~~~
When he crept into Kitty’s room, Max’s expression was wary. Kitty could not blame him for that. The last time they met, she was hateful to him. He had kept his promise not to interfere, had asked no questions, requested no progress reports. How he must have suffered.
‘Hi.’ Kitty’s voice stuck in the constriction of her throat.
‘Kitty. What’s happened to you?’ Max’s eyes travelled from her face, down her body, taking in the bruises, the bandage and the cruel, metal equipment.
Sam patted a chair. ‘Sit down, Max. Kitty and I have a lot to tell you.’
Kitty eased herself upright, grimacing at the pain that fired down her legs. ‘The first thing to tell you is that we have proved your innocence,’ she told him.
Max gave a whimper but kept his eyes fixed on Kitty. ‘Tell me.’
‘We went to Mauritius and found a witness,’ Kitty began.
Max laughed. ‘A witness. I can’t believe that. Who?’
‘A fisherman. He was in the bay, up to no good, so he hadn’t come forward before, but we managed to find him and, to cut a long story short, he recognised my dad.’
Max punched his palm, then he realised the implications. ‘Oh, Kitty. I’m so sorry. Where is Paul now?’
‘He’s in custody. So is Maurice.’
‘Maurice? Really?’
77 LUCAS
A makeshift sign was taped to the door at the front of Churchills: CLOSED DUE TO BEREAVEMENT. PLEASE ACCEPT OUR APOLOGIES FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. All the staff attended Mick’s funeral yesterday. Lucas had not told them the terrible secret that his father had murdered his mother, but the story would appear in the press soon enough.
He stood in the empty kitchen, unable to exorcise his father from it, wondering how he could survive this? That his father was a killer was bad enough, but the two men had worked shoulder to shoulder for years, and Mick had walked from this kitchen only a few days ago, without even a wave.
Lucas was furious with him, but also shocked and hurt. He picked up his phone and selected a number. Listening to the ringtone, he gazed around his restaurant; the business that he and Mick had worked like stink to build.
‘Good afternoon, Mason’s, Gerald speaking, how may I help you?’
‘Gerald, this is Lucas Adu, owner of Churchills in Chelterton.’ He swallowed. ‘If you’re still interested in purchasing, I’m ready to talk business.’
78 SAM
The police had searched every drawer and cupboard. Papers, clothing, shoes, crockery, tea towels and other necessities of life littered the floors throughout Maurice’s house. Sam was at the table amid this chaos sorting through a stack of photograph albums. One by one he opened them and turned their pages, now and then removing a photograph and adding it to a small pile: a collection of pictures that bore no image of his father.
He had not looked at these albums for years and they aroused nostalgia and sadness that sat like a physical lump in his chest. He hesitated over a picture taken on a happy day. Mum, Dad and the two boys - so small - grinned from the car of what, in his young innocence, he had believed to be an exciting theme park ride. Maurice and Twitch were squeezed into the tiny seats, their knees up to their chests. Sam and Josh sat side by side in front. It was a great shot of them all, and despite his wish to erase Maurice from his life, Sam pulled it from the page and dropped it onto his pile.
When he closed the last album, he swiped to the photos on his phone, flicking through pictures, deleting each one of Maurice.
An incinerator stood in the garden's corner, rusting away through lack of care. He dumped the albums in and squirted over a bottle of barbecue lighting fluid from the garage. When he threw in a lighted match, the plastic coating on the albums whooshed into flames and began to curl and shrink. Soon the corners of the pages blackened, and as he watched his youth float away in the smoke, Sam wept.
79 FINAL CHAPTER
The blossom had fallen from the trees before Kitty was mobile enough to leave hospital. Cerys made up a bed for her in her dining room. ‘It’s half your dad’s, this house, Lovely.’ Cerys said. ‘You’ve every right to be here, and to be honest I appreciate the company.’ Her voice gave a wobble, and she rubbed her enormous bump.
Parcels of baby equipment arrived daily. Kitty, who could not yet move from her armchair without help, was frustrated and cross, unable even to open the door to the delivery drivers from Amazon or Asda. Anwen and Cerys puzzled over instruction diagrams for furniture and equipment, arguing about which part belonged where. When the last item arrived, Cerys put one hand on either side of her front and patted it. ‘You can come any time now, little one,’ she said, watching Anwen tighten the last screw in a pale lemon cot.
‘I wish I could help,’ Kitty moaned. Cerys flopped onto the settee next to her. ‘It’s done now, Lovely,’ she said, blowing her fringe into the air to cool her forehead. ‘Next stop, hospital. Thank God I got to a few antenatal classes.’
Caroline, one of two district midwives assigned to Cerys, had made a home visit. She knew of their situation and was keen to reassure Cerys that when her labour started, everyone would be off the starting blocks and racing to get her to hospital.
In the end, Cerys’s waters broke at two in the morning
