Free Something Hidden by Kerry Wilkinson Page B

in-house with funding from the
council.’
    Keira and kids . . . the two were never far away from each other. It was ultimately what had driven them apart. That and her father, or anything else which meant Andrew didn’t have to
blame himself.
    She began to pick at her bob, relaxing into the seat and smiling. ‘They’re great kids. We go to the places that are most under-performing. Everyone thinks they’re scum hanging
around on street corners waiting to stab anyone who risks going near – but they’re just young people who didn’t have the chances we did. Once you give them a bit of encouragement,
it’s amazing what they come out with. I was working at this school in Altrincham and there’s this lad there – Ethan – he’s only fourteen but was expelled from his
previous place and had been in trouble with the police. At first, he’d sit in the corner scowling but he’s a really talented artist. It’s completely natural to him. Then
there’s this area around Huyton where we put together the funds to build them a skate park. Last summer, we got a professional in to show them some tricks once a week. The police told us
late-night call-outs from residents were down by over forty per cent between July and August. It’s actually making a difference and Daddy’s really supportive, he—’
    Keira stopped as the woman behind Andrew launched into another mistimed burst of laughter, presumably because her partner was pulling a face, or something else of equal comedy gold.
    ‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ Andrew said, meaning it.
    She nodded, not quite admitting that she was. ‘It’s nothing to do with my history degree, of course.’
    ‘My job’s hardly anything to do with criminology.’
    ‘How’s that going?’
    Andrew was saved by the waiter returning with their tapas plates. There was a pause as they both poked and prodded, trying a bit of everything, with Andrew hoping Keira had forgotten her
question.
    ‘So . . . ?’ she said.
    ‘What?’
    ‘How’s work going?’
    ‘I’m trying to make it what I want it to be.’
    ‘How’d you mean?’
    ‘Being a private investigator
could
be finding out who’s cheating on whom, or who the father of someone’s baby is – but I don’t really go for
that.’
    ‘Isn’t that good money, though?’
    Andrew plucked a chewy piece of chorizo from one of the plates and munched on it, ignoring the question. He didn’t need money – but could hardly tell his ex-wife that, or else
she’d ask where his small fortune had come from. If there was one secret he needed to keep, that was it.
    ‘I get by,’ he said. ‘Jenny’s good – she takes away a lot of the smaller bits and pieces, so I get to go and talk to people.’
    ‘She’s pretty . . .’
    Andrew glanced up to catch Keira’s eye. ‘I can’t read her at all. I’m not entirely sure why she wants to work for me. She could do anything with her life but seems happy
– well, content. She has a problem with people . . .’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘I’m not sure. It’s complicated.’
    Keira didn’t push the point but Andrew had no idea how to put it anyway.
    They scraped away at their plates, listening to more booming laughter that was eventually drowned out by the general hubbub around them. The waiter returned, the table was cleared, glasses
refilled, bill presented. The evening wasn’t a write-off.
    ‘My dad hates you, y’know,’ Keira whispered over the top of her glass following an awkward pause.
    ‘Okay,’ he replied, unsure what to say. If only she knew the truth.
    ‘He wouldn’t approve of us being out.’
    ‘Are you going to tell him?’
    ‘No.’ She finished her drink but continued to hold the glass in front of her face. ‘We should do this again.’
    ‘Let’s find somewhere without a human hyena next time.’
    Keira giggled, peering over Andrew’s shoulder towards the woman. ‘Deal.’

10
TUESDAY
    Andrew sat staring at the house, enjoying the warmth that was