always got a laugh.
Sometime later on that Friday night in May, he had led the entire room through several different karaoke versions of Queen’s greatest hits. And done an impression of his line manager that was so accurate that even people who didn’t know him were crying with laughter. Then Ian decided to make his way home.
A little bit worse for wear, he looked around for a taxi and was relieved when, after ten minutes, one pulled up next to him. He jumped into the back, settled into his seat and mumbled his address to the driver. He pulled out his phone to check his messages. Just as he had expected, there were well over a dozen texts from his workmates thanking him for making Big Friday (as he had christened it) such a laugh and saying it was the highlight of their week. Ian always felt good when he read these messages. As though he had found his place in the world. It made him feel as if simply by turning up to work and being himself he was doing a good thing.
He saw that he had a few missed calls from his girlfriend, Emma. He thought about checking his voicemail but then he got sidetracked recalling just how funny his impression of his line manager had been. He then fell asleep, only waking up as the cab pulled up outside their two-bedroom terrace in Bearwood.
Ian handed the cabbie a ten pound note, told him to keep the change and made his way into his house. He headed straight for the kitchen to grab a glass of water in the hope of staving off the hangover he knew would be coming his way.
With his glass in hand, he was about to turn on the burglar alarm and go upstairs when he noticed a light on in the back room. He went to check. Sitting on the sofa, looking for all the world as if she had spent the whole night crying, was Emma.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sobering up as he raced to her side. “Have you been crying?”
Emma nodded. “I’ve been trying to call you all night!”
“Oh babe,” said Ian as he remembered those missed calls. “It was noisy in the pub. I’m sorry. You know I’d never ignore you. Tell me sweetheart, what’s the problem?”
“It’s bad news,” she said. “Really bad news . . . I’ve lost my job.” And then she burst into tears.
Chapter 3
Emma was so upset that Ian didn’t even bother trying to get any more detail out of her. Every time her sobs seemed to be on the verge of dying down, she would open her mouth, but before the words reached her lips another wave of sadness would crash over her. And she would be in tears again. Hugging her tight, Ian thought that the best he could do for now would be to stroke the top of her head, tell her everything would be all right and try not to yawn. Although he really needed to go to sleep, what he wanted more than anything else in the world was for Emma to be okay.
Ian and Emma had been together for seven years. They first came across each other back in their school days at St Benedict’s in Smethwick. Ian was a couple of school years above Emma but had been on nodding terms with her because her brothers, Liam and Keith (the Kavanagh twins), were in the year above him. They had played five-a-side football with him over at Hadley Stadium.
Ian hadn’t thought much about Emma back then (mostly because the Kavanagh twins were big lads who didn’t take kindly to people messing with their kid sister). Then, long after they had left school, he had bumped into her one Saturday morning on Bearwood High Street as she was coming out of Woolworths. Ian had recognised her straight away, even though she had changed quite a bit. While the schoolgirl Emma had been all NHS glasses and braces, the Emma now standing in front of him was stunning. She had beautiful green eyes, gorgeous long hair, a great smile and the most amazing laugh. It was like a cross between a chimp and an out of breath hyena, which some people might have found annoying. Ian thought it was the single best sound he had ever heard. Right there on the