies and the constant questions about what he’s doing, where he’s going, what he’s fucking thinking.

His family would never understand how low-level this is. He’s such a small cog in a very big wheel and he’s only going to do this for long enough to get a bit of cash behind him. Then it will be white sand and turquoise sea.

Thailand, he thinks. He’s always wanted to go there.