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it was years ago when you set that up. Probably not good having everything all over the floor at my age.’

I took a seat beside him and slurped at my tea before asking, ‘Who does that scooter belong to? Do I know him?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He’s just a bloke in town, down South Common. One of Keith’s mates, Adi, said he couldn’t find anyone free to do it. I said I’d give him a hand.’

‘Oh right, good. I was thinking… Maybe if you wanted to start booking in a few jobs, I could do a few hours for you, get some more money coming in,’ I said, watching his reflection as he stroked his chin for a moment.

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that, John-Michael. You’ve got a job and your… umm, hobbies.’

‘You aren’t asking me, Grandad, I’m asking you. I really want to help the family out, and I think if I help, things will improve around here for when the baby comes.’

‘Who said things need improving?’ he said, a quizzical look on his face.

‘Well, I told myself. I woke up this morning with a new… outlook.’

‘Does that mean you’re going to stop following people?’ he asked hesitantly.

He seemed to hold his breath as he waited for my answer.

‘No, not yet,’ I said, but continued at his deflated exhale, ‘But I’m really going to try to stop, eventually. I can’t very well take the baby to the park and follow people at the same time, can I? And do you know what else? One day, I hope to look at you all properly without the mirrors. Even mum,’ I added.

‘That’s certainly something, John-Michael.’ He paused to slurp more of his tea, then he tapped his fingers lightly on the table. ‘I’ll have to put the word out that we’re taking on a few jobs, but I think I can get us a couple of services a week. What do you say?’

‘I say great. Let me know when you need me, and I’ll be ready.’

‘Are you sure you can do this? I know how much you like to do… other things, JC.’

I nodded resolutely. ‘I’m sure. In fact, I want to do this—for our family.’

‘Well, then, I must say, John-Michael, you’ve well and truly surprised me this morning.’ He drained his mug, then pulled the newspaper towards him. ‘Right, I’ve got work to do and calls to make. How about you make us some toast with lashings of butter? Set us up for the day.’

I hadn’t thought about eating until then. With all the excitement of my new outlook and the work I’d already done that morning, it had slipped my mind. I did as I was told, and as the smell of melted butter filled my nostrils, my stomach rumbled. I rammed down a slice before I got back to the table.

Ten minutes later, I cleaned up my plate and mug at the sink, then turned to Grandad’s reflection; he was engrossed in the day’s crossword.

‘Water-clock…’ he mumbled. ‘Nine letters. What do you think, John-Michael?’

‘Clepsydra,’ I said. ‘I’m going to get ready, Grandad. I need to go to the library.’

He raised an eyebrow, then scribbled down my answer. ‘The library? You after any particular book? I thought you’d just about read every book on your favourite subjects in there.’

‘Yes, I have, but I want a book on babies.’

‘Babies?’ He scoffed. ‘Whatever for?’

‘I want to learn about them before Tina’s comes.’

‘You are certainly taking your role as uncle seriously, aren’t you?’

‘I am, Grandad. I’m going to be the best one this town has ever seen.’

He laughed. ‘I’m glad to hear it, son.’

Chapter Eight

I got washed and changed, then retrieved my tattered library card and the shoebox from under the bed where all my money was saved. I would have even more money in it if Mum would stop smashing my mirrors on a weekly basis. I put the small, orange card in my wallet with some money and headed into town.

As I walked, the fog evaporated, and it looked like another moderately mild day. I reminded myself to keep my head up as much as possible, except when someone was walking my way. I found it difficult at first. My head kept lowering, forcing my eyes to drift back to the grey pavement beneath my feet. I had to battle hard with my brain to stop it from practising its usual instincts.

It made me smile to view the town properly instead of through quick glances here and there. There were things I hadn’t noticed before, and though I still averted my gaze when someone came close, I enjoyed the new perspective and crossed my fingers in the hope I’d be able to maintain it.

As I approached the library, I was beginning to win the battle with my brain, when I spotted The Suit sat on my second-favourite bench. My hands balled into fists at my sides; I hated he had the nerve to be there, in my place, especially with the way his presence made my body react on sight. I didn’t know what it was about him or what he was up to, but he didn’t sit right with me.

As I got closer to him, I noticed he had an apple in one hand and a knife in the other. Pocketknives weren’t uncommon; Grandad had a swiss army knife, and so had my dad and Fred. But to have one a few feet away from the police station was risky. I hoped PC Williams would spot him and he’d be arrested. Then hopefully, he’d be removed from our town where he didn’t belong.

I crossed the road and leant against a lamppost outside the library to wait. People walked past, and I tried to watch them properly instead of watching their reflections as I usually did. It wasn’t easy. My eyes would keep drifting back to the library’s windows, fearful someone would turn and look me in the eye. But I also wanted to keep an

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