The New Neighbours by Costeloe Diney Page B

repercussions from any direction, Oliver assumed that Chantal, too, had kept her mouth shut about that evening, and he found it gave him a strange feeling of power to know something about her of which she was ashamed. When the guys at school were discussing women these days,
    Oliver said nothing except to Drew Elliott; and to him he simply said,
    â€œYou were right, Drew, it’s great to have power.”
    When Annie had called him for the third time to get up and come up for breakfast, Oliver crawled off the bed and dragging on his T-shirt and jeans, went upstairs.
    â€œHurry up, Oliver, do,” Annie snapped as he walked into the kitchen.
    â€œ I want to get the kitchen cleared before I go to work.”
    Oliver pulled open a packet of Shreddies and piling them to overflowing in a bowl, slurped milk over them, splashing some on to the table. Annie’s lips tightened, but she managed to bite back a retort and said instead, “There’s a note for you from your dad. He had to leave early.” She passed across a piece of folded paper. With a mouthful of Shreddies, Oliver unfolded the paper and reading it threw down his spoon in disgust.
    â€œThat’s not fair,” he muttered. “He promised.”
    â€œHe says to tell you he’s very sorry,” Annie began. “He got a call from work this morning, some crisis or other. He said to tell you he’d take you on Saturday, instead.”
    Oliver pushed his unfinished cereal away. “Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “I didn’t really want to go anyway.” He picked up the note and ripping it across threw the pieces back on to the table.
    â€œOliver,” began Annie, “He’s very sorry…”
    â€œForget it,” snapped Oliver. “I’m going out!”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œOut.”
    â€œBut you haven’t finished your breakfast…” but Annie was speaking to an empty room, thudding feet on the stairs and a slamming front door.
    â€œBloody boy,” she expostulated through clenched teeth, and sweeping the unfinished Shreddies into the dog bowl, she rammed the bowl into the waiting dishwasher and set it off.
    Annie had never found either of her husband, Steve’s, children easy. Emma wasn’t too bad; with Emma she had an uneasy truce, Emma didn’t actually set out to be awkward, but Oliver made her life as difficult as he could. Annie knew that, encouraged by his mother, Oliver blamed her for the separation and divorce of his parents. He believed that Annie had entered an idyllic marriage, where all was sweetness and light, and had ensnared his father luring him away from his family. Annie knew it wasn’t like that. Annie knew, because Steve had told her, that his life with Lynne had been hell on wheels. Unending rows and tears andrecrimination for imagined slights; all because he was working every hour God sent to establish his business.
    â€œYou’ve no time for me and the children!” Lynne cried. “You leave me to cope with everything.”
    â€œNo time for you and the children?” bellowed Stephen. “Why the hell do you think I’m working myself into an early grave if it’s not for you?” The anger and the bitterness went both ways and ran deep.
    Steve ran his own security firm, Hooper Security Consultancy, and like most men running their own businesses with all their financial eggs, plus many belonging to the bank, in one basket, he worked extremely long hours and took little time off. Business was steady rather than buoyant, but by working very hard he managed a comfortable living and was able to send his children to independent schools. Oliver was now in his first year at Chapmans, a large senior school outside Belcaster, and Emma had another year at Beechlands before she moved on to Belcaster High. The strain on his marriage, however, had become almost unbearable, Lynne wanted the lifestyle his