Susan Lewis - Home Truths

Lois’s reply came quickly. Still working on it, but will have info to share by tomorrow. #SAVINGGRACE.

Angie was sitting in the driver’s seat of her van, hands clutching the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the frosty green across the street where, back when they were a normal family, the children had played cricket against the adults in summer and roasted chestnuts and marshmallows over bonfires in winter.

She should start the engine, head off into the day, but she was having trouble making herself go through even the most familiar of motions this morning.

Grace and Zac had already left for school; Emma had taken them, and she, Angie, needed to get to work. She had to clean a restaurant in town for one of her neighbours first – she must text to say that she needed the cash asap – and then she had a meeting with one of Bridging the Gap’s main sponsors. Later she was planning to carry out a job search for a couple of the residents – any success she achieved on their behalf always gave her a lift, so she was actually looking forward to that. Then she’d go to the office to answer emails and make phone calls. All this would happen as it should if she could make herself go any further from the house than this.

It was the email she’d opened only minutes ago that was holding her in a paralysis of dread. It had been sent yesterday, but she hadn’t read it until after the children had left this morning, with Zac’s chirpy voice telling her he wanted a unicorn cake for his birthday.

Came by the house earlier today. Your van was there, but reckon you slipped out while I was looking for you round the back.

Mr Shalik wants to help you, Angie, so call me tomorrow.

It was from Agi, the thug, goon, muscle, whatever anyone wanted to call him that Roland Shalik used as his right-hand man.

A tap on the van window made her jump, breaking her so abruptly from the turmoil in her head that she almost gasped. She looked up at the face staring in, trying to process the reality of it. For a moment fear tricked her eyes into seeing a stranger, until she realized it was her neighbour, Melvin, who lived two doors down with his wife, Mandy, and their twin girls who were Zac’s age. He was clearly concerned, perplexed, as he circled a finger for her to lower the window.

She did so and as cold morning air swept into the van her lungs grasped it as though she’d been suffocating them. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I was miles away.’ Melvin and his family hadn’t lived in Willow Close for long, and hadn’t gone out of their way to be friendly, just nodding good morning when they came out with the bins, or to get in the car. She understood that some people preferred to keep themselves to themselves, but she’d been surprised when they hadn’t joined in the carol-singing party that Grace and her friends had organized at the community centre before Christmas. Everyone else had taken part, bringing flasks of hot chocolate, mince pies and handmade ornaments to decorate the tree. Bob, from across the street, had asked Angie if she’d mind him being Santa this year, a role Steve had always played, and she’d told him she thought it was a lovely idea.

Steve would have wanted her to say that, and Bob would hopefully never know that it had almost broken her to go and watch someone else in her husband’s place.

‘Are you OK?’ Melvin asked. He looked awkward, apparently not wanting to get involved if there was a problem, but here he was anyway. ‘You’ve been sitting there for a while,’ he explained. ‘Are you having engine trouble? I’m about to go into town so I can give you a lift …?’

‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ she assured him. ‘I was just … I …’ Her hand tightened around her phone. ‘I was waiting for someone to call, and didn’t want to drive …’ She stopped, the fear of a call silencing her . It hadn’t happened yet, but she knew it would, just as she knew she’d have to take it.

Melvin was watching her through the thick lenses of his dark-rimmed glasses, seeming to see past her excuse, all the way to … To what? Even she didn’t know the real reason she was sitting here like someone who had no idea how to drive, so there was no way he could.

‘OK, if you’re sure …’ He gestured behind him to his own car.

‘Sure,’ she insisted. She hadn’t realized until now that he was quite good-looking. She and Emma often likened men to movie stars, and she guessed Melvin-from-down-the-street could qualify, on a dark night at a good distance, as a bit of a Matt Damon. Smaller, thinner, kind of gaunt, but still managing to be attractive. He was more Emma’s type than hers.

‘I should be going,’ she said, starting the engine. ‘Hope you have a good day.’

As she drove away she glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw that he was walking back down the street. She wondered what his story was, why he and his family were so aloof, although he’d seemed fairly neighbourly just then.

By the time she’d cleaned the restaurant, and met with the sponsor who’d willingly committed for another year, she’d forgotten all about Melvin, had even managed to push Liam out of her mind for the time being. Now, having completed an hour at the office, she was picking her way through the ruts and puddles of a building site on the outer edge of town, heading for the portacabins tucked in against the hillside like metal mushrooms.

She hadn’t received the dreaded phone call yet, nor had she responded to Agi’s email, although she was ready to admit that she couldn’t go on avoiding him. The trouble was she still didn’t know how to deal with the mess she was in, what her next step should be to avoid sinking her and her family completely.

A burning prickle of fear coasted down her spine.

As she approached the first portacabin a tall, muscular man in a hard hat and hi-vis jacket came out in a hurry, and almost collided with her at the foot of the steps.

‘Christ, I’m sorry,’ he apologized, reaching out to steady her. ‘I didn’t see you. Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, dimly aware that this was the second time today that she’d had this start to a conversation. He really did look concerned, and then his frown deepened as he peered at her more closely.

‘Do I know you?’ he asked. ‘You look familiar.’

She shook her head, certain their paths hadn’t crossed, but it wasn’t rare for people to think they recognized her, since her face had been all over the press at the time of Steve’s death. Anyway, this man was a bit of a Daniel Craig, so she’d surely remember if they’d met.

Two handsome men, and it wasn’t even noon. Maybe the day wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

‘I know,’ he suddenly cried, ‘you’re Wattie’s wife. Steve Watts, the decorator?’

As the pain of hearing her husband’s name tightened her heart, Angie said, ‘That’s right.’ It wasn’t a surprise that this man had known Steve, for just about everyone who worked on the buildings in this town had. ‘Don’t tell me, he did some work for you?’ she ventured. As everything about Daniel Craig – he wasn’t so much like him really, maybe better – suggested he was some sort of boss, it was a reasonable guess that he’d employed Steve at some stage.

The man smiled. ‘When we could get him,’ he replied. Then his eyes softened in an almost tender way as he said, ‘I’m so sorry about what happened. It must have been very difficult for you and your family.’

Angie didn’t deny it, why would she, but she didn’t want to get into it, so using words to cut off the swell of emotion she said, ‘I’m here to find out if you’d be willing to give a second chance to one or more of my residents. My sister and I run Bridging the Gap, you might have heard of it. Well, you might not have, but we help people, men mostly, to find their way back from difficult times.’