Standing by one of the tall windows, Abs smiled at his friend’s good fortune. Bethany’s parents had paid for virtually everything they had, the house, the flash car, all the luxury holidays, and Jez would want for nothing in his life. Abs was filled with happiness for his best mate, and for his own success in getting back on the show.

They were both living the dream.

His phone rang and he took it out, but didn’t recognize the number.

‘Yeah?’ he said.

‘Mr Cruikshank, this is Detective Sergeant Ajay de Vaz. We met this morning.’

‘Course we did,’ said Abs, who met a lot of people and didn’t remember him at all.

‘I’m afraid I have some bad news.’

25

When Sasha got back to her Thorpe Bay home, she heard Kev talking to her mother in the kitchen, and her nerves spiked. Absolutely the last thing she wanted to do was play Happy Families with her nearest and dearest. She whipped off her jacket and shoved it at the banister, kicked her shoes to the skirting, thinking of all the things she had to do. Denny was sitting on the stairs playing on his phone, the tinny music of the game already making her ears bleed.

‘Have you said hello to Gran and Grandad?’ she asked him. His elbows danced this way and that, reacting to the life-and-death struggle playing out in the game, but he didn’t answer.

‘This is the Mothership to Deep Space Denny,’ she said through the banister. ‘Come in, Denny.’

‘Not yet,’ he said in irritation, his eyes never lifting from the screen.

‘Don’t you think you should?’

‘In a minute.’ It was the answer he gave her at least a dozen times a day. Are you going to get dressed for school? In a minute. Have you tidied your room? In a minute. Denny, the house is on fire, run for your life. In a minute!

‘Denny—’

‘Don’t talk to me,’ he shouted. ‘You’re putting me off.’

‘Just so you know, I was nearly blown up today.’ She gripped the banisters and thrust her face into the tiny gap. ‘For realz!’

‘Yeah, right.’ He made an incredulous face. ‘As if.’

She headed into the kitchen, where her mother, Ursula, was busy emptying dips out of plastic tubs into dishes. Her father, Alec, his skinny knees poking out from cargo shorts and his face as brown as a berry, was perched on a high stool like a sunburned vulture, drinking from a can of lager. She kissed him on one bronzed cheek.

‘Hi, Dad.’

‘Finally,’ Ursula tutted. ‘What kept you?’