Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📗

him in the end. He knew about the drink-driving ban.’ She snorts. ‘Why didn’t he tell me?’

‘Perhaps he was too ashamed?’

‘Before we go downstairs, I need to tell you something.’ Her tone suggests more bad news coming my way. ‘When you left last night, I did a closer search of our joint bank account. Something’s not quite right. Over the last few months, he’s been withdrawing one hundred and fifty pounds from the cashpoint every Friday morning.’

‘And that’s unusual?’

She nods. ‘He usually withdraws five hundred on the first of each month, and that generally lasts us the whole month for bits and bobs, money for the kids, odd bits of shopping, that type of thing. He’s been withdrawing this extra one-fifty weekly on top of that.’

‘And you have no idea what he’s been using it for?’

‘No clue at all. We’ve cut back our spending since he was made redundant. Most Fridays, when the twins go to their youth club, he used to take me out. I’m sure I’ve told you before. Only to a local restaurant, but it was our night. He and I; the kids never came. But since he lost his job, he’s been cooking and, on a Friday, he’s made a point of making something special for the two of us and getting a decent bottle of wine in. Every Friday, without fail. But not one hundred and fifty pounds worth of niceness.’ She curls her arms over her head, grimacing at me. ‘It’s all leading to the same conclusion, isn’t it?’ Her nose briefly turns up as if she can’t stand the smell of her words. ‘He was spending it on another woman. There’s no other explanation. While I was working, he must’ve been seeing someone else.’

I sit down beside her and slide my arm across her back. ‘I’ve already told you.’ I squeeze her towards me. ‘You mustn’t make hasty assumptions. It’s not helpful.’

‘Then what has he been spending that much money on?’

I wish I could give her an explanation. ‘We’ll work it out.’ I contemplate telling her about my discovery in her husband’s shoes, but I need to give it more thought. What was Harry really doing in this room? Has he got something to do with the drugs I found? ‘Did you get any further on the five grand?’

‘I don’t know how to approach Pete. Should I involve Pen?’

‘Might get awkward if you don’t. But then again, if he’s kept it from her for a reason, it might cause more trouble than it’s worth. He might have a rational explanation.’

She sighs. ‘Come on, let’s go back downstairs.’

In the kitchen, Harry and Luke are tucking into cheesy-smelling food from cardboard boxes and laughing at something they are watching on Luke’s laptop. Sasha snatches the remote and turns the music down. ‘You boys should be eating brain food, not all that rubbish.’

‘We were starving after the exam,’ Luke says, apologetically.

‘I’m gasping. Cuppa?’ Sasha asks the room in general; and questions the boys on how their exam went this morning.

Luke gives the thumbs-up sign, as Harry swears he has messed it up like all the rest.

‘It wasn’t that bad,’ Luke says.

‘Not if you’ve got a fricking calculator for a brain.’

Sasha waves a knife at her son. ‘Stop with the effing and blinding, Harry O’Sullivan. It doesn’t suit you.’

‘I’ll be lucky to get to uni at this rate.’ Harry pauses to stuff a handful of nachos in his mouth. ‘I got a text from Dad this morning,’ he says, crunching his food.

‘Me too,’ Sasha says, quickly buttering slices of bread. ‘What did yours say?’

A shiver of disapproval flutters through me. I look at the floor. Harry needs the truth.

‘He wished me good luck with the exam and said he couldn’t make it back for the party.’ He shrugs his ambivalence. ‘I guess he’s busy, and it’s a long way to come, but it is my eighteenth. He said he’d take me down the pub for my first legal pint next weekend to make up for it.’

‘It’s only a week away. It’ll go in no time, and he’ll be back.’

I throw Sasha a look, but her guilt doesn’t allow her to cast one back. She arranges some ham and salad on two slices of bread and dollops mayonnaise on the others. ‘It will go in a flash, don’t you worry,’ she says as the doorbell rings.

Talk about saved by the bell.

Eleven

‘Who could that be?’ Sasha asks, her dejected eyes shining a sliver of hope. She throws the sandwiches onto two plates and hands me one before going to answer the door.

I bite into the sandwich and watch the boys glued to the laptop. Two ordinary teenagers belly laughing at some videos. Seconds later, an attractive-looking woman strides in, smartly turned out in an animal-print shirt dress and brutal heels. ‘I thought I might find you here,’ she says to Harry and Luke. She unloads a stack of plastic containers on the worktop. ‘Sixty homemade sausage rolls and my most-talked-about pasta salad,’ she says, swinging her sleek, shoulder-length hair from her face.

The boys steal themselves from the screen. Luke nods at her and nudges Harry. ‘Come on, let’s go up to your room.’

‘Teenagers,’ the woman sighs as they saunter out. ‘I live in the hope that one day, he might, just might, appreciate me.’ She slips her bag off her shoulder, places it on a stool, and flicks the kettle switch.

Sasha lays a hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘He loves you really.’ She introduces us. ‘Annie, this is my friend, Eva. Eva, meet my neighbour, Annie. Art’s wife – Luke’s Mum. The friend who always makes me feel under dressed.’ Sasha pulls a face as she points at her Lycra leggings and work T-shirt, then at Annie. She’s wrong, though. When not in her physio attire, Sasha can always be seen in feminine dresses: floral ones with delicate pleats and girly bows.

Annie laughs. She is subtly made up, her lips are pale pink, and there’s no mistaking