‘What on earth?’ Katie whispered, but neither of the furious men heard her.
‘You are not –’ Rob pulled Sam back then slammed him up against the cupboards again ‘– going back there. You’re not going back.’
Sam’s jaw was set at a stubborn angle as he stared back at Rob. ‘Take your hands off me,’ he said in a surprisingly quiet voice. ‘Look after your family, okay? I can look after myself.’
‘Bollocks you can,’ Rob bit out, giving Sam another push before releasing him and stepping back. Katie felt a hand slip into hers, and looked down to see Benji standing next to her, his wide eyes focused on the two angry men.
‘Daddy?’ he asked in a small voice. Both men spun round to see Katie and Benji standing in the doorway. She watched as the anger and tension drained out of their bodies, and Rob forced a smile for his son’s benefit.
‘We were just mucking around, mate,’ Rob said, striding over to Benji and ruffling his hair. ‘Your mum and brothers ready yet?’
Benji’s intelligent eyes flicked between Rob and Sam. ‘Mum says: “Can you please get up here and help me dress these bloody hooligans.”’
Rob crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Benji, you know the rules.’
Benji scowled. ‘I can’t help it if yourwifeuses the b word and corrupts my young mind, you know … Dad!’ Benji made a grab for Rob’s phone, which Rob had extracted from his pocket. Katie knew the drill: every time Benji swore, fifty pence came off his pocket-money. The argument that ensued ensured that Benji forgot all about the tension in the kitchen as both father and son went upstairs to help Sarah.
What followed between Katie and Sam was an awkward exchange of stilted greetings, after which they actually shook hands.
Shook hands.
It was one of the most ridiculous experiences of Katie’s life. After that, she had fled the kitchen to help upstairs and they’d proceeded to spend the rest of the day ignoring each other.
Of course being joint godparents meant that they couldn’t achieve complete avoidance. During the ceremony they had to stand side by side, and in the photos that followed they were pressed even closer. Being pressed up against his massive bicep, her hip touching his leg, was like an exercise in torture. By the end of the gruelling half hour she’d felt like she was going to pass out.
Rob and Sam didn’t argue again openly but the tension was still crackling between them. Katie was desperately curious as to why they’d been fighting and where Sam was planning to go, but she refused to give into temptation and ask either Rob or Sarah. The last thing she needed was for them to be getting any ideas. She’d finally managed to convince them that she was totally over him, and the nagging had died down to just unhappy looks and muffled sighs.
After the church, the craziness of the party at Sarah and Rob’s house had been a godsend as far as avoiding Sam went. The only slightly dodgy moment was when Russell had tugged on her elbow and stage-whispered in her ear, ‘Heads up, twelve o’clock: Weird Rambo directing his best broody-slash-smoulder look your way. I know he’s an unmitigated bastard, darling, but unfortunately thatdoes notdetract from his hotness.’
Russell’s stage-whispering was akin to the shout of a normal person, and Katie had directed a well-aimed elbow into his ribs to shut him up, lest Sam should mortifyingly overhear. But when she sneaked a look across the room at him he was talking to another of his army buddies, not a brood or smoulder in sight.
It wasn’t like Katie to leave a party early, but she had her limits. Spending time in a room with the man you loved whilst not being able to touch him or really even talk to him without having a stilted, awkward conversation was exhausting. By the end of the night her eyes felt scratchy from holding back tears, her head was banging and her chest felt unbearably tight. She kissed Baby Oliver and hugged Sarah, but gave up on saying her goodbyes to Rob or the boys. They were all close to Sam and she didn’t think she could take another awkward handshake. Russell, seeing the strain on her face, agreed to walk her home, and left her at the door (he had other fish to fry – Lou’s brother was at the party and as Lou had predicted he was just Russell’s type; although, given how tall, blond and attractive Jimbo was, Katie reckoned he would be any gay man’s, or straight woman’s, for that matter, dream come true).
So she was alone as she shut the front door behind her and reset the alarm, her movements automatic. Finally Sam’s security nagging had sunk in, and he wasn’t even around to see it. She sniffed and felt a single tear slide down her cheek before she moved across the dark room, sank down onto one of her armchairs, hugging one of her Lady pillows to her chest, and reached for the light.
‘Christ Jesus! Jesus Christ!’ Katie shouted, springing up out of the chair.
‘Hello,’ Goodie said mildly, not moving from her position on the sofa, where she was sitting with both legs tucked up underneath her. Salem was sitting in front of her; both dog and master were perfectly still. Goodie tipped her head to the side and regarded Katie, a curious expression on her face. ‘You’ve been crying?’
‘W-wha … Goodie! You can’t just let yourself into people’s houses and make yourself at home.’ Katie, despite being in a state of shock, still reached forward to give Salem’s ears a rub (it wasn’t his fault his mistress was a sociopath).
‘You would prefer I waited outside?’ Goodie asked, frowning slightly. ‘I do not think this is the case. It is cold. I installed the security system; I knew how to get in. I knew you would not want me to be cold.’
‘Of course I don’t want you to be cold,’ Katie said with what she felt was infinite patience. ‘But you scared the bejesus out of me. And the door was locked. Maybe you could get past the alarm but I know you don’t have a key.’
Goodie shrugged. ‘I don’t need a key.’
‘What?’
‘Katie, I could break into houses much more secure than this one undetected before I reached the age of ten. This was not a struggle for me.’
‘I … I …’ Katie sighed and collapsed back onto the armchair. ‘Goodie, what are you doing here?’
‘I wanted to see you and tell you to your face that you never have to worry about Daniel Baxter again.’
‘Do I want to know what happened to him?’ Katie whispered.
‘No,’ Goodie told her immediately and firmly. Katie broke eye contact with Goodie’s steely gaze to stare down at her shoes, and unconsciously started rubbing her temples. What kind of ridiculous woman wore bright orange high-heels to a christening? she thought to herself. But as her eyes travelled to her puffy multi-layered polka-dot skirt, she realised that the shoes were the least of her problems. And why was she frantically thinking about her appearance now?
