the other two are. I ignore the lot of them. I push past them all and storm through the flat to the bathroom. I sit down on the toilet. The lock on the door is broken and I have to push my foot against it to keep it closed and to keep the kids out.
'Dad, will you tell him,' Ed shouts from just outside the bathroom. Christ, is there no escape? What do I have to do to get some peace and quiet? 'Dad, Josh is messing with the remote control.'
I can't bring myself to answer. I know he knows I'm in here but I just can't bring myself to speak to him. I push my foot a little harder against the door as Ed tries to push his way in from the other side.
'Dad... Dad, I know you're in there...'
I let my head loll back on my shoulders and I look up at the ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the window. It's pretty small but we're on the ground floor and I reckon I could squeeze through if I really tried.
Jesus Christ, what am I thinking?
Am I seriously considering trying to escape from my own house through the toilet window? Bloody hell, there has to be more to life than this.
iii
Chris Spencer had been laying the drive in Beechwood Avenue for almost a day and a half and the job was not far off finished. It was a cash-in-hand job on the side for Jackie, a friend of a friend of his girlfriend. He'd started digging out and laying the foundations first thing yesterday morning and now, Saturday lunchtime, he was two-thirds of the way through putting down the block paving. It was hard, physical work and he was on his own today after being let down by his brother who, for a few quid, usually helped him out with jobs like this. It was a cold day but at least it was dry now. It had been raining earlier and he'd started to wonder whether all the effort and the loss of his usual Saturday morning lie-in would be worth the wad of cash he was hoping to shove in his back pocket.
The wheelbarrow was empty again. Tired and hungry he stood up and brushed the sand off his knees, ready to fetch another load of paving bricks. A couple more hours hard graft, he thought, and that would be everything but the edging stones done. He pushed the barrow over towards the half-empty pallet on the grass verge at the side of the road. His calculations had been just about spot-on, he smiled to himself. He'd quoted Jackie for two and a half pallets of bricks but it looked like the job was only going to need two. He'd shove the rest of the bricks in the back of the van and use them on the next job. It wasn't much of a saving but it all helped. It was all profit.
He was half-way through filling the barrow when the motorbike pulled up beside him. It was a huge, powerful thing with a wide exhaust and an impossibly loud engine. He'd heard it approaching from the bottom of the hill. Must be Jackie's son, he thought. She'd said something about him coming over to see her this afternoon. He glanced up and nodded an acknowledgement to the rider as he parked his machine and rested it on the kickstand. The leather-clad figure flicked back his visor and took off his helmet.
'All right, mate, how you getting on?' he asked. 'Mum said it was looking good.'
'Almost done now,' Spencer replied, loading the last few bricks into the barrow and standing up straight. He stretched his back and looked across at the other man. 'Couple of hours and I should be finished. Just got to get the rest of these bricks down and finish off the edges. I think it's...'
He stopped speaking and stared into Jackie's son's face.
'What's the matter?'
Spencer couldn't answer. He couldn't speak. He was filled with a sudden, indescribable sense of panic and fear. His heart thumping in his chest, he took a couple of nervous backwards steps towards the house and tripped up the lip of the bricks he'd already laid, landing on his backside. The other man walked towards him and held out his hand to help him up.
'You feeling okay, mate? Want me to get you a drink of water or something?'
Spencer recoiled. He scrambled back to