Page 4 of Final Betrayal

‘It’s your mother’s garden.’

The hand grabbed the collar of Tony’s T-shirt before he could defend himself. He was dragged across the table, clutching at the Spanish heirloom as butter, bread and knife hit the floor.

‘Tony, don’t act like a dimwit with me. What were you doing in my workshop?’

‘I … I …’

‘What?’

‘C-can’t b-breathe.’

As Conor let go and pushed him away, Tony tried to come up with a decent excuse, but nothing was anywhere near as good as the truth, and he definitely couldn’t tell him that.

Swallowing loudly, he ran his hand over his throbbing throat and coughed. ‘I was bored, so I asked your mother if I could do some work in your shed … your workshop. She said she didn’t mind. Just asked me to put something in the microwave for her and take out the bins and stuff.’

‘What work?’

‘You know, trying to make things, the way you used to do. But I’m useless at it. I was only fiddling around.’

‘Well there are some tools missing.’

‘I took nothing.’

‘You didn’t lock the place.’

Digging his greasy hand into his jeans, Tony said, ‘Sorry. I must have left in a hurry.’

‘Nothing in this world could make you hurry.’

He felt his flabby cheeks flush, and put a self-conscious hand on his protruding belly, trying unsuccessfully to hold it in. Smiling weakly, he changed the subject in an attempt to mollify his friend. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Conor.’

Conor was already out in the hallway. ‘I’m not one bit glad to be back.’

‘See you later then? Maybe?’

But Tony was talking to the slammed door.

*

You know when someone wrongs you and you feel like an arrow has speared through your very soul? Let me tell you, that feeling is a lot worse when the wrong comes from a person you loved. What gives them the right to break you up into little pieces and feed your flesh and blood to rabid dogs?

That’s what happened to me. I was deeply wronged. I don’t think the person who hurt me actually realised the enormity of their crime, their deception, but I knew it. Because I am one of those people who makes a list of the wrongs committed against me. I then file that list away until the opportunity arises to present it and seek my price. When the time is right.

And the time is right now.

FOUR

The Parker family sat around their new table, in their new kitchen, in their new house. Lottie was determined that this was to be a fresh start to family life. She promised herself that she was going to be a better mother. Fingers crossed. But sitting down with her children was proving to be strained and uncomfortable. Maybe she had let things get out of hand. Or maybe they had all just become too used to living with their gran. She wasn’t sure what to do.

Sean was sitting with a sullen look pasted on his face. Chloe pushed her food around the plate with her fork, while Katie shovelled mashed potatoes into one-year-old Louis’ mouth. This should be a happy time, Lottie thought, but there was still something missing. She glanced up at the wall, devoid of paintings and photographs. The framed wedding photo, faded to sepia, that had always hung in the kitchen had perished in the fire, along with most of the other physical reminders of her dead husband. Boyd was right. She had to move on. But how was she to fill the void in her heart? Boyd had tried, but invariably she’d spurned him. Was that why there was still a corner of emptiness lodged there?

‘Mam? I asked you a question.’ Chloe pushed her plate to the centre of the table.

‘Sorry. I was miles away.’ Lottie shook her reminiscences out of her head and concentrated on her daughter.

‘As usual.’ Chloe kicked back her chair and stood.

‘What did you say?’

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