‘I’m trying to stop my wife from being killed!’ I shout.
Her gaze shifts past me. I turn and see Joel standing in the doorway.
‘Mummy?’ he asks.
‘No, dude. Not yet. I thought you were watching your favourite… thing.’
I’m so hyped up I can’t even remember the name of the show.
‘Park,’ he says quietly.
Gil grabs his coat from the hook. ‘Aunty Gil will take you,’ she says.
‘Wait, he’s in his pyjamas.’
‘I’ll wrap him up. You need to sober up,’ she says softly. ‘Jo would be disgusted if she could see you. Think about what I said.’
‘It’s too late to go to the park,’ I protest.
‘We won’t be long,’ she says, already in control.
I’m almost relieved. When they have gone, I make myself a strong black coffee and sit down.
Christ, what was I thinking, letting Dan talk me into shots?
I’ll talk to Gil when she gets back. It was just a few drinks, for God’s sake.
She has no idea what I’m going through.
And now she’s disappeared with my kid.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nicola
Nicola observed Mr Neal’s dishevelled appearance the minute he walked through the door. Not only was he late, but he smelled of alcohol, too. Luckily, she could stay on that evening. She was having a curry with her parents that night, and they never ordered until about eight. That was always a good meal, seeing as they paid for it. She told Daniel that she had fed Joel fish fingers and chips as a treat. He seemed fine about it, although she knew they preferred him to eat healthier food. But Nicola had thought that, with Joel missing his mum, fish fingers would cheer him up.
Mr Neal looked exhausted. She considered mentioning her phone call and messages to his wife, which still hadn’t been delivered to her phone, but decided against it. He’d no doubt been calling her, too.
‘How is the conference going in France?’ she asked.
For a second, he looked puzzled.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Yes, fine. Mrs Neal says she should be home in a few days. That will be great, won’t it, dude?’ he said, turning to Joel.
Nicola was about to ask how he’d managed to speak to Jo, since her own messages hadn’t gone through, but his phone rang, cutting her off.
‘Donald, hi. Can you give me a minute?’
He turned to Nicola, who took the hint and said, ‘I’ll be off then.’
***
Nicola’s mum’s answer to everything is a cup of tea. ‘I’ll pop the kettle on,’ she says. ‘The curry should be here soon.’
Nicola sits at the kitchen table, which is covered in the floral-printed oilcloth tablecloth they’ve had since she was a child.
‘So a cuppa will go down a treat,’ says Mary with a smile. ‘Stephen, Nicola is here,’ she calls to her husband.
