‘Tom’s got a cleaner. One of the club girls comes over and keeps the place tidy.’

‘Well you certainly wouldn’t do it, would you? Think you’re too good for that.’ June shook her head. ‘You are just like your mother. I’ve stuck the washing in the machine, that won’t do itself, will it? And I’ve put a stew in the oven.’

Angel thought that Tom was quite capable of doing his own washing. And he could cook a meal, too. Then she stopped that train of thought. Maybe she was being unfair. She’d never had a family around her. Dora had never been that attentive, she was always fixated on the horrible Donny, or busy chucking booze down her throat. Angel knew nothing of real family life. She had nothing to gauge this new situation by.

But what had that crack been about her mother?

‘I’m not like Mum,’ said Angel. ‘And incidentally? Tom’s not a child, he’s a grown man. And I’m not his servant.’

June was smiling sourly, as if this brisk put-down from her niece pleased her.

‘Full of it, aintcha?’ she said, folding her arms over her scrawny chest. ‘Bet you think you’re on to a good thing here now your bloke’s off being done for swindling the taxman.’

Angel’s eyes widened.

‘Oh yeah – I heard all about Lenny Axelford. It’s been in all the bloody papers, what he’s been getting up to. Dora always liked crooks too. And I bet you don’t pay Tom a penny for living under his roof. You’re just taking the piss because he’s so soft.’

‘Actually,’ said Angel, anger rising, ‘I pay Tom rent. Every week. Without fail.’

‘Go on.’ June let out a huff of disbelief.

‘It’s true.’

Angel heard Tom’s key in the door and then he came in, closing it behind him. He looked between the two women and sensed the atmosphere in a minute.

‘Hi, Aunt June,’ he said cautiously.

‘I’m just going,’ said Aunt June, snatching up her coat, a scowl on her face. ‘I didn’t realize I wasn’t welcome here any more.’

‘Of course you’re welcome,’ said Tom, looking at Angel. What did you say to her? was written clearly on his face.

Angel shrugged as June swept past them both.

‘Bye then,’ said Angel.

June shot her a look full of rage. ‘You’re just like your bloody mother.’

Then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

‘What was all that?’ asked Tom.

‘Buggered if I know,’ said Angel. And what’s more, I don’t care. She’d never had any of this ‘close family’ bollocks, and if this was a measure of it, then she didn’t want to start, either. She went off to her room and slammed the door shut behind her.

Families?

As far as she was concerned, you could keep ’em.

134

The devious Donny Maguire had dropped a stitch, using the family solicitor Barry Leigh for the flat purchase. Farmer contacted Fiona by phone and asked her for the name and address of their solicitor. Fiona gave it, and when Farmer phoned the office and as a courtesy to arrange an appointment, the snooty receptionist started playing hardball. According to her, Mr Leigh’s diary was full for today, but Farmer pulled rank and she soon found a slot for one that afternoon. He then told her what it was about and said please could she be sure that Mr Leigh had the relevant information to hand. She said she didn’t know whether that would be possible, they were talking years back and that would be in the archives.