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things.

      ‘Best get home,’ she added, as if by way of explanation. ‘I have work in the morning and I have a very demanding boss.’

      ‘Yeah, right,’ said Joel. ‘I think you could change that to soft-touch boss, who goes along with your crazy schemes.’

      ‘Does my soft-touch boss require a nightcap before heading home?’ Kezzie said, when they reached her cottage.

      Joel looked at his watch – not quite 9.30 p.m. – ‘Oh, go on then,’ he said, and followed her into the cottage.

      Kezzie went to the fridge in the compact but cosy kitchen. ‘Red or white?’ she asked. ‘I have both. Or beer.’

      ‘I’ll have a beer actually,’ said Joel, while Kezzie poured herself a generous glug of white wine.

      ‘Go easy on that, otherwise the boss might have to be very tough with you in the morning.’

      ‘Do you mind if I have a smoke?’ said Kezzie.

      ‘It’s your house,’ said Joel. ‘Do what you want.’ He wasn’t keen on women who smoked, but he had always had a live and let live attitude about that kind of thing.

      Kezzie, it appeared, rolled her own, but it was only when she lit up that he realized what she was smoking.

      ‘Kezzie!’ Why was he surprised she smoked dope? It fitted in with everything else about her.

      ‘What?’ said Kezzie. ‘I did ask you. And like you said, it’s my house.’

      ‘Sorry,’ said Joel, ‘I’m just not really used to this kind of thing.’

      ‘What kind of thing?’ said Kezzie. ‘It’s a spliff, not crack cocaine. Where’s the harm? I find it relaxing. I don’t do it very often; it’s not like I’m addicted. Alcohol’s a worse drug.’

      ‘I guess,’ said Joel, but he felt faintly disturbed. Kezzie was a mystery, an exciting, mercurial, volatile mystery.

      Chapter Fourteen

      ‘So, you’re going to trust me with the girls again?’ Troy asked Lauren the next time he came round to see the twins.

      ‘I expect so,’ Lauren had to reluctantly concede. She had been pleasantly surprised at the lack of chaos when she’d got home two nights previously. The girls were asleep, and later reported that they’d had ‘lots of fun with Daddy’, the house was tidy and Troy was sitting watching TV, looking completely relaxed. It seemed, despite her fears, he could be trusted to look after the girls.

      ‘Oh come on, Lauren, that’s a bit hard,’ said Troy. ‘I think I did a bit better than OK.’

      Laughing despite herself – annoying how he could still make her do that – Lauren was forced to agree that Troy had passed his first babysitting stint with flying colours.

      ‘So I really think it’s time you let me have them for the day,’ said Troy. ‘I could take them out on Saturday. Give you a break.’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ began Lauren, when the girls came running in from the other room. ‘Daddy said he’s taking us out to the cinema on Saturday, please can we go, please!’

      ‘You sneaky sod!’ whispered Lauren. He’d already asked the girls, knowing she wouldn’t be able to refuse them.

      ‘I didn’t want you to say no,’ said Troy, ‘please let me have them.’

      ‘Please, Mummy,’ said Izzie.

      ‘We’ll be good,’ said Immie.

      ‘It’s not you I’m worried about,’ muttered Lauren to herself. She looked at the pair of them, so eager and excited. It was the first time they’d asked to do anything with their dad, she couldn’t say no.

      ‘OK,’ she agreed.

      ‘Thanks,’ said Troy, giving her an unexpected hug, which she resisted stiffly, trying not to inhale his intoxicating scent of tobacco and aftershave. ‘You won’t regret it.’

      But come Saturday, of course, she did regret it. Troy arrived bright and early to take the girls away, promising to be back around five, and suddenly she was left with a long lonely day and nothing to do. She spent the first couple of hours scrubbing the house from top to bottom. Though she worked very hard at trying to keep the house clean and tidy, with two four-year-olds the reality was that there were usually toys in the wrong places, dirty clothes on the bedroom floor, towels put back crookedly, toothpaste smeared all over the sink and any number of gunky deposits on the kitchen floor. It satisfied her inner housewife to get the place up to scratch, and smelling all lemony and fresh.

      Once that was done, and trying not to clock watch, Lauren did a serious amount of baking, always her refuge in moments of stress. By the time another couple of hours had passed she’d made muffins, cupcakes, scones and shortbread and her cake tins were bursting full. Really, she should start a business doing this, Lauren thought. It was satisfying, enjoyable, and something she appeared to be really really good at. Having used up nearly all her baking ingredients and it still only being lunchtime, Lauren decided to see if Kezzie was in, as she fancied lunch in Keef’s Café. But Kezzie was out, and much as she loved the eccentricity of the place, Lauren couldn’t face lunchtime there on her own. She settled instead for homemade soup, a muffin, and a catch-up with a book her mum had given her for Christmas.

      The afternoon passed in a desultory fashion, and by four thirty Lauren was restless, and anxiously waiting for Troy to ring her. She tried calling him, but he’d turned his phone off. The minutes ticked away, and as dusk started to fall, she realized to her horror that he was late. Half an hour more went past, and still Troy wasn’t back. Lauren was teetering between frantic worry, and telling herself off for being so stupid. Where was he? He’d been gone for hours. Was he about to do another bunk? Had he just wormed his way into her affections, only to take off again? And this time with the children? After all that guff about how much he’d changed. Lauren couldn’t bear to think about it. She tried to phone his mobile again, but still there was no reply. She’d been an idiot to trust him, an absolute idiot.

      Lauren was pacing the floor, on the verge of ringing the police, when Troy calmly strolled up the front path with two overexcited children.

      ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she yelled, as she opened the door, anxiety manifesting itself as anger. ‘I was worried sick.’

      ‘I didn’t know you cared,’ said Troy with a grin.

      ‘I wasn’t worried about you,’ snapped Lauren. ‘I was worried about the girls.’

      ‘Why?’ said Troy. ‘They’re fine.’

      ‘You’re late, and your phone was switched off,’ said Lauren.

      ‘Ah, sorry, we stopped off for a McDonald’s, and I forgot to charge my phone,’ said Troy. ‘We’re only just over half an hour late. What on earth did you think had happened?’

      ‘I – oh – it’s stupid but I thought you’d taken them,’ muttered Lauren when the girls were out of earshot.

      ‘I can’t believe you would think such a thing of me!’ It was Troy’s turn to be furious. ‘Why on earth would I take the girls away from you?’

      ‘Because you left so early, and you were gone so long. And I didn’t know what to think,’ she finished lamely.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ said Troy. ‘I thought it would be nice to have a good day out with my daughters. I didn’t realize you’d be clockwatching. Jeez, there’s no pleasing you is there?’

      ‘Oh,’ said Lauren, feeling foolish. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just on past performance …’

      ‘How many times do I need to tell you I’ve changed?’ said Troy, with a heavy sigh, and Lauren had the unusual experience of feeling guilty that she’d underestimated him. She

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