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Back The Snakes Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Title Page
  2. About the Author
  3. By the Same Author
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. PART ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. PART TWO
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. PART THREE
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. PART FOUR
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. Acknowledgements
  42. Copyright

‘You were right, babe,’ he said, as he put it in the overhead locker. ‘Turns out I did need hand luggage.’

In the air, after the seat belt sign had been switched off, when the drinks trolley had been and gone, up in the nowhere, high-up place before the descent, the cabin was filled with thin, brilliant sunlight. It seemed to dissolve the sides of the plane, the air was suffused with sky. Bea leaned across the empty seat and took Dan’s hand.

‘So,’ she said briskly. ‘How much?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘How much money will it take, to stop you thinking I’m a hypocrite?’

‘I don’t get it.’

‘We should put a number on it, shouldn’t we?’

‘Bea, that’s messed up. Seriously?’

He studied her face. Her eyes were as clear and true as ever.

‘Think about it, and decide,’ she said.

The plane plunged to the right. The wing below them disappeared from view. They put their seat belts on.

‘I suppose it’s a pretty good problem to have,’ she said.

‘What is?’

‘Too much money.’

‘Yeah,’ he smiled. ‘It is.’

‘Better than death and dying. Better than lots of problems.’

They landed at Heathrow around lunchtime.

‘This way. This way –’ Griff barged ahead.

VIP. Platinum. Ropes unclipped. Smiles.

‘You’re staying with us presumably?’ said Griff, as they skipped the queues. ‘Bea? You are coming home?’

PART THREE

PART THREE

21

21

Griff had bought the house in Holford Road for £2 million in 1994, at the end of five years’ regeneration after the losses of ’89. He’d recently had it valued at £15.5 million. He wasn’t planning to sell, it held sentimental value. When he bought it, Bea was five years old, Alex twelve, and Ed was at Eton. They had done a lot of work to it before moving in, and then again when Ed’s eighteenth birthday party got out of hand. Rampaging sixth-formers had smashed chandeliers and crystal vases, and pissed on the sofas and carpets. They had ripped up the oak floorboards and thrown them onto a bonfire of garden furniture, lit with lighter fuel. The neighbours had called the police and the fire brigade. It had made the papers. Griff had been enraged by the high moral tone of the press. Teenage parties often turned into riots. Kids smashed stuff when they were drunk and stoned. Just because these kids went to schools with Latin mottos journalists indulged in end-is-nigh grandstanding. Griff took legal vengeance on the parents of the boys Ed didn’t like, and overlooked the others. The only thing that really upset him had been the large turd on his pillow.