The Make

miserable bastard, got a receipt for her money. By the time that was accomplished, it was mid-afternoon, and getting dark. She’d caught the tube, passing a Santa strumming a banjo down there in the depths, his small black dog wearing reindeer horns; then she’d walked until her feet throbbed, and pitched up back at home.

Home.

Well, once it had been that. Years ago. Now it was a strange place, filled with strange people.

‘This is Sandy Cole,’ said Suze.

‘We spoke on the phone,’ said the girl, in that same high, almost childlike voice. She got to her feet and held out a hand. ‘You’re Gracie, right?’

Gracie shook hands briefly and sat down. She was tired. Worried about her brothers and her business. Unsure of her feelings after seeing Lorcan again after such a long time. She wanted to grab a hot shower in her own beautiful flat, to sit on her own big couch and eat supper in front of the telly. She wanted everything back the way it was, normal. What she didn’t want was to be here, feeling her mother’s hostile gaze upon her, having to make conversation with a stranger.

‘I told Sandy about what happened with George last night,’ said Suze.

The smile dropped from Sandy’s face. ‘It’s awful.’ Her eyes filled up with tears. ‘My poor George.’

‘So you and he are quite an item,’ said Gracie, thinking that it would have been better if her mother had spared Sandy the grim details. What would it gain, distressing the poor cow even more than she already was?

Sandy nodded and sat down when Gracie did. ‘George proposed to me,’ she sniffed. ‘We’re in love. Look.’

She extended her bony little left hand and showed Gracie the ring on the index finger; it was a clear stone the size of a pinhead, possibly a diamond, set on a thin band of what looked like white gold.

‘He didn’t say a word about it,’ complained Suze. ‘You’d think he would, now wouldn’t you? But then, I don’t suppose I matter, do I? I’m just his mother, after all.’

‘Oh, I’m sure George would have told you soon,’ said Sandy, clearly anxious not to offend. ‘It was a whirlwind romance. We’d have been having an engagement party very soon. George promised. And then this happened, and now he’s in hospital . . .’ Her voice tailed off. She looked down at the table.

‘He’s tough. He’ll be fine,’ said Gracie, feeling sorry for the girl.

Suze gave Gracie a sour look. ‘Easy to say, when you don’t care.’

Gracie had to grit her teeth to keep back the angry words that threatened to come out at that. ‘I wouldn’t have driven down from Manchester if I didn’t care,’ she said instead.

‘It’s so awful,’ said Sandy, filling up all over again.

‘You going in to see him tonight?’ asked Gracie.

‘Yeah.’ Sandy had the tissues out, mopping at her eyes.

‘I might tag along. If you don’t mind?’

‘God no. I don’t mind. I’d like the company.’

‘Right.’ Gracie stood up. ‘I’m going up to get showered and changed.’

‘How’d you get on over at the flat?’ asked Suze. ‘You fetch George’s things? Bet it’s a mess.’

‘Yeah, I got his things. And it is a mess,’ said Gracie. ‘We’ll get a cleaner in, get it smartened up for when George gets out.’

‘If he does,’ said Suze darkly.

‘Unless you fancy getting your hands dirty?’ Gracie couldn’t resist that. She knew she should have, but she just couldn’t. Suze had never been a housework fiend. Her nails were French manicured even now. She just glared at Gracie. And was that really going to help poor bloody Sandy, hearing Suze say if he does?

She left them to it, went on upstairs and into her old room. It was strange, being back in here. It seemed smaller. The decor had changed, and the bed linen was floral lavender – not her sort of colour choice, but it was clean, and neat. She kicked off her shoes, took off her blouse and was rummaging in her open suitcase for clean underclothes when someone tapped at the door and opened it immediately. Expecting Suze to start in on round two, Gracie was startled to see Claude standing there in the open doorway, with his eyes fastened to her front as usual. And to her intense irritation she realized that her bra was skimpy; there was a lot of her front to see.

‘Oh – sorry,’ he said, and gave a sheepish grin.

Gracie had had enough. The damage to her casino and then her car. The anxiety about George and Harry. Seeing Lorcan again. She felt suddenly as if her brain was about to implode with the stress of it all. And now, this. She stood there as if carved from stone and said: ‘You will be if you come in that fucking door unannounced again, arsehole. You got that?’

He looked startled. ‘Suze asked me to come up and see if you wanted something to eat, that’s all,’ he said, the grin vanishing, guilty colour rising on his florid cheeks.

‘No. I bloody well don’t.’ She’d grab something at the hospital, fuck this place. She took three swift strides across the room, fury sending the blood buzzing in her ears, and shoved Claude out on to the landing. His face was an almost comical mixture of shock, arousal and awkwardness. ‘Mother!’ Gracie yelled full volume down the stairs.

Claude was edging away from her now and making don’t do that gestures. But Gracie was only just getting up a full head of steam.

Suze poked her head out around the kitchen door. She gawped up at Gracie standing there on the top landing in her bra and skirt, and at Claude there beside her.

‘Hey, Mum – tell your fucking boyfriend to keep out of my room. He comes in here again without an invitation, I’m going to cut his nads off and stuff them down his bloody throat, okay?’

Gracie went back into her room and slammed the door shut. She faintly heard Claude saying I don’t know what she’s talking about, and Suze shouting something from the bottom of the stairs. Gracie took a chair and jammed it under the door handle. Then she started, once again, to get washed and changed.

This time she was interrupted by her mobile. She picked up. Down in the hall, the shouting was escalating. Well good, she thought. Better she knows what he’s like.

‘Hi Gracie, it’s me. Brynn.’

Gracie sat down on the bed. ‘Hey, Brynn. How you feeling now?’

‘Better.’

‘That’s good to hear.’

‘Yeah, but Gracie, there’s other stuff, I thought I’d better give you a call, let you know what’s been going on.’

‘How’re the staff? You’ve been in touch with them?’

‘Sure, sure. They’re on full pay, for now. Hope that’s okay.’

‘For now, yes. Of course we don’t know how long the repairs are going to take.’

‘The police and insurance people weren’t too keen on you shooting off so soon after the fire,’ said Brynn.

‘Yeah, but the police knew I had family trouble.’

‘Even so, they weren’t happy.’

Gracie was getting a horrible sinking feeling about this call. She thought of the bag of hair, smoke getting in your eyes . . .?

‘I’m not sure the insurance will pay up,’ said Brynn. ‘I’m sorry to piss on your parade, Gracie, but they’re talking about arson.’

Gracie stood there, feeling her orderly, safe little world crashing around her. Smoke getting in your eyes? ‘They got any proof of that?’

‘They said there’re traces of an accelerant having been used to start the fire. You know I thought it might be electrical? The electrics were fine.’ Brynn’s sigh was audible down the line. ‘Look, they’ve told me it’ll be another couple of days for the police forensics team to finish combing the site for evidence, then four more days before the insurers get anywhere near being satisfied, and personally I don’t see much hope of that . . . then the clearing-up can begin. It’s going to be weeks. And Gracie, our own inside security system showed someone hanging about outside the building. Which ties in with the