Free Me and Mr Jones by Lucy Diamond Page B

Now the perfume had vanished and it just smelled of nothing, but slipping her arms into its cold, silky lining still proved a comfort.
    Then she met Gary. He was in the home too, dogged by his own troubled past. His mum had been an alcoholic who had died months earlier, and his dad was completely off the scene. For some reason, he was the one person she could tolerate during those first few months, the one person who encouraged her out of the coat, and out of her shell.
    Back then, he seemed lovely. Her soulmate, who understood what she’d been through, who could comfort her when the demons attacked. They clung to each other like sole survivors of an earthquake.
    Admittedly, the warning signs were already there. He got into fights at school, sometimes drank too much, lunged too quickly into random acts of violence. Then he lost it and tried to burn down the school one night and was sent to a remand centre. They fell out of contact and didn’t see each other for five long years. Everyone told Izzy it was for the best, but she felt as if her heart had been split open.
    Just when she had turned her life into some kind of order – living in Albert Road, studying for A-levels in between waitressing and cleaning jobs – he came back. He strolled into the café where she worked, and it was as if he’d never been away.
    ‘I’ll always be here for you, Iz,’ he told her as they held each other after her shift that evening. ‘Let’s get married and be together for the rest of our lives. We’ll be our own little family for ever and ever.’
    It had seemed a good idea at the time.
    After lunch, Charlie’s phone beeped and she heard him swear under his breath as he read the text.
    ‘Everything all right?’ she asked, stuffing the chip papers into a bin.
    ‘Yeah, sure,’ he said. ‘That was my brother – I just lost track of time. I was supposed to be at my parents’ place by now.’
    ‘Oh, right,’ she said. She gazed around helplessly. They’d come in Charlie’s car, and she’d been counting on a lift home later on. ‘Well . . . we could get a bus from here, if you need to go.’
    He waved her suggestion away. ‘Don’t be silly. I can take you back, unless . . .’ He paused, making calculations in his head. ‘Look, tell you what. Why don’t you come with me, pop in there for a cup of tea. It’s on the way to yours.’
    ‘What, all of us?’ She glanced at the girls, who were crouched by some tussocky seagrass, whispering like explorers as they rummaged through its spikes. This was awkward. She didn’t really want to meet his parents today. The girls looked like ragamuffins, their hair wild and tangled from the wind. She no doubt looked every bit as windswept herself, with no make-up and her scruffiest jeans, a hole in one knee. ‘Actually, it’s probably not the best time to—’ she began, but he was already speaking.
    ‘Yeah, course,’ he said. ‘No problemo. They’ll love you guys.’
    ‘LOOK! We got it – a sandhopper!’ exclaimed Hazel just then, straightening up with her fingers curled around to form a cage. Her dimples flashed as she beamed. ‘See him?’
    She opened her palm and a sand-coloured insect immediately leapt to freedom, making her shriek. ‘Oh no. Where did he go?’
    Willow stood up too. ‘What are we doing now?’ she asked.
    ‘Well, you can come and meet my family if you want,’ Charlie said. ‘There’ll probably be some cake on offer . . .’
    ‘Ooh, yes please,’ Hazel said immediately, sandhopper forgotten. ‘Can we, Mum?’
    Right. This was where Izzy came up with a really good excuse for saying no, thank you, and goodbye . . . but her brain failed her. ‘I suppose so,’ she said weakly in the end. One cup of tea and a piece of cake with Charlie’s apparently lovely parents, and then home again. How bad could it be, after all?
    THIS BAD , was the answer, when they arrived at the Joneses’ twenty minutes later. Badder than the baddest badness ever