insisted, taking him by the arm and not giving him the opportunity to object. While Anna poured tea, Chas stood at the kitchen bench, marvelling at the abnormality of normality. The very act of placing eight custard creams on a plate seemed surreal to him.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ he said, when Anna asked him what his time had been like. ‘I guess it’s like being on an aeroplane with drunk football fans for four years … on Aeroflot!’
Dave gave Robbie some Calpol and then rocked him to sleep in his arms.
This was more comfortable to Chas than anywhere else in the world. Certainly it was more comfortable than his parents’ home, with its stiff antique furniture and tastefully appointed bedrooms (bar the Hibs duvet). This was the kind of home Chas had always wanted.
There were silences as they skirted around issues– none of them wanting to talk about assaults or postnatal depression – but they were the kind of silences families have, not comfortable so much as just not uncomfortable; the kind where everyone knows everything there is to know.
As Chas left, Anna hugged him firmly. There was a tear in her eye as Chas smiled and walked off.
As he walked past the row of terraces, Chas felt like flying with happiness. She wasn’t married. She was alone. And he was going to find her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the Sainsbury’s delivery van, Sarah chatted happily to her shotgun killer. It had been quite some time since she’d had the old effect on men, and it was very clear that it was happening now. She was still blonde, still had huge boobs and white teeth, and could still flutter her eyebrows and giggle girlishly.
Paul was about forty, and it turned out that he was the manager of all the Sainsbury’s stores in the Highlands. Every so often, he explained, he spent a day in the life of one of his workers, so he could keep in touch. He lived in a castle near Perth, and spent his evenings drinking champagne and his weekends horse-riding and showing the kids a good time.
Sarah immediately felt she could trust Paul. There was something about him, something that saw the real her, understood the real her, and it was truly liberating to be listened to and respected.
‘What about you?’ he asked Sarah. ‘What’s your life like?’
Before Sarah knew it, she was crying. Her life, actually, was shit. She was lonely and her marriage was at breaking point. Her husband clearly preferred the company of her best friend. She felt fat and frumpy. Paul tutted and told her she was beautiful, that he didn’t understand the attraction of rake-thin women. It seemed no time at all before Paul stopped the van at the campsite, where he insisted on setting up the tent while she had a shower and bandaged her feet.
‘Feel like a beer?’ Paul asked after she returned from the shower.
They sat in the local pub and talked. Paul’s marriage had ended several years earlier. His wife, he confided, had left him in the end after hundreds of ultimatums about working less and spending more time kicking the football around with the kids. He didn’t listen, and she made good on her threats.
It was eight pm when Sarah next looked at the time. She was drunk, and so was Paul, and the pub had filled sufficiently with noise and smoke and people for Paul to try and kiss her. She almost let him, but decided not to.
‘Not just now,’ she said, tapping on the beer mat with his phone number on it.
*
While Sarah had spent a wonderful day being listened to and reassured by Paul, Krissie and Kylehad walked as fast as they could to stop their adrenalin from being channelled into the wrong organs. They sped along the valleys, determined not to be distracted.
Krissie’s resolve had diminished along with the miles, and there were several moments in particular that had pushed them towards lunch.
First was the derelict house. It stood in the wilderness with stone walls and no roof, its five grassy windows lined up like a train. It was an unmissable
‘It’s hard to explain,’ he said, when Anna asked him what his time had been like. ‘I guess it’s like being on an aeroplane with drunk football fans for four years … on Aeroflot!’
Dave gave Robbie some Calpol and then rocked him to sleep in his arms.
This was more comfortable to Chas than anywhere else in the world. Certainly it was more comfortable than his parents’ home, with its stiff antique furniture and tastefully appointed bedrooms (bar the Hibs duvet). This was the kind of home Chas had always wanted.
There were silences as they skirted around issues– none of them wanting to talk about assaults or postnatal depression – but they were the kind of silences families have, not comfortable so much as just not uncomfortable; the kind where everyone knows everything there is to know.
As Chas left, Anna hugged him firmly. There was a tear in her eye as Chas smiled and walked off.
As he walked past the row of terraces, Chas felt like flying with happiness. She wasn’t married. She was alone. And he was going to find her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the Sainsbury’s delivery van, Sarah chatted happily to her shotgun killer. It had been quite some time since she’d had the old effect on men, and it was very clear that it was happening now. She was still blonde, still had huge boobs and white teeth, and could still flutter her eyebrows and giggle girlishly.
Paul was about forty, and it turned out that he was the manager of all the Sainsbury’s stores in the Highlands. Every so often, he explained, he spent a day in the life of one of his workers, so he could keep in touch. He lived in a castle near Perth, and spent his evenings drinking champagne and his weekends horse-riding and showing the kids a good time.
Sarah immediately felt she could trust Paul. There was something about him, something that saw the real her, understood the real her, and it was truly liberating to be listened to and respected.
‘What about you?’ he asked Sarah. ‘What’s your life like?’
Before Sarah knew it, she was crying. Her life, actually, was shit. She was lonely and her marriage was at breaking point. Her husband clearly preferred the company of her best friend. She felt fat and frumpy. Paul tutted and told her she was beautiful, that he didn’t understand the attraction of rake-thin women. It seemed no time at all before Paul stopped the van at the campsite, where he insisted on setting up the tent while she had a shower and bandaged her feet.
‘Feel like a beer?’ Paul asked after she returned from the shower.
They sat in the local pub and talked. Paul’s marriage had ended several years earlier. His wife, he confided, had left him in the end after hundreds of ultimatums about working less and spending more time kicking the football around with the kids. He didn’t listen, and she made good on her threats.
It was eight pm when Sarah next looked at the time. She was drunk, and so was Paul, and the pub had filled sufficiently with noise and smoke and people for Paul to try and kiss her. She almost let him, but decided not to.
‘Not just now,’ she said, tapping on the beer mat with his phone number on it.
*
While Sarah had spent a wonderful day being listened to and reassured by Paul, Krissie and Kylehad walked as fast as they could to stop their adrenalin from being channelled into the wrong organs. They sped along the valleys, determined not to be distracted.
Krissie’s resolve had diminished along with the miles, and there were several moments in particular that had pushed them towards lunch.
First was the derelict house. It stood in the wilderness with stone walls and no roof, its five grassy windows lined up like a train. It was an unmissable
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