Free The Good Life by Martina Cole Page A

home.’
    Cain waved him away saying quietly, ‘No. You set the other stuff in motion. The sooner those three go on the missing list the better. I’ll call you later, all right? I want to see those fuckers grovel, and watch them as they die. It’s the cheekiness I can’t fucking abide, the sheer gall of it.’
    Listening to Cain Moran, Elvis Munro felt the relief of a man who had just dodged a bullet. Which – if they were all being honest – is exactly what he had done.

Chapter Thirty-Two
    Caroline Moran was heartbroken, and even Cain had to admit that this display wasn’t her usual posturing − she was genuinely grieving. His own mum Molly was doing the best she could, but the relationship between his mother and wife had never been that strong. Molly was happy enough taking care of little Michael though, and that was a big help.
    Caroline had never looked after that child for a full day on her own since he was born − it was like Jane lived with them. But that had suited Cain because it gave Caroline company when he wasn’t there. As he took his wife in his arms he wondered what the future would hold for them now. Even at this moment, with her grief so raw and her needing him more than ever before, he was comparing her to his Jenny. It was wrong, but he couldn’t help it.
    Jenny had got under his skin like no one else and that was dangerous even as it was reassuring; she was a very calm person and, after the frenetic way of living with Caroline, it was nice to feel so unfettered. With Caroline it was all about her , what she needed, what she wanted. Jenny, on the other hand, wanted nothing from him except his company. He could feel her love for him and it was like a balm − so uncomplicated and easy.
    As if she could sense his thoughts, Caroline pulled herself from her husband’s arms and, stomping into their en suite bathroom, she slammed the door so hard it was a wonder it didn’t come off the hinges. Cain sighed heavily. This was going to be difficult, but he had known that from the off. She would milk this for all it was worth.

Chapter Thirty-Three
    Molly Moran had put her little grandson to bed and was adding the finishing touches to a stew she had made for the next day. It was very late and, much as her heart went out to her daughter-in-law, she was honest enough to admit she found it very hard to like the girl. Caroline looked down on her and that was evident.
    Now her mother Jane had been a different type altogether. How she had raised that obstreperous mare was anyone’s guess, but in fairness to the dead woman, she had done her best. God made the back to bear the burden, as her own mother used to say, and there was a certain truth to it. Although you would need a broad back to put up with that mare up the stairs! She blessed herself at her unchristian thoughts at such a time, but her daughter-in-law would try the patience of Saint Job himself. Even her mother’s death was all about her and not the poor woman scrambled to death in her car, dying on the roadside like a hedgehog. Not that she would say any of this, of course − she didn’t want to cause complete Armageddon in the household.
    Molly heard her son coming down the stairs and poured him a generous glass of whisky − he would need it. She topped up her own glass and, seeing him enter the kitchen, she smiled at him happily. Cain hugged her as she sat in her chair. He loved the smell of her − a combination of Avon perfume, fags and her own particular sweet aroma that always took him back to his childhood. He sat opposite her and raised his glass in a silent toast.
    ‘How is she?’
    He shrugged. ‘The usual.’
    Molly sighed. ‘It’s a hard time for her, son, to be fair she’s just lost her mother . . .’
    He nodded his agreement. ‘I know, Mum. How’s the little man?’
    Molly perked up at the mention of her grandson. ‘Oh, he’s all right, son. A gorgeous little fella, and clever as a bag of monkeys. Reminds me of you when