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having coffee and cake. Freddie was the one to hear the front door open. He scrambled up from the floor and ran into the hall, followed by his brother. ‘Uncle No!’

Liv didn’t move from her position on the sofa. She glanced at her watch, pointedly. ‘Well, well, pigs can fly when they try.’

In the hallway the chorus began. ‘Uncle No!’

‘Yes.’

‘Uncle No!’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

The panto ‘call and response’ routine had started when Freddie first learnt to talk. It was now a feature of every family gathering, made all the more manic by the wait the boys normally had to endure before their uncle’s late arrivals.

Noah came into the lounge, bedecked by the shouting, excited boys. He peeled Arthur off his leg and threw him, squealing, onto the sofa. Freddie released his grip voluntarily, thereby avoiding the rugby antics.

‘Hi.’

The men shook hands. The siblings exchanged kisses. Megan disappeared, without being asked, presumably to fetch Noah a coffee. There was a beat.

‘Where are Josie and Lily?’ Liv asked.

‘They’re not coming.’ Noah flopped down on the sofa next to Arthur.

‘Oh. Why?’ Liv was disappointed. She approved of Noah’s partner. Josie was the yin to his yang – grounded and sensible, in direct contrast to Noah’s impulsiveness. Liv had been imagining Josie’s presence as a steadying influence on the weekend’s proceedings. Besides, it was nice for the boys to spend time with their cousin, Lily. It happened far too infrequently.

‘Josie’s having to work tonight. One of her staff cried off at short notice, so she’s standing in.’ Josie was the manager of a unit for teenagers with behavioural problems. A tough job that she was very good at.

Noah started tickling Arthur, which set off a chorus of ‘No, no. I’m gonna wee-wee!’

‘Who’s looking after Lily?’

Noah threw Liv a warning glance. ‘What is this: twenty questions? Josie’s mum. And Lily has a dance competition on Saturday that I’d forgotten about, so it makes more sense for them to stay at home. Is that okay with you?’

Liv switched her attention to Arthur. ‘That’s enough. If you need a wee, go to the toilet. Noah, leave him be. I don’t want them cranking up to a frenzy right before they go to bed.’

Freddie, ever alert to his mother’s instructions, chipped in with, ‘Mummy. Please. Not bed yet. Uncle No has only just arrived and I’m not tired.’

‘I didn’t mean you’re going to bed now. Megan is getting you some tea. After that you’ll go up and have a bath and story before bed.’

‘Can Uncle Noah read to us?’

Liv was bemused by Freddie’s fascination with her brother, but it was undeniable that from birth he’d wanted to be around Noah. He seemed drawn to the wildness and mayhem. Somewhat irritatingly, Arthur loved Noah as well, but in a much healthier, take-it-or-leave-it kind of way.

‘Will you, Uncle No, please?’ Freddie pleaded. There it was, that desperation for attention. Liv felt for her eldest son, whilst wishing that he was more robust.

Noah deferred to Liv. ‘If that’s okay with your mum, I’d love to. But first Uncle No needs a proper drink. Red or white?’ he asked the room, just as Megan returned, bearing a fresh pot of coffee.

Chapter 11

THE SIMPLE act of holding the cigarette between her fingers brought Chloe some comfort. She savoured the moment, delaying lighting up. It was the ritual as much as the nicotine that mattered. Vaping just didn’t hit the spot in the same way. She looked around the garage. It was crammed with the detritus of family life. Megan’s cleansing touch hadn’t reached this far. Chloe was glad. In fact, if anything the garage was even fuller than before, because now there was more space available. Her dad had eventually sold his car, after it became obvious he would never drive again. She pushed the thought away, as she always did whenever her brain filled up with a memory that was too bulky to accommodate.

She lit up, inhaled, exhaled, watched the smoke drift. She pushed the door to the house shut with her foot, sealing herself off. Another drag. She felt like a teenager, smoking in secret. In truth, she would never have smoked in the house – it was, after all, a filthy habit – but she still preferred to blame her exile on Megan’s fussiness rather than her own fastidiousness. The one benefit of having Megan around was that there was always a scapegoat to hand.

Chloe’s eyes ranged over the boxes, cluttered shelves and piles of unidentifiable stuff that spilled from all four corners of the garage. As a teenager she’d been press-ganged into a number of failed attempts to impose order on the chaos. Eloise had tried to position these infrequent purges as ‘fun’. They had been anything but. They had been hard work, overseen by an increasingly impatient, dirt-and heavy-lifting-averse mother. The wall of big plastic boxes at the far end of the garage were a testament to Chloe’s efforts. They contained a miscellany of school reports, trampolining certificates, football trophies, Best-in-Year chemistry-prize textbooks, newspaper clippings, Brownie badges and even a few of Noah’s old judo outfits. Liv had, needless to say, contributed the most bricks in the wall. Was it sentimentality that had led their parents to keep all these mementoes of their childhood achievements? Perhaps, but from memory, it was more that Eloise had simply wanted rid of their stuff.

Chloe heard the door from the house to the garage scrape open. Instinctively she hid her cigarette. A wholly futile gesture, given the unmistakeable smell of fag smoke.

She was relieved it was Noah. ‘I thought I’d find you in here.’ He eyed her cigarette. ‘You said you’d given up.’

‘I have,’ Chloe said, as she took another drag, ‘just not consistently.’

Noah shook his head in mock disapproval. ‘You’d better not let Liv catch you. You’ll get the lecture, again.’

‘She’s not gonna know, is she? Not unless somebody goes blabbing to her.’

Noah pushed a pile of their dad’s old magazines out of the way – Jonathan had been a regular subscriber

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