Don't Come Looking AJ Campbell (best biographies to read .TXT) 📖

later that day, ferrying the kids to their Saturday evening jollies. He brought a tool bag with him, too. ‘These trampolines can be dangerous in the wind. I saw a video clip of one blow across a garden.’ He removed a box from the bag, rattling the contents. ‘These U-pegs will make sure it doesn’t happen to you.’

When we finished, he pulled the tab on another can of beer, handed it to me and told me to relax on the sun lounger. He joined the kids on the trampoline for over an hour while I snoozed to the sound of uncontrollable giggles and shrills of overexcited kids with a new toy.

He’s such a good person.

I look around the garden, a sense of foreboding hanging around me like a cloak I can’t take off.

Where have you gone, Marc?

Never one to feel sorry for myself, my despondent mood unsettles me. Perhaps Jim is right. Maybe it is time for a change.

The kids are so happy when they spot me waiting at the school gates. They scuttle over, flinging themselves at me. As I lift them up for hugs, they raise my mood. ‘Ice creams?’ Joe asks, and I laugh as I tell him I’m sure Hannah will make them one of her dinner-skipping super specials.

When we get into the car, I search for the times table app I downloaded onto my phone a few weeks ago. Gossiping Gloria from work recommended it as her son had struggled with maths until she discovered this gem. It’s a compilation of times tables sung to pop stars’ songs, which is a hit with my two. I turn the volume up loud, and we roll off the nine times table at the top of our voices all the way to Sasha’s place.

When we arrive, the kids are out of the car and darting over to Hannah before I’ve even switched the engine off. I open my window and call out to Hannah. ‘I’ll stay in here until your mum’s finished.’ She nods and welcomes the children in.

The phone has rung three times since we got into the car, and I want to listen to my voicemail. I’m hoping it’s the plumber who I called earlier about Joe’s radiator. As I press voicemail, a woman’s cry grabs my attention. I look up and around to see Pen standing at Pen’s Parlour door, crying after a white-faced Tom storming away.

Thirty

LUKE

I spent all morning in two minds as to who to go to first. Tom, then Penelope? Or Penelope, then Tom? Or perhaps I was better off targeting only one of them. Decisions, decisions. All the way to today’s exam, I pondered my options. Sasha offered us a lift, and Harry sat in the front banging on about failing today’s exam, too.

I’m many things. I know that, but aggressive is not in the collection. However, the desire to smack him around the head, tell him to man up and stop bloody moaning overcame me. He was really starting to scratch at my nerves.

The exam went as expected. Easy-peasy. I didn’t bother waiting around for Harry afterwards. I’d had enough of his ear-bending on the way here. I couldn’t hack another ton of his bleating all the way home, too. I called in at Domino’s on the way home and picked up a large hot and spicy stuffed crust, along with a double helping of potato wedges.

It came down to money in the end. Most things do, don’t they? Not who, out of the two of them, would have the most, but which of them would I be able to extract the most from. As I chucked the last potato wedge into the air and caught it in my mouth, I decided it had to be her. I washed the grease from my hands and went upstairs to study the video clip one more time. Perfect. Just perfect.

I waited until three-thirty – fifteen minutes before the usual time for her to slip out for her weekly sinful visit to her neighbour – grabbed my phone and wandered over to Pen’s Parlour. Pressing her buzzer, I had to stop myself from laughing. It was time to be serious, after all. I knew about the Lassie theme tune that amuses her visitors, but I’d not yet heard it in person.

Pulling open the door, the surprised look on her face said I was not who she was expecting.

Of course not.

‘Time for a chat, Penelope,’ I said, barging past her. She smelled like she’d just stepped out of a bath of cheap perfume. Her surprised look morphed into one of confusion. I leaned against the reception desk and pinged the pink service bell several times for no other reason than to confuse her further.

She flicked her hands over the top of her high hairdo. ‘What do you want, Luke? Why’re you here?’

I laughed at her standing there in her pink outfit. I couldn’t help myself. She looked like an enormous stick of seaside rock. ‘Luke?’ Her hands dug into her hips as her chin jutted out. Her voice rose. Did I detect a hint of fear? ‘Get out of here.’ Her dog, a pug with a pink bow clipped to its collar, waddled over from its bed by the door and rested at her feet.

Slowly, while staring at her with contempt, I propped my phone up against a box of tissues on her desk. ‘I’ve got something to show you, Penelope.’

The frown lines on her face deepened as she glanced from me to the phone several times. I stood still for a minute so I could draw out our meeting that little bit longer. I was having fun, so why not? She gritted her teeth. ‘What is it?’

I raised my eyebrows up and down.

She folded her arms across her chest and let out a big sigh. ‘I don’t have the time for games.’ She nodded towards the door. ‘Please leave.’

She’s a few spuds short of a roast dinner, this one. Has she not