Bex finished mixing the cake and poured the mixture into two tins before she popped them into the oven and set the timer.

‘Good,’ she said to herself as she began to tidy up the kitchen, washing up the mixing bowls, putting the flour, eggs and milk away, wiping down the surfaces. After a while she checked on how the cakes were doing, turned them around to make sure they got an even bake and then filled the kettle and flicked the switch.

She could hear the boys still playing their game with their cars, still engrossed in something that seemed to involved lots of crashes and excited shouts and vroom-vroom noises. Then, over the racket, she heard the doorbell ring. As she crossed the hall to answer it she wondered who it might be.

‘Oh!’ Miles.

‘Is this a good time?’

Bex realised she’d sounded less than welcoming. ‘Yes, yes, come in. I’ve just put the kettle on.’

‘Great.’

She led her visitor into the kitchen where the smell of baking filled the air.

‘Baking?’

‘Cakes, for the school fete.’

‘You got nobbled?’

‘You’d think that now I’ve got a stepdaughter who is in year ten I’d have learned to say no when the primary school PTA is looking for volunteers.’

‘Next year, maybe you’ll be more determined.’

‘Fat chance. I managed to get caught for the church fête too.’

Miles laughed. ‘You’re a lost cause.’

‘Hopeless.’ Bex made the tea thinking that at least Miles hadn’t concurred with her self-assessment that she was hopeless – well, not out loud at any rate.

As the tea bags stewed in the mugs she got out the cake tin and opened it.

‘Can I offer you a slice of Victoria sponge?’

‘You certainly can.’

Bex cut a large slice for him, put it on a plate and then handed it to him with his tea.

‘This is very good,’ Miles said indistinctly with his mouth full.

‘Thanks.’ Praise indeed. She sat down opposite him.

‘Excellent, in fact.’

‘Good. Glad you’re enjoying it.’

‘You have hidden talents.’

‘Except when it comes to bar work.’

‘You’re doing fine.’

Blimey, that was a change of tune. ‘Now,’ Bex added for him.

Miles didn’t contradict her but ate some more cake. Across the corridor the boys’ game got increasingly raucous so Bex got up and shut the door. She was about to sit down when the timer went. A gust of hot air and steam wafted out of the oven door as she opened it before she reached in and extracted two cakes, baked to perfection. Expertly she got them out of the tins and put them on a wire rack.

Miles finished his cake. ‘Now then...’ He reached down beside his chair and picked up a cordless drill. ‘About that bolt.’

‘Oh yes, this is so kind of you.’

‘Hey – I’m going to be drilling a few holes, not donating a kidney.’

‘Even so.’ Bex walked into the utility room and picked up a carrier bag, lying on the counter. ‘Here we go. I hope I got the right sort of thing.’ She handed the cardboard and plastic packet to Miles and he examined the contents.

‘I think this’ll do the job very nicely and stop Houdini making a repeat performance.’

‘Good. The chap in the shop said that everything needed is in the packet.’

‘Great. So, if you’re not planning on more baking, I’d quite like a hand with this.’

‘Of course.’

The pair went out of the house and down the drive to the gate where Miles battled to release the bolt and the screws from the packaging. Finally he managed to tear off the plastic and everything sprayed out onto the gravel.

‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered.

Both Bex and Miles dropped to their knees to scrabble around and retrieve the various components. Bex managed to gather up half a dozen screws and held out her hand for the pieces that Miles had found. Their fingers touched as he handed her the two main bits of the bolt and Miles seemed to let his fingers rest on hers longer than seemed necessary. Suddenly Bex felt awkward and scrambled to her feet again.

‘I think I’ve got everything.’ she said, trying to sound casual, and wondering if she was misinterpreting the situation.

Miles pressed the trigger on his drill and the gadget whizzed into action. ‘Let’s do it then. Give me the bolt and I’ll fix that on first. Then we can line up the bit it slides into.’

‘“The bit it slides into”? Is that a technical term?’

‘Absolutely. Can’t you tell I’m a pro?’ He grinned at her but she was still feeling awkward so she didn’t smile back.

Miles positioned the barrel of the bolt against the oak of the five-bar gate and drilled through the screw holes. ‘Hold it for me a sec.’

Bex did as she was told, not looking at Miles as she did it and making sure their hands didn’t touch again as he got a screwdriver out of his pocket and began to get the screws in. Once the first couple of fixings were in place he managed on his own, with Bex handing him the remaining screws one by one. Five minutes later the job was finished.

Miles slid the bolt across. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Job done.’

‘You’re a star,’ said Bex. ‘Hopefully it’ll stop the little monkey from escaping again and dropping me in the shit with the locals. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘I’d say I’d buy you a drink to say thank you properly, but what with running the pub and everything, I don’t suppose you’ve got the time.’

‘Funnily enough, Belinda and I have decided that we need help in the kitchen.’

‘She hasn’t mentioned it to me – although,’ added Bex quickly, ‘it’s none of my business.’

‘Dunno – you’re part of the team but we’ve only recently found someone so maybe Belinda was going to tell you tomorrow. And, assuming this guy can be trusted to make bacon butties unsupervised, I may have more free time but I’m not sure I want to spend it in the pub.’

‘Indeed.’ So that was her hand-of-friendship rebuffed.

*

Amy cleared away the supper things before she headed up the main road towards Olivia’s house. As she walked she couldn’t help wondering if Olivia had already spread the word about the gin incident or if she would slam the door in her cleaner’s face. She was going to find out the latter soon enough, she thought as she crunched over the gravel and rang the doorbell.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Olivia, when she opened the door.

‘I’ve come to apologise,’ said Amy.

‘Have you?’

‘Yes, I was bang out of order and you had every right to be mad at me.’ She looked her employer in the eye and waited for the ‘too-little-too-late’ comment, or for the door, as she expected, to be slammed in her face.

‘You’d better come in.’

Surprised, Amy stepped inside.

‘Thank you for apologising,’ said Olivia. ‘It’s decent of you.’

Amy felt even more gobsmacked. ‘Hardly, I was the one swigging your gin.’

‘Even so.’ Olivia walked over to the kitchen and picked up something. She came back and handed some notes to Amy. ‘I owe you this.’

‘No, no you shouldn’t.’

‘You did the work – well most of it.’

‘That’s not the point.’ But she stuffed the money in her bag anyway. She couldn’t afford not to.

‘I wanted to talk to you, anyway,’ said Olivia.

‘Oh, yeah, what about?’

‘Let’s sit down.’

Amy still felt a little wary as Olivia led her over to the sofa.

‘Right,’ said Olivia, ‘two things. Firstly, I need to know how you knew Zac has a drug habit.’

‘I found them in his room, that time you told me to clean it.’

‘And you didn’t think I ought to know.’

‘I didn’t know what to do, Mrs L. It’s not like it’s something I’ve ever come across before and it weren’t any of my business, and you’d gone out and then, if I’m honest, it slipped my mind.’

‘Did it.’ Olivia sighed. ‘Never mind, water under the bridge, and I know now.’

‘I know you do.’

Olivia looked at her with raised eyebrows.

‘Zac and my Ash had a fight. Zac accused Ash of blabbing to me about it cos Zac told Ash a while ago apparently.’

Silence descended.

‘And the other thing?’ prompted Amy. She didn’t feel comfortable sitting here with her employer. It was one thing kicking back on the sofa when Olivia wasn’t around – that was a bit of devilry – but now she was being treated almost like a guest, Amy felt quite awkward and wanted to get home, back to her comfort zone.

‘Oh, yes. The thing is – and this has nothing to do with the gin – but I might have to let you go.’

‘Let me go?’ Nothing to do with the gin? Like buggery it didn’t.

‘It’s not the sack, honest,’ Olivia insisted. ‘The fact is, we’re going to have to move.’

‘Move?’ Gawd, she was like a parrot.

‘Yes, we’re downsizing – possibly to Beeching Rise.’

‘Bee—’ Amy stopped herself. ‘Mum said she’d seen you down there.’

‘Yes. The fact is we need to live somewhere smaller – we don’t need a big place like this any more and... well... we need to make some economies.’

‘Oh.’ Amy longed to ask about the whys and wherefores as she was consumed by curiosity but even she didn’t have the nerve. ‘When?’

‘I’d like to keep you on while the house is being sold – to keep it looking pristine.’

‘Oh.’ It was a crust she was getting thrown, she supposed, and not one she could afford to refuse. ‘OK.’

‘I’ll give you a good reference.’

Which, under the circumstances, was more than she should expect.

‘And,’ said Olivia, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the new people wouldn’t want a cleaner and I’d be sure to recommend you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘But I’d rather you didn’t mention this to anyone.’

‘What – that you can’t afford this place?’

‘Something like that.’

‘As if, Mrs L. The soul of discretion, me.’

Olivia gazed at her. ‘I know.’

*

Olivia leaned against the doorjamb after she’d let Amy out and wondered how she’d kept a straight face. Soul of discretion. Talk about delusional. And, dear Lord, she needed a laugh given how her day had panned out. She checked her watch; half past six and no sign of Zac. She sighed and went over to the kitchen counter and picked up her mobile. She pressed the buttons to call him. No reply. She tried again – this time it was straight to voicemail.

‘Zac, we need to talk. I want to help you. I know I was cross – it was the shock. Please come home.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I know I said some harsh things but I didn’t mean them. I do mean this, though... I love you, Zac.’

*

Zac sat in the park, hunched under one of the ramps, his chin resting on his knees, and thought about his situation. He wondered why he did drugs – it certainly didn’t impress his friends. The idea that drugs were what the cool kids did was a total lie; Megan had called him a twat, he’d fallen out with Ashley, his mother was disgusted by him and Dan the dealer was a nasty piece of work who scared the shit out of him. If he thought his dad was a loser then he needed to think again. He was far worse – he’d stolen from his mum, he was about to crash his end of year exams, no one liked him... He wallowed in self-pity and misery as he thought about how he’d screwed up his life.

His phone rang. Mum. He killed the call and switched his phone off. He couldn’t talk to her, not right now. He was too ashamed of what he’d done. Megan was right; he had to sort himself out but he didn’t have a clue how. Maybe there was something on Google.

He switched his phone on again. The green light telling him had a voicemail flashed. He hit the icon and listened to the message.

‘Zac, we need to talk. I want to help you. I know I was cross – it was the shock. Please come home. I know I said some harsh things but I didn’t mean them. I do mean this, though... I love you, Zac.’

Zac burst into tears.

*

Olivia was sitting on the sofa, oblivious to the late evening May sunshine streaming through the big windows of her house. Where had she gone wrong? she wondered. How had she missed the signs? What was the way forward? Round and round went the questions in the head. Along with the big question – did she tell Nigel? She knew she ought to but he’d get so angry, he would shout at Zac so much that there was every danger Zac might light out and do something totally stupid. She had to keep Zac onside; if she could keep him close then maybe she could help him turn things round. Rows and recriminations weren’t the way forwards.

Feeling bone-weary with worry, Olivia got to her feet and went over to the computer on the desk in the corner. She switched it on, then went to pour a glass of wine while it sorted itself out. She entered the password then clicked the Google icon. How do you get off drugs? she typed. A surprising number of sites scrolled onto the screen. Methodically she clicked on each one and began to read what was said.

She was alerted to Nigel’s arrival home by his key in the lock. Guiltily she killed the page and shut down Google.

‘Hello, how was your day?’ she asked with a fake smile on her face.

‘Knackering,’ said Nigel. ‘The commute was a nightmare and the boss wanted six impossible things done by lunch.’ He dropped his laptop case on to the sofa. ‘Good, you’ve got the wine open. Pour me a glass while I get changed. Did you have a good day?’ he asked as he headed for the stairs.

‘Oh – you know – the usual.’

She switched off the computer and went into the kitchen to sort out Nigel’s wine and supper for everyone, although she wasn’t the least bit sure if Zac was going to come home to eat it. And if he didn’t, when did she tell Nigel the whole truth? Or call the police for that matter?

She was about to dish up a paella when Zac slunk in through the front door, still in his school uniform. Their eyes met and she gave him a half-smile. In return he looked totally shamefaced.

‘Hurry up and change, darling,’ she said breezily.

Zac flicked a glance at his father, lounging on the sofa, sipping his wine and watching some programme about buying houses and then looked questioningly at his mother. She gave him a tiny shake of his head and was rewarded with a look of sheer gratitude.

The meal was eaten in near silence and afterwards Zac shot back upstairs, muttering about his homework. Olivia cleared away, topped up her husband’s glass and then followed her son.

She knocked on the door, surprised that she couldn’t hear any music.

‘We need to talk,’ she said quietly when it was opened.

Zac nodded.

Oliva shut the door behind herself. ‘So?’ she said.

Zac sat on the bed and put his head in his hands.

‘Zac, this is a mess, isn’t it?’

He looked up at her and nodded.

‘I’ve been doing some reading up,’ said Olivia. ‘We can sort this out but you’ve got to want to.’

Zac nodded again.

‘Do you?’

‘Yeah. I’m so fucked up, I’ve got to.’

Olivia sat next to her son and put her arms around him. ‘We can do this, we can do this together. It’s not the end of the world but you have to promise me that you’ll give it your best shot. And I have a plan.’