Jackdaw44: What? That he’s weak, spineless, a liar and a lecherous bastard? No, thanks.

ICE9: Maybe it’s not how it seemed.

Jackdaw44: You’re taking the piss, right? You saw me. You saw what I did.

ICE9: That was stupid.

Jackdaw44: It was sick. I wish I’d seen the look on his face when he saw his car window. When he got home he told Mum that vandals did it. Ha. Ha. Ha. I’m the fucking vandal.

Jackdaw44: You still there?

ICE9: Yeah. Sorry. Bit busy.

Jackdaw44: No worries. Just wanted to say thanks for cooling me out. I would have totally lost my shit if you hadn’t turned up.

ICE9: You did lose your shit.

Jackdaw44: Could have been worse.

ICE9: Hmm.

Jackdaw44: Anyway. Thanx.

Chapter 6

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ Mark is standing in the centre of the living room with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s loosened his tie and popped the top button of his shirt. The skin at the base of his throat is mottled and red.

‘Sod this.’ Jake moves to get out of his armchair, wincing as he puts weight on his bad foot.

‘You’ll stay where you bloody are,’ Mark shouts and I grip the cushion I’m clutching to my chest a little tighter. ‘This is my house and as long as you live here you’ll do what I say.’

‘Yeah, because that worked out well with Billy, didn’t it?’ Jake doesn’t raise his voice but Mark stumbles backwards as though the question has been screamed in his face.

He seems to fold in on himself, then quickly recovers. ‘What did you just say?’

‘Forget it.’

‘No, say it again.’

‘Please!’ I say. ‘Please don’t do this.’

‘It’s all right, Mum,’ Jake says. ‘I can take Dad.’

‘Take me?’ Mark laughs. ‘Aren’t we the big man now we’ve grown a few muscles? Steroids making you brave, are they, son?’

I stare at Jake in horror. ‘You’re not taking steroids, are you?’

‘Dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

‘One more word from you,’ Mark says, ‘and you’re out.’

‘Please!’ I say. ‘Please! Please stop! Mark, he’s your son! He’s your son.’

A tense silence fills the room, punctuated only by the sound of my own raggedy breathing. I brace myself for round two. Instead Mark’s shoulders slump and he exhales heavily.

‘Always the villain,’ he says, looking from me to Jake. ‘I’m always the villain.’

I want to say something. I want to contradict him. To support him. But to do so would mean choosing between my husband and my son. It’s like the night Billy disappeared all over again. My family is disintegrating in front of my eyes and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

‘Mum,’ Jakes says as the back door slams shut and Mark leaves the house. ‘I can explain.’