Page 122 - My Home on the Earth

glanced at an array of framed family photographs on the piano. His three children had grown up except for one, Terrence, who died aged thirteen in 2005. There was not a day that went by when he didn’t remember him. A few years after his death, Stuart, with his wife, Marjorie, started a charity for homeless boys. He owned a large property opposite the Jolly Sailor pub and had converted it into nine flatlets. The young residents were scrutinised for weeks before being considered a place. Stuart provided remedial education before the boys could adjust back into mainstream schooling.
‘Hello, darling. I didn’t hear the taxi. Did you see Kate?’ asked his wife.
‘No, not tonight,’ he replied. ‘Two police officers turned up after someone called the station about flashing lights. My torch! They took a lot of interest in the cabin. I know Kate is there but with her background I’d never find her. I bet she spotted me and them. I wanted to ask her if she was all right and if she’d put the things we collected in the cabin for the boy. Can’t you get her to use her mobile phone? It would save me a lot of walking. I intended to leave some money for him to buy food when the police surprised me. I didn’t let on about the boy – but I’m worried they might come back. Their presence is enough to spook the lad. I worry he might make a run for it. Then what happens to him? By the way, can you drive me to the office in the morning? We have a board meeting and a possible candidate for a flatlet.’
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John Collins felt terrified when he heard crunching
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