Free Ninepins by Rosy Thorton Page A

then eyed her entreatingly, looking so much like a puppy himself that she couldn’t help but grin.
    â€˜Dougie? Was that Alfie’s idea?’
    â€˜No – he brought the name with him, poor sod. He’s a rescued dog, from the Blue Cross. Five years old, they said. Tessa thought it would be easier than having a puppy. With the house-training and so on.’
    Her glance strayed back to the newspapers. ‘And is it?’
    Simon’s bottle sketched a ragged arc. ‘It’s difficult for him. New place, new people. Doors in different places.’
    â€˜I can imagine.’ The poor creature was probably deep in trauma, trying to find its feet in this chaotic household. ‘What kind of dog is Dougie?’
    â€˜Hard to say, really. Small, greyish, alarmingly hairy. Some sort of terrier, I suppose.’
    Well, at least he wasn’t an Irish wolfhound. She wouldn’t have put it past them.
    â€˜How about you?’ He swept some Lego off the chair beside her and sat down. ‘What have you been up to?’
    â€˜This weekend? I’ve been painting. Re-doing Beth’s room.’
    â€˜A light green colour?’
    â€˜That’s right. Apple something-or-other. Beth chose it. Did she tell you about it?’
    â€˜Actually, no. But there’s a paint sample in your hair.’
    When he grinned at her like that, she remembered why she’d loved him. But it was funny Beth hadn’t mentioned their decorating plans.
    â€˜It’s all been about this lodger of yours. Willow this and Willow that. She’s talked about little else. In between Dougie, of course.’
    â€˜Oh?’ Laura’s stomach muscles fluttered.
    â€˜She seems really taken with her.’
    He phrased it almost as a question, watching her face, so that she found herself dropping her eyes. ‘Y-yes. I suppose she’s younger than the grad students we’ve had before. Nearer Beth’s age.’
    â€˜Seventeen, and twelve on Thursday?’
    â€˜They just seem to get on.’ Laura tried to sound confident, casual. ‘It’s nice for Beth to have someone to talk to.’
    â€˜She’s been in care. Is that right?’
    â€˜Yes. And?’ Defiance seemed easiest: certainly easier than honesty. But he’d been married to her, after all.
    â€˜ Laura . Are you really going to give me the big liberal lecture about prejudice and second chances? This isn’t some story I’m writing for the Sunday colour supplements. We’re talking about Beth.’
    â€˜Willow seems – ’ she began, and then stopped. Why be defensive? Why not find out? ‘What has Beth said?’
    â€˜That Willow was in a children’s home. And that she set fire to a building.’
    â€˜An empty one. It was an empty garage.’
    This time he didn’t say anything, merely surveyed her steadily, until she sighed and relented.
    â€˜OK. What else has she said about her?’
    Now it was Simon’s turn to be evasive. The beer bottle rolled slowly back and forth between his palms. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just a silly thing.’
    She leaned forwards. ‘Go on.’
    â€˜They’ve been playing this game.’
    â€˜Who has? Beth and the boys?’
    â€˜Well, yes, she was showing them. But it’s a thing she says she does with Willow. They’ve been holding their breath.’
    Laura almost laughed. ‘What do you mean? Just breathing in and counting?’
    â€˜More or less. Except that Beth can hold hers for a really long time. She can simply stop breathing, or so it seems. You should see her. It’s a little bit alarming.’
    â€˜Right.’ She frowned. ‘And then she had the boys copying her, I suppose?’
    â€˜Naturally. Anything Beth does, Alfie has to do, as you know.’
    â€˜Oh, dear. I’m sorry.’ Though quite why she was apologising, she wasn’t sure. Beth was Simon’s