THIRTEEN
He left some time after breakfast, with Emma still in bed, Reece sprawled on the sofa venting wind, and Darren at work. He closed the front door and went across the street to his car and looked back to see Emma in the window. He raised his hand, and she made the tiniest of responses, a mere flickering of the fingertips.
For a second he hesitated, the sight of her, her life, the simplicity and normality of it, it seemed to call him. He resisted and smiled. She did not return it.
As he turned to get in the car, he noted that some kind soul had run down the side with the edge of a coin, or the point of a key, a meandering white line cut deep into the paintwork. He hung his head and sighed. Not much changed. He opened the door and slid in behind the wheel, started the engine and to
