Chasing the Dark by Sam Hepburn Page B

heatproof carry box. ‘What shall I do with this?’
    She lifted the glass and took a long sip. ‘Raoul! Take him through.’
    Raoul marched me across the hall to the dining room. Those Queens of Kleen had done a pretty good job in there as well. The chandeliers were glittering like disco balls, splashing blobs of light on to the walls and floor, and all the furniture had been polished to a gleaming shine. The big long table was set out with candles and wine, but laid with just one place. Sad or what? Thedouble doors down the end of the room had been left open and I caught a glimpse of a sort of office with a big old-fashioned desk in the middle. But there was nothing retro about the massive computer, the bank of phones or the huge plasma screen she’d had installed.
    Raoul took the lid off Doreen’s salmon terrine and stood there holding out the dish like it was a used potty, and throwing me sneery looks.
    â€˜You got a problem?’ I said.
    â€˜I have been cooking for Miss Craig for ten years and my food has always given complete satis . . .’
    Norma swept in with a newspaper tucked under her arm. I turned to leave.
    â€˜I’d like you to stay!’ she said.
    I hovered at the other end of the table, not sure where I was s’posed to stand.
    Raoul dumped a slice of terrine on her plate, and looked dead surprised when she flicked her wrist and told him to leave. He didn’t like that at all. On his way out he glared at me like I was some devil child come to nick the silver. There was enough of it, that was for sure.
    Norma Craig gave me a smile that was about as friendly as a crack in a tombstone. ‘Joe Slattery, correct?’
    I nodded. ‘Yes, Miss Craig. I’m Doreen Trubshaw’s nephew and . . .’
    â€˜Yes, my lawyer told me. I understand you’re new to Saxted. How are you finding it?
    â€˜Um . . . fine, thanks.’
    â€˜Very different from your life in London, I should imagine.’
    I put my hands in my pockets, feeling dead uncomfortable. ‘Just a bit.’
    â€˜So what was it like?’
    â€˜What, Miss Craig?’
    â€˜Your life before you came here.’
    What did she care? ‘You know, ordinary.’
    â€˜Tell me about it. I crave a little diversion while I eat.’
    So have your dinner in front of the telly like any normal person .
    â€˜Well?’ She was staring at me, like I was in court or something.
    I didn’t see why I had to tell this total stranger the ins and outs of my life just because she was bored and I knew Doreen wouldn’t be too pleased about it either. But I could tell that Norma was used to getting what she wanted, so I rattled on for a bit about Farm Street (leaving out the worst bits) and Mum’s dreams of a proper singing career and how it was just the two of us after my father left . . .
    It was like chucking petrol on a bonfire. She burst into a fit of fury, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring, chest heaving.
    â€˜Would you be that cruel, Joe Slattery? Would you trample on a woman’s love and leave her to pick up the pieces?’
    She was barking mad. I backed towards the door. ‘Um . . .’ What was I s’posed to say? I’d never even had a girlfriend, except for Chenisse Bains and I wasn’t sure that one snog in the ASDA car park really counted as a meaningful relationship.
    â€˜Well?’
    â€˜I know this much, Miss Craig. I wouldn’t run out onsomeone and leave them with a kid. I saw what it did to my mum.’
    That seemed to halt the meltdown.
    â€˜Was she very unhappy?’
    â€˜Off and on.’
    â€˜Betrayal leaves terrible scars.’ She frowned and for a moment I thought she was actually feeling sorry for Mum. But no, five seconds later she was off on what was obviously her favourite subject: herself .
    â€˜Betrayal destroyed my life.’
    Her fork clattered on to her plate and her