this every time I see you, and I always give you the same answer. And before you start trying to get your vicarious thrills from asking for details of my sporadic sex-life, just butt out.’
Leo cast a worried glance towards the children, who thankfully were still busy chattering between themselves and hopefully wouldn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
This was usually a cue for Max to give her his ‘happy marriage’ lecture, but fortunately this time he declined to comment, and Leo took the opportunity to change the subject.
‘Speaking of my rotten example of a man, what are we going to do about Ellie and this obsession she has with our father? It’s part of the reason I came, to tell you the truth. I tried to talk to her about it last night, but I didn’t get very far. He’s not going to suddenly appear out of thin air, Max. Why can’t she see him for what he was?’
Max looked serious for a moment.
‘Whenever I’ve asked her about him, she hardly seems to know anything. He seems like some sort of ghost figure that drifted in and out of your lives, giving as little of himself as possible.’
‘That’s pretty accurate,’ Leo answered, nodding her head. ‘He used to come and go apparently on a whim. Ellie’s mother appeared to hate him, but he was impervious to it all. Answerable to nobody. But when he was here, Ellie tried so hard to please him. She would run up and hug him as he walked through the door. He’d ruffle her hair and say something like ‘Goodness, you’ve grown’ or ‘You’re looking very pretty today’. That was it. He handed out compliments as a reward for devotion, and let’s face it, Ellie was thirsty for some love and affection. Of her parents he was undoubtedly the lesser of two evils - but he was largely indifferent. It’s not surprising I’ve no time for men, is it?’
Max had tried many times to convince Leo that her father was the exception, rather than the rule, but this time he merely gave her a look which she interpreted as ‘you’re hopeless’ and walked over to the coffee machine, lifting a cup in Leo’s direction.
‘Want one? This fancy machine makes the best - and most expensive - cup of coffee in the world. Every home should have one, don’t you think?’
He pressed a button. Leo heard the beans grinding and the room filled with the delicious smell of fresh coffee as a dark brown flow slowly filled the small espresso cup.
‘Does it do cappuccino too?’ Leo asked.
‘It does, but that requires a small amount of human intervention. Grab me a bottle of milk will you, and I will reveal more of the mysteries of this marvellous and essential piece of kitchen equipment.’
Leo had never considered Max to be strong on sarcasm, but maybe it was the hangover talking. Or maybe she had been wrong about the house. Maybe its malignancy couldn’t be obliterated by a few coats of paint.
6
A few hundred yards away in a red-bricked cottage, Tom Douglas relaxed on his comfortable sofa with the Saturday papers spread around him. An old Fleetwood Mac album that he’d bought out of nostalgia was playing in the background. His dad had played “Rumours” non-stop when he was a kid, and when he saw it on iTunes, he couldn’t resist downloading it.
He was struggling to get used to these lazy days, though, and after a couple of hours of doing nothing, he was getting restless. He’d just decided that he should get up and do something useful when the doorbell rang. He couldn’t imagine who on earth had tracked him down here. He knew hardly anybody except the neighbours who had invited him to dinner that evening.
Remembering that one job he still had to do was to take the front door off and plane a bit off the bottom, he opened it with a sharp tug to welcome his unexpected visitor.
‘Steve! Hi! What a surprise to see you. What brings you to this neck of the woods? Come on in.’
It was good to see an old friend. Steve had been Tom’s sergeant in Manchester a few years previously. He had taken a promotion by moving to the Cheshire force and they had kept in occasional contact but hadn’t seen each other since Tom had relocated to London three years ago.
Tom had forgotten how tall Steve was. He was one hell of big guy, in girth