Chapter 2

As soon as we were out of the store, the girl attempted to pull her hand away but I continued to grasp it firmly. “We’ve made an agreement for an assignation tomorrow but I don’t know anything about you,” I said. “Do you have to be somewhere or do you have time for a coffee so we can talk?”

“I have to be home for half seven because that’s when mum’s making dinner for. But I can spare half an hour or so,” the girl replied.

“Good. I’d like to get to know my new niece a little better. There’s a little cafe just round the corner.” I relaxed my grip, half expecting the girl to bolt, but instead she grasped my hand again. “Hi new niece,” I said, “my name’s Maurice Jackson but friends call me Moz.”

“Amelia Winters, but friends call me Mel.” Her hand tightened and her face became wistful. “Not that I’ve got many friends.”

I nodded in sympathy: it was something we had in common. I didn’t have many either, at least not that I’d call real friends. “Is that anything to do with your liquidity problem?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s been tough since dad left. He refused to pay anything and it’s taking years for the authorities to make him pay. Every time they catch up with him, he moves again. Mum works all hours trying to keep up with the mortgage payments and put food on the table.”

I steered Mel through the door of the cafe and up to the counter. “What would you like?” I asked her.

“Just a coffee, with milk and sugar please.”

“Anything to eat? A pastry?”

Mel pointed shyly at a Danish. I nodded to the assistant, who retrieved it from the display and put it on a plate.

“And I’ll have a green tea, please.”

The assistant prepared our drinks, I paid, then Mel led the way to a free table.

“So where do you go to school?” I asked, once we were seated on opposite sides of a small table.

I was expecting Mel to wolf down the pastry, but instead she picked at it with her slender fingers, breaking off a small piece at a time as though she were feeding a bird. Her nails were short and free of nail polish but showed no sign of being chewed.

“Green Hill Academy,” said Mel.

I was surprised. Green Hill was the area where I lived and Green Hill Academy was a very good school.

“It’s okay,” Mel continued. “Most pupils actually live in Green Hill and they’re very cliquey, looking down on us poor kids from Shenlea. But I get free school meals and the teachers are very nice. Mrs Chivers, my English teacher, let me have her old laptop because mum couldn’t afford to buy me one.”

I sipped my green tea and, having finished her pastry, Mel mirrored me with her coffee.

“What do you do ... Moz?” asked Mel. “To afford a house in Green Hill, you either inherited it or you’ve very well-paid.”

“I’m a consultant, a problem solver,” I replied. “It’s difficult to explain what I do because it depends very much on what each client asks for. And you’re right, it’s well-paid. I own my own company but I subcontract work out as necessary.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

I had a few fuck-buddies, but no-one I’d consider settling down with. And a few times I’d resorted to high-class escorts when I was horny and my fuck-buddies were all busy and I couldn’t be bothered to go out trawling for a one-night stand. But I wasn’t going to reveal that to a stranger. “No-one serious,” I said. “What about you, any boyfriends?”