All The Lonely People - David Owen Page 0,77

that cack-handed attempt to disguise it wasn’t enough, he put the keys back in the wrong pocket!’ Dave lifted them out of his left jacket pocket. ‘I always keep them in the right.’

The keys clattered together as he returned them to their correct place. Wesley dropped onto the sofa before his legs gave out. How could he have made such a stupid mistake? One lapse in concentration could have brought the whole thing down on his head.

‘His car’s still here too,’ said Dave, pointing out of the window, before finally looking meaningfully at Wesley. ‘He took the BMW.’

The hurt on his face made Wesley want to cry. He almost confessed, before he saw Jordan’s bag still pushed into the corner and his clothes still drying on the radiator. He must have known he would take the fall. Wesley needed to speak to him as quickly as possible.

‘I can work it off,’ he blurted, looking between them.

‘No, you can’t,’ said Dave, and it was unclear if he meant because it was impossible or because Wesley would never be trusted to work there again.

‘Just don’t call the police,’ he said. ‘Please.’

Dave ran a hand along his jaw, and then looked at Mum. ‘I should – but I won’t.’

Wesley sagged with relief. Until just a few hours before, ousting Jordan would have been the icing on the cake. Wesley knew better now. He hadn’t fixed his family; he had only broken it further apart.

Kat had fallen asleep, propped against the wall, and only woke when the door shut behind somebody heading inside. She had missed a chance. There were raised voices inside now, some drama that would surely lead to another opening. This time she would be ready.

Nothing ached. No cold had found its way into her bones. Her body felt weightless, precarious, held together with little more than hope. She reached for her phone to take a final selfie, but couldn’t grip it. There was no way to get in touch with Safa to find out if she was still there.

She looked at her hands. She had become Kat in draft form, a barebones briefing, the suggestion of a girl.

Too much had been taken from her. There was no way she could save Tinker alone. She needed to get inside.

As soon as he could get away, Wesley sent Evie to the kitchen for breakfast and grabbed his phone to send a message to Jordan. He couldn’t think what to say, so simply told him everything that had happened in the hours since they’d got home.

The reply came almost instantly. Don’t tell them anything.

But they’re blaming you, Wesley wrote back, as if his brother somehow wasn’t getting it.

They already think I’m the bad one, Jordan replied. Let them.

Beyond his room he heard Mum and Dave’s last whispered argument, and then the door opening as Dave left. He froze, waiting to see if Mum would come to question him. Every guilty beat of his heart seemed like a thunderclap that would betray him to the world. Instead he heard the familiar sound of morning cartoons coming on, cereal being poured.

Wesley waited, his phone promising that Jordan was typing, pausing, typing again. Minutes passed before it arrived, but in the end it was only a few words long.

Let me know when the coast is clear and I’ll pick up my stuff.

The door creaked ajar, but nobody came through. Wesley rubbed his thumb across the screen, as if it might uncover all the words left unsaid, and then shoved the phone into his pocket.

*

Kat stood inside the bedroom door, watching Wesley watch his phone, apparently waiting for a message that didn’t come.

Not even he would see her now. Wilful blindness had long since caved into genuine obliviousness. While before it had made her feel safe, now it would only make more difficult what she needed to do.

‘Wesley,’ she said.

He put down his phone and leaned his head back against the wall, hearing nothing.

‘Wesley!’

It was stupid to have hoped that out of anybody she might have been able to break through to him. She was still so angry with him, and always would be, but he hadn’t forgotten her. There had to be a way to turn it to her advantage, force him into genuine action to stop the attack instead of relying on her.

‘You remembered me enough to invade my room!’ she said, trying to slam the door, finding that even with all her weight she couldn’t push it hard enough to reach the frame. His