I shake my head. “Oh, well, now you’ve said that I feelsomuch better.”
Mr Grey laughs, and this time his amusement can’t hide his air of controlled aggression. “I like you.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s a good thing.”
He shrugs. “Not usually. Your brother is okay for now, which is considerably more than he deserves. However, he is now Mr Jackson’s business which could mean a severe change to that status if things don’t go well.”
“What do you mean?”
He cocks his head. “Your brother owes a lot of money to Mr Jackson, Wes, and that’s not something that makes my boss happy.”
Shock rushes through me so quickly I feel almost dizzy. “That can’t be true. You must be mixing us up with someone else. Why would Tyler owe money to a—” I falter. “—a bookie?” I finish slowly. Surely, I’m wrong.
He offers me a cool smile that hardly makes his thin mouth move. “I think you’re getting the picture now.”
He goes to move past me, and before I can stop myself, I grab his arm. He stills, and then a ripple of movement goes through his body. He turns his head slowly and stares at me, and I drop his arm as if stung.
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “But you must have us mixed up with someone else. Tyler doesn’t gamble.”
“Ah, that’s what they all say. Unfortunately, you’d be wrong. Your brother’s got a bad habit, Wes, and sadly, your housing situation just got a little more unstable because of it.”
A bad habit.The words ring with truth. Something’s been wrong with my brother for a while. I’d thought it was because he’d got problems with Cath or was worried about bills. I’d tried to talk to him about it so many times, but he always brushed me off with a smile and a joke.
I had no idea gambling was the problem. He’s always liked a little flutter on the horses, but neverthis.
My silence grows, and Mr Grey elaborates. “Your brother’s house is being taken to pay his debt to my boss. You’ll see your brother again once we’ve cleared it and got the keys off you. Until then, he’s Mr Jackson’s guest. I’m afraid you and your sister-in-law will have to find somewhere else to live.”
“But where?”
“That’s not my problem,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “I’m here to ensure things go smoothly with the house changing hands and to give you a little warning that if you act out, your brother’s life might get even more complicated. I’ll take your keys now.” He holds out his hand expectantly. I fumble in my pocket and drop my keys into his palm. He looks towards the house. “I don’t bother myself with women, but some of my colleagues aren’t quite as fussy, so I’d do as you’re told, Wes.”
He nods at me and heads towards the white Mercedes parked on the street, and I watch him go, my mind reeling. One of the thugs comes out and throws a small, brightly stencilledcupboard onto the pile of broken furniture. I sag against the low stone wall for a moment, feeling like my legs don’t work anymore. Tyler had made that cupboard for my mum when she was alive, and I remember the sunny day when I’d tried to help him paint it. I’d been too young to be any help, and I can still hear the sound of my mum’s laughter.
A woman’s voice sounds from inside the house, the note of fear clear. I rush into the house, my heart pounding like it’s going to come out of my chest. “Cath?” I shout in panic.
I relax slightly when she appears in the kitchen doorway. Her long, dark hair is ruffled, but she looks okay if you can manage to ignore the complete devastation and fear on her face.
I open my arms, and she walks straight into them, sending me back a couple of steps with the fierceness of her hug. I clutch her tight and feel her whole body shudder. Tears instantly wet my T-shirt. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper, patting her back. “It’ll be okay.”
It’s a lie, and we know it.
She raises her face and even tearstained, she’s beautiful. My brother never seemed able to believe that he’d scored such a gorgeous girl and one with such a big heart.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers.
I pull her out of the way of two men who are carrying our old sofa. Sweat runs down their faces, and they grunt as they wrangle the sofa out the front door. I hear a crash as it joins the pile of all our other worldly possessions.
“Is it true?” I ask. “About the gambling?” Some small part of myself expects her to tell me no, and my heart sinks when she hesitates.
She steps back, still clutching my hand. “I didn’t believe it at first, but I phoned Tyler.”
“Youspoketo him? Is he okay?”
She nods, and relief makes me shaky. “He told me to do what they say, and he’ll explain everything when he gets back.”
“Gets back from where? And where is he meeting us? We don’t appear to live here anymore.”
A man totes the pine chairs out of our kitchen. I remember my mum getting them on credit from a furniture store. She’d been so proud of them that we had to get changed before we could sit on them for a while. The crash as they meet their end makes me wince.
