Letting You Go (33 page)

‘I
t’s all right, Dad. Let us just take a look at him, OK?’ Alex could hear the shake in her voice.

‘Did you see that? Did you see it? How did they not get hit?
Two
cars! The old fella dodged
two
cars!’ someone said.

She was looking for red, but all Alex could find was one superficial graze on Alfie’s elbow that must’ve already been there because it had scabbed already. The only blood belonged to her father, and Finn, and the grazes they’d shared between them.

Alex hadn’t seen Finn move from where they’d been standing. Just a blur beside her, and then the next thing the blue car had been there in front of her, nearly on the pavement, and Finn had disappeared the other side of it.

They’d just been lying there in a heap when Alex’s legs had figured out how to function again and she’d scrambled over all that glass to get to them. Two grown men, and a little boy somewhere between them.

Millie was standing in shock, white and still. Poppy was crying, big rounded sobs, her hand still clamped in Millie’s because that was the rule when you were charged with the
care of another person’s child – you made sure they got home in one piece.

‘Ted? Shall we let his mum take over?’ Finn said gently.

Finn was sitting on his backside, inspecting the knuckles he’d lost all the skin from but Alex’s father still hadn’t loosened his grip on Alfie. Alex remembered her dad taking her to watch
A Christmas Carol
at the theatre. The ghost of Christmas Present had lifted his robe and an ashen-faced child had peeped out from underneath. Alex thought of that as she looked at her father now, holding Alfie in his arms.

‘Dad?’

Alex watched Finn pat Ted’s hand before carefully unpeeling his fingers from Alfie. ‘He needs to be checked,’ Ted said to Finn, ‘the boy’s got a butterfly heart.’

A crowd had formed a circle around them in the middle of the high street. Someone had hold of Norma.

‘We’ll get him checked, Ted,’ Finn reassured him. ‘Are you hurt?’

Ted shook his head although he’d lost about the same amount of skin from his right cheek as Finn had from his hands. The first car had swerved to miss Norma. Alex had seen that much. But she hadn’t seen how her dad had gotten to Alfie from the other side before the car coming in the opposite direction had been hit by the first. It was as if those two cars had cancelled each other out, balanced the equation, and at the centre of it all, in the eye of the storm, Finn and her father had kept Alfie Sinclair safe.

Finn got slowly to his feet. ‘Alex? Take Millie and the
children inside the shop. So they can’t see.’ Because Finn knew how haunting that could be.

Finn was looking at what was still discernible of the burgundy car. Another circle of onlookers had formed over where the event paramedic had thought his capabilities were more needed. Alex could just see where the windscreen had been punched through from the inside. The driver of the blue car had already been helped into Brünnhilde’s Baps for an icepack.

Finn touched her elbow and moved his thumb over her skin. ‘Go on. I’ll keep an eye on your dad.’

Alex nodded and began rustling Millie and the children towards Finn’s shop. Someone with pretend blonde braids hanging either side of his ears was standing on top of the pavement litter bin to see what was happening in the other circle. ‘Not looking good. The guy who was doing the CPR, he’s just pulled one of the flags down from the lamppost and put it over the big guy. That’s dude’s dead.’

‘I
thought I recognised the car,’ Finn said as the nurse finished off bandaging his hands. ‘I saw it on Emma Parsons’ driveway, the day we helped her with her unwanted guest.’ Mal was leaning back against the stainless steel hand basin. He still looked as grey-faced as he had when he’d arrived on the scene and Millie had burst into tears.

‘I know. I checked the registration. It’s Emma’s husband’s car. Same car he had dropped on his chest in the
accident
Emma was trying to convince me of.’

‘But he’s still in hospital,’ Alex said. ‘Emma’s husband is still in hospital.’

‘So who was driving his car then?’ Finn asked.

‘Driver’s license says a
Mr Eric Mason.
Big fella. Looks like the Parsons’ unwanted guest came back to collect his money.’

‘The loan shark? He helped himself to their car instead?’ asked Alex.

‘Only the Parson’s car wasn’t roadworthy. Emma said her husband had been checking a brake fluid leak when Mr Mason had last been
speaking
to her husband. And, of
course, Mr Parsons didn’t finish the job on account of the jack somehow giving way on him. Emma wouldn’t have had to walk all this way to the hospital every day with her girls, otherwise,’ Mal said.

‘Is he dead?’ Alex asked. Definitely, dead.

Mal looked at the nurse, they exchanged a look professionals gave fellow professionals. ‘I’m afraid I really can’t say, until next of kin have been informed.’

The nurse rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, excusing himself from the room.

Mal glanced over at Alex. ‘I just need to get a statement from your dad, now.’

‘He’s in the end cubicle, with Jem. She made him get checked out.’

Jem had nearly had a meltdown when she’d reached all the flashing lights and saw Ted being ordered into the back of one of the ambulances. Alex had heard her saying to George something about ‘no more waiting’.

Finn eased himself up off the gurney. ‘Thanks, chief,’ he called after the nurse. ‘That’s my painting sideline …
sidelined.
’

‘You’ll heal,’ Alex offered. Finn always did.

Alex saw something ping into Finn’s head. ‘I need to get to a phone, I’ve got a Mr McQueen coming out to pick up a portrait of a black lab puppy.’

‘Not Leonard McQueen?’ Mal asked

Finn winced. ‘That’s right.’

‘What are the chances, huh? He’s just getting his head
stitched. He was our man in the blue Ford, with all the blood pouring down his face. Those head wounds, they bleed like a bugger. Of course, Mr McQueen might not have had that head injury if he hadn’t have worked so hard to miss my son.’ Mal took a huge breath. ‘One of my colleagues is just waiting to talk to him now, so don’t go rushing back to meet him.’

‘Are you all right, Mal?’ Alex asked.

Mal’s face was fighting something back. ‘Thanks again, Finn. For getting to Alfie … I don’t know what might’ve—’

Finn held two bandaged hands up. ‘Mal, forget it. To be honest, I’m not as quick on the old feet as I used to be,’ Finn winced, ‘Ted Foster got to him first.’

Mal nodded sombrely. ‘Ted’s my next stop.’ Mal opened the door and waited for Alex and Finn to walk through it.

‘Mal? Do you mind if I just have a minute with Finn, please?’ Alex asked.

Mal disappeared onto the A&E corridor. Alex felt her nerves jangle.

‘I told you to get a better collar,’ Finn said.

‘What are you saying, I’m responsible?’ The thought had crossed Alex’s mind already.

Finn came to stand in front of her. His bandaged hand like a boxing glove as he used it to lift Alex’s chin. He tried with the other bandaged hand to move the hair from out of her eyes but after a couple of attempts he just started laughing. Alex grinned at him then, she couldn’t help it.

Finn grimaced. Alex saw the cut on his lip had opened again. He dabbed it with the back of his bandage. ‘I don’t think you’re responsible, Alex,’ he said more seriously. ‘That stuff just happens. Unless you engineered it all to get out of finishing what it was you were trying to say to me, before all hell broke loose?’

Finn went to smile again and stopped himself before his lip pulled. Over the subtle aromas of antiseptic and cotton swabs, Alex could smell him. The sweetness she knew she’d find at his neck if ever she found herself back there again. She felt even more self-conscious about it now, it had seemed easier somehow to say it with hundreds of people milling around them.

Finn was hanging back, waiting for Alex to come good. Waiting to see if she would. ‘I just wanted to tell you, Finn … That I—’

Finn stepped into her and slid his arms behind her then pressed his mouth over hers. Alex fell into their kiss. She could taste him, the saltiness of effort left on his skin after jumping to Alfie’s aid, the sweetness of the cut her father had put there when this gentle delicious mouth had spoken the words she still hadn’t spoken back. She fell into that kiss and never wanted to come up for air again.

‘Sorry to interrupt, guys, but we need this room back. Ingrowing toenail, pretty sure you don’t want to hang around for that.’ Finn held Alex where she was, lips still pressed together and cocked an eye at the nurse, smiling in the doorway. Across the corridor, Alex saw Jem and her dad
sitting on a hospital bed, hugging one another. She broke from Finn. ‘Hold that thought, would you?’

Alex stepped out of the treatment room. Jem was walking away from the cubicle Ted was in. ‘Is everything all right? Did they say if he’s suffering from shock?’ Alex asked.

Jem set her hands on her hips and twisted herself to have another look at him. He was already pulling the dressing from his scuffed cheek. ‘Actually … no. He isn’t.’

‘Are you OK, Jem?’

Jem nodded animatedly. Their mother did that too, when Blythe cried at her operas and someone asked her if she was all right, because you had to be mildly insane to cry at a piece of music the way Blythe did.

‘Oh my God, you’ve told him.’

Jem’s eyes were welling up. She started to laugh. ‘I thought the hospital was as good a place as any to tell him about George, in case he keeled over. Or I did.’

‘And?’ Alex was feeling a little shocky.

Jem looked spun out. ‘He said that Mum told him years ago, before I went to uni.’

‘But … you said you hadn’t told her.’

‘I didn’t. Not a soul apart from Mal. Mum just … knew. A bit of an anti-climax, really. George said it would be. Best anti-climax
ever.
’ Jem moved into Alex for a hug. Alex took in another hit of strawberry lip-gloss. ‘Where’s George now, Jem?’

‘She took Norma and Poppy back to the B&B.’ Jem was looking over Alex’s shoulder. ‘Look at the two of them,
Al. How did they come out that battered when the doctors couldn’t find a single scratch on Alfie?’

Alex turned. Ted had just got to his feet, Finn standing casually beside him. ‘Because nothing was getting through them that was going to hurt that little boy.’

Ted offered his hand to Finn. Finn offered him his own hand but wrapped in so much dressing, it looked more like a giant earbud. Ted shook it anyway. Jem bobbed her hip into Alex’s.

‘Thank you. For what you did.’

‘No need, Mr Foster. I didn’t realise you were going for him too.’

‘I’m not talking about what happened today …’ Alex saw her dad breathe deeply and take stock. ‘I never thanked you for what you did. For my son. And I’m sorry it’s took me so long to say it.’

Finn’s shoulders dropped. ‘I did everything I could, Ted. I swear I did.’

‘I know you did, son. And I’m grateful.’

Ted looked up but Alex couldn’t stop staring. He looked at her for a few moments, then he turned back to Finn. ‘I’m not much of a cook … unless we’re talking omelettes. But how about when my wife’s back home, you think about coming on up to the house for dinner. Maybe we could put our heads together and come up with a way of getting my daughter back home? Hmm?’

Finn didn’t look at Alex, he stayed perfectly set on her dad instead. ‘I think that sounds like a plan, Mr Foster.’

‘Ted. Call me Ted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, before young Officer Sinclair starts interrogating me, I have to go tell my wife that I love her.’

‘Don’t even
think
of climbing on that bed again, Mr Foster,’ the nurse warned. ‘I know Blythe here is a killer redhead but no more sneaking into bed with her in those overalls, all right? If the Sister catches you, you’ll have more than a grazed cheekbone to worry about!’

‘What have … you been do-ing?’ Blythe asked.

‘Dad’s a hero, Mum. The
Eilidh Gazette
are after him, aren’t they, Dad?’ Jem teased.

‘I know he is.’ Blythe smiled. ‘Always was my hero.’

‘You’re looking really well, Mum.’

‘You should see how well she’s eating! You keep this up Blythe, and you’ll be back to washing oil off your own bed sheets in no time!’ the nurse said bustling out.

Blythe looked at each of them, something fretful washed over her. ‘I’m glad … you’re all here. I’ve been waiting … to speak to … all of you.’

Alex felt the tension coming off Jem. They’d agreed. No more talk of anything that would sully the memories they all had of Dill. No more hurdles for their family.

‘You know what, Mum? Sorry, but it’s going to have to wait. We’re all talked out, aren’t we, Jem?’ Jem nodded. ‘Dad’s already had his ears talked off, so how about we just do the talking hey? While you rest.’

‘You look … different.’ Blythe frowned. ‘All of you … Has something … happened?’

Jem looked at Alex then Ted. Alex patted her mum’s hand. ‘Nothing’s happened, Mum. We’re just all ready for you to come home to us. Before Dad kills someone with
omelette a la everything
.’

Blythe’s eyes glazed over. ‘Mum? What is it?’ Jem asked. Ted came to the bottom of the bed and laid a hand on one of Blythe’s feet.

‘It’s just … so wonderful … having you all … together.’ She smiled.

Alex laid a kiss on her mother’s perfect porcelain skin. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to that, Mum. Because there’s going to be a lot more of that from now on.’

2 weeks later

‘N
ever in all my born days have I cried at a piece of music. I shall never be able to hear that, what was it called again?’

‘“Casta Diva”.’ Alex smiled.

‘I shall never listen to it again without a box of tissues, I just know it.’ Helen’s chin was already wobbling again.

‘It is a beautiful piece, Helen.’ Alex smiled. She’d cried too, but so had Jem, and their dad, and it wasn’t Maria Callas who’d taken them all there.

Jem was across the other side of the garden making sure the Reverend was fully refreshed. Blythe would never forgive them if they let the Reverend’s glass run low. Alex thought Jem looked pale against her pretty black tailored dress, but George was keeping a close eye on her. Most of their male guests were keeping a closer eye on George.

Helen dabbed her nose again. ‘Hearts are funny things, Alexandra darling. Funny things. Oh, Alfie, no you mustn’t feed the dog from your plate. I’m not sure bringing him over
was the best thing,’ Helen whispered, ‘but Millie’s been so sick again this morning and Malcolm wanted to be here so badly. Go on now, Alfie, go and have a look at the tractors from the end of the garden.’

‘No, Helen. I’m glad Alfie’s here. He’s lifting the mood.’ Alex squeezed Helen’s elbow and carried on doing the rounds, buy her dad some more time alone over by the tree-swing where he was sneakily sucking on a roll up, watching the tractors collecting in the bales. Alex ran a hand over the poppies while she walked around the perimeter of the porch, smiling politely at their guests. She breathed in the new lavender bushes she’d planted for her mum’s homecoming and let it out slow. Helen was right. Hearts were funny things. The funniest of things.
But you didn’t die of a broken heart, did you, Mum?

Finn stepped out of the house doing his best to look comfortable in a suit and a part of the sadness inside Alex lifted.

‘Hey.’

Finn set a hand on Alex’s hip and kissed her head. ‘Hey yourself.’

‘Still feel like a penguin?’

‘These slacks are still biting into my bits if that’s what you mean, Foster?’

Finn gave her a lopsided smile. Alex loved his normal messy ruggedness, but she could get used to this temporary, sleeker version just fine if she had to. ‘I had a root around under the stairs but no tennis racquet I’m afraid.’ He
was going to play lawn tennis with Alfie. Help Mal occupy him while the adults did the adult thing. ‘Is there a ball or anything here he can play with? What about Norma’s stash?’

Alex held her to him for a few seconds and closed her eyes. Over the lavender, her mum’s garden smelled of honey and butter, just as it always had. ‘Finn? Do you think a person can die of a mended heart?’ Blythe’s heart had just stopped beating. Everything had been as it should, she’d come home to a house full of warmth and people and laughter. She’d gone to sleep contentedly next to her husband while Alex and Jem had stayed up embarrassing each other, sharing stories of childhood with George and Finn.

Finn rested his chin on top of Alex’s head, she felt the warmth in her hair as he breathed against her. ‘Let’s hope not, Foster. Or some of us might be toast.’ Alex felt the rhythm of his breathing for a few moments. ‘Alex?’

‘Hmm?’

‘There’s something I wanted to tell you, the day after the boat race.’ There was an uncertainness in Finn’s voice. ‘But I didn’t want to rock the boat. And then your mum came home and—’

‘What is it, Finn?’

Finn swallowed and looked down across the lawns to Ted, observing the tractors Alfie was pointing out to him.

‘Leonard McQueen.’

‘Who?’

Finn squeezed her and exhaled deeply. ‘When Alfie ran
into the road. The guy. In the other car. With the blood. I didn’t recognise him, I
couldn’t.
You saw how covered he was.’

‘Finn, you’re not making any sense.’

‘He was my customer. He was the guy I was supposed to be meeting with the painting, of the black Lab.’

Alex watched something strain in Finn’s features. ‘I remember. The painting that looked like the Lab puppy you wanted when you were little. Finn, what’s worrying you so much?’

‘I don’t want to mess things up with your dad, Alex.’

‘You won’t,’ Alex said certainly. She wasn’t going to let them fall apart ever again. ‘Finn, tell me … what is it?’

‘I went back to the hospital, Al. To check my customer was OK. They’d cleaned him up, but it still took me a few seconds to recognise him.’ Finn dipped his head. ‘It had been a long time, Foster. A long time hoping he might come by one day, just to see how I’m doing. He’d given me a false name, in case I wouldn’t give him any time.’

‘Who, Finn? Who is he?’

Finn chewed agitatedly at his top lip. ‘He’s my father, Alex. My dad came back.’

Alex watched a few red petals begin to flitter across the lawns where the poppies were bowing to the next season. She was stunned. The only thing left of Martin Finn in the Falls was a bad legacy and a scare-story for would-be gambling addicts.

‘Be careful, Finn.’

‘I know.’

‘Is he still in the Falls?’

‘No. He didn’t want to put any pressure on me. I haven’t even said anything to my mum.’

‘And what will you say?’

‘I don’t know yet. He’s sorted himself out. He has a decent job, lives a decent life. But he has a lot of ground to cover, Foster. A lot of time to make up.’

Alex watched her dad across the gardens talking Alfie through the mechanics of the tree-swing. Wasn’t that what they were all doing? Making up for lost time?

‘He’s your dad, Finn. We all deserve to be happy so try not to worry too much about anyone else. Just do what you feel’s the right thing. Life’s too short not to.’

Finn’s hand moved to the back of Alex’s head. He kissed her slowly and softly, then laid a chaste kiss on her nose. ‘I love you, Foster.’

‘I love you too.’

An Aston Martin was just cautiously navigating its way up to the house past all of the cars parked along the track. Finn’s head turned to follow it. Alex stiffened. Her dad was still talking to Alfie down by the tree-swing. He finished setting Alfie up for a push and spotted Louisa pulling up outside the garden fencing. Louisa was getting out of her car. Jem was already walking purposefully over towards the gate from where she’d been topping up the Reverend’s glass again, but Malcolm had beaten her there.

Alex dropped Finn’s hand and walked quickly across the lawn to where Louisa was standing gesticulating at Malcolm.

‘Mother, just go home and have a cup of sweet tea. I’ll be up to the house later. I’ll bring Alfie.’

‘I don’t want my grandson
here
!’ she rasped. ‘It’s bad enough that
you’ve
come. You
know
how I feel about these people!’

‘Yes, Mother. I know how you feel. Now please try to understand how
I
feel.’

‘She was an ungodly woman, Malcolm.’ Louisa’s face contorted beneath her expensive makeup and Alex felt something like pity for her.

Ted was walking up the lawn looking just as uncomfortable in his black trousers and freshly starched shirt as Finn, but Alfie was clinging to his neck and seemed to make Ted look blissfully at ease at the same time.

Alex felt her heart patter. From here, it was just like looking at her dad carrying Dill up the lawn. Maybe Ted’s fondness for the little boy lay somewhere therein; Alfie and Dill were blood, after all.

Louisa watched Alex’s dad carry Alfie, her face closing down like she were made of something mechanical. ‘Malcolm, you take my grandson off that man’s shoulders and get him away from this … this …
family.
’

‘Now hold on right there, Louisa. Finn? Would you mind taking young Alfie here up to my son’s bedroom? Let him choose something to play with. Anything he likes.’

‘Sure thing.’ Finn said, sitting Alfie onto his shoulders. ‘Come on, little bud.’

Ted waited for Alfie to leave while the flush crept higher up Louisa’s neck.

‘Malcolm?’ Louisa implored.

‘This family are mine and Millie’s friends, Mother. And Helen’s. And Alfie’s too.’

‘You are
not
paying any more
respects
to this woman,’ Louisa snarled under her breath. Alex saw her dad stiffen. Louisa was about to blow it. She was about to publicly wipe Ted’s nose in it, in front of his own children.

Ted’s shoulders relaxed. He straightened and gave the sky, then the gardens and all the visitors milling around in them a long, easy look. He looked at Mal, then Jem and Alex and finally, Louisa. ‘There’s no more damage to be done here Louisa. Let it go.’

‘Let it
go
? I will not—’

‘By all means, stay, join us for a cocktail sausage. But I won’t have you badmouth the mother of my children. My beautiful wife, Blythe.’

Alex’s heart was thumping. They’d worked so hard not to let this spill out where it would hurt Ted any more. Alex, Jem and Mal had all agreed, Ted would never have to suffer the indignity of knowing that they all knew. Dillon wasn’t his biological son, but it didn’t matter. They could
pretend.
They could all pretend, and Mal would keep his new brother quietly and safely in his heart, that was the only way forwards for them all and now Louisa was going to ruin it.

‘She was an ungodly woman,’ Louisa repeated slowly. Louisa was going to blow it all out in the open whatever they did.

Ted shook his head at the lawn. ‘Louisa, you’d better get your stuck up ass back in that car of yours and go on your way, before you get hurt.’

‘Ted,’ Mal interjected.

‘You’re going to assault me then, Ted Foster? In front of all of these people?’

Ted shook his head again and laughed quietly to himself. ‘No, Louisa. I’m going to tell you how much I loved that woman. How
easy
it was to love her, how lucky I was to share my life with somebody who was the absolute opposite of a woman like you. How easy it was for the
mayor
to love her too, and how I can’t blame your husband one bit for doing so.’

Louisa’s mouth hung open as if she were about to regurgitate something nasty. Her own sword had been used against her. Jem looked ashen. Alex could feel a tightness in her chest. But Ted, Ted was as calm as the Old Girl on a lazy morning.

Malcolm looked away over the fence. Jem squeezed his arm. ‘Go home, Mum. It’s time we all learned to move on.’

‘I’m sorry, son,’ Ted said to Malcolm. ‘It wasn’t my intention to bring any of this up in front of you kids.’

Mal nodded. ‘It wasn’t my intention to cause my mother to turn up here, Mr Foster. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry?’ Louisa spat. ‘Malcolm, how can you choose
these people?’ Jem moved towards Louisa but Alex shot out a hand to stop her.

Mal shook his head. He moved to Louisa and held her softly by the arms. ‘I choose them, Mum, because they take their knocks and they stick together. They fight against the current to be who they are.’ Ted squinted and nodded at his shoes. ‘Go home, Mum.’ Mal said. ‘Go and sit in the garden and enjoy this beautiful afternoon.’

Louisa seemed dazed as she hobbled back to the car. But she hobbled back nonetheless. Even Jem’s hostility had morphed into something more compassionate as Louisa rolled away.

Ted kissed Jem and put a reassuring hand on Alex’s back, patting her like he had at the Tower House Theatre when she was little. ‘Mal?’

‘Yeah, Ted?’ Mal said quietly.

‘See if you can catch up with your boy. There’s a fine set of bow and arrows in Dillon’s bedroom that could do with a fine young lad to try them out, if you’re happy for him to? I could set him up a target right down there next to the tree-swing. Do you think he’d like that?’

Alex watched her mother’s wake fall into something else, something warmer than just the saying of goodbyes. The September sun bathed the last dwindling numbers of them in evening warmth while the stories they shared grew long like the shadows.

Jem had just seen the last cousins on Blythe’s side into their car when she came skipping back.

‘Hey, what have you got there?’ Alex asked, looking at the case in Jem’s hands.

‘I don’t know, Aunty Carol said she’d found it at Granny Ros’s house, after they cleared it all out years back. It was in that pink kiddy music recorder we used to play with at her house, remember the one with the big plastic purple microphone and the fruit pastille stuck in the battery bit?’

Alex looked at the CD in Jem’s hands. ‘Bloody hell, Jem, can you imagine what’s on there?’

‘Celine Dion!’ they said in unison.

Jem giggled. ‘That was a big number, Gran said we’d killed
Titanic
for her, do you remember?’

‘Let’s have a listen,’ Alex said.

Jem smiled and turned towards the porch where Ted was playing another game of backgammon with Finn. ‘Whip Dad’s Phil Collins out of that CD player, Finn. We’ve got something here that’ll really make your ears bleed.’

Alex could already feel the squeamishness kicking in. Finn was about to taste the Jem and Alex experience, circa 1998 when their recording careers were going full bore thanks to the marvels of a Fisher Price karaoke recorder with playback function.

Alex sat next to Jem on the porch steps and cringed while the CD whizzed to start.

It hadn’t even occurred to them, Aunty Carol had given no warning.

The recording started. Her voice was like cut glass. Pure, strong, arresting to ears that could recognise it anywhere. Blythe’s effortless melody rang out from that stereo while they all sat, unmoving, Blythe’s faultless voice filling the air around them. They listened as Jem’s seven-year-old voice interrupted her mother’s.

‘Can you sing something else, Mummy? Me and Alex like the
Titanic
song.’

‘That was really good, Mum. I think you can even sing better than Celine can,’ Alex heard herself say earnestly.

Another voice cut in over Alex’s. ‘Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!’ Alex watched her dad take a sharp intake of breath. Jem began softly crying beside her on the steps.

‘Uh-oh,’ Alex heard her mum say, ‘I think someone’s baby brother wants to have a turn, what would you like to sing, Dill?’