Page 44 of Savage Protector

I can imagine, and I cross my fingers that Zayn has a microwave and a fridge of his own. The communal approach might be a bit overwhelming.

“Don’t worry about the food. There’s a halal shelf in the fridge; Zayn requested it a while back. If there’s anything you want and it isn’t there, put it on the list and either me or Jenna will order it in.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. “Who do I pay?”

“No one, it’s all part of the house running costs and covered by the firm.”

“Oh. I?—”

“Through here is the lounge. There’s a big television and music system, but most of us have our own TVs so it tends to be quiet in here. The games room next door, mind, that’s different.”

She opens a huge carved door at the far end of the lounge, and at least a dozen heads turn. I recognise one or two. Rome, Tony, and couple of other familiar faces from my brief stay on Caraksay. Bigger than the lounge, this room has two full-sized snooker tables, a bank of slot machines and pinballs, a dart board, and a well-stocked bar.

“The bar’s free as well, but woe betide anyone who gets pissed,” Ruth warns as we close the door and continue on our way. “Jack insists that everyone is ready for duty, whatever, whenever.”

“No time off?” I wonder aloud.

“Nope. Business is business. That door over there is my husband’s office…” She pauses, listening. “Sounds like Faith is giving him a hard time.”

“Should we?—?”

“No, he’ll be fine. The apartments are up here.”

I follow her up the first flight of stairs. The main staircase is wide, carpeted, with a gleaming carved handrail. I imagine the young Ethan and his brother sliding down it.”

“These are the slightly larger apartments,” Ruth tells me when we reach the first-floor landing. “Two or three bedrooms, for families. Me and Jack are in number three. Tony and Jenna have four, and Rome and Amina have number six. Ethan and Cristina or Aaron and Beth tend to use number five on the odd occasions they stay over here. You’re this way.”

We ascend another, slightly narrower and less ornate staircase to the second-floor landing.

“These are all studio-type flats. Okay for singles and couples. You’re in number eight, second door along.” She leads the way to the second door on the right. “Nice view of the gardens at the back,” she informs me, opening the door and gesturing me inside.

“Isn’t it locked?” I’m surprised.

“No need. The house itself is very secure, and everyone respects each other’s privacy, so this works okay. Can you find your own way around?”

The flat consists of just one room, admittedly large. A king-size bed flanked by wardrobes occupies the space by the bay window. At the other end of the room is a seating area with a two-seater settee, a coffee table, and a portable TV. A basic kitchenette is tucked into an alcove, and I’m pleased to see that Zayn does indeed have a microwave, a toaster, and a kettle.

“There’ll be milk in the fridge. Get more from downstairs when you need it. Bread, too. You won’t fit much in the fridge; he probably filled it with beers anyway. Other stuff will be in the cupboards. I’ll leave you to check all that out.” She smiles brightly. “Is there anything else you need right now?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Except…”

“What?”

“There…there’s no spare room. Just the one bed.”

“Yes,” she answers, “is that a problem?”

“We don’t… I mean, we haven’t… We never…”

“Oh. I see.” Her amused grin suggests she doesn’t see at all.

“I can’t… I mean, he won’t want me to…”

She shrugs. “You’ll sort it out, I’m sure. Remember, I’m in number three downstairs. Just give me a knock if you think of anything. Or you could phone me.” She rattles off her mobile number. “Zayn has all our numbers if you need them.”

“I…thank you.”

“I’d best get off and rescue Jack before he stuffs our daughter full of chocolate biscuits. I’ll see you downstairs soon enough, I daresay.”

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