She paused. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. Are you by yourself? I can wait while you lock up, make sure you get to your car okay?’
‘It’s the least you can do, seeing as you’re the reason I had to stay late.’
Then he leant in and kissed her. First, on her neck by her ear, then pulling the collar of her shirt to one side, along her collarbone. It wasn’t Emily’s perfect collarbone he’d glimpsed earlier that day, but when he closed his eyes, he imagined it was.
His mum was cleaning up the kitchen when he got in. ‘You’re home late.’
‘Yeah, had an urgent delivery to do.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and took a bite.
‘I saved you some dinner. Do you want it now?’
‘I’ll have it later, thanks. Where’s Reu?’
She nodded to the garage door. ‘In there, bashing on two buckets and my washing basket.’
Will laughed. ‘Really?’
‘He’s been in there since he got in from school.’ She swept a cloth over the surfaces, catching invisible crumbs in her hand.
‘Mum, are you sure you’re okay with this?’ He sank his teeth into the apple again.
‘Well, I didn’t realise quite what we were getting into. I expect he’ll be here a while.’
‘You think?’
‘Sounds like the stepfather’s a right bastard. It’d be best for everybody if he’s out of their way for the time being. Reuben’s at an awkward age. They’re probably rubbing each other up the wrong way.’
‘If it gets too much, we’ll sort something else out.’
She stopped what she was doing and leant against the counter. ‘Despite all he’s been through, he’s a good kid. He’s so grateful to be here; it brings a tear to my eye. But he’s too thin. He’s not leaving my house until he puts weight on.’
‘Thanks Mum. You’re the best.’
She smiled and went back to her wiping. He dropped the core into the bin and headed for the garage.
‘Will?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Wipe your face – it’s covered in lipstick.’ Without looking up from what she was doing, she muttered, ‘Working late, my arse…’
He laughed and rubbed his sleeve across his face.
Rhythmic thumping passed through the garage door in fast, complicated beats. The kid was gifted. Will opened the door to find Reu sitting on the upturned washing basket, hammering away on an array of paint tins and buckets before him. He finished with a flourish, a light sheen of sweat on his face.
‘Sounds brilliant, Reu.’
Reu’s eyes dropped to his feet. ‘Thanks.’
Will picked up one of his guitars and hooked the strap over his head. ‘I’ve got an idea about how to get you a drum kit.’
‘What is it?’
‘Busking.’
Reu laughed. ‘Busking?’