We'll leave under darkness, when anyone watching thinks I'm all tucked up for the evening.
I'll organise a hire car and get it delivered before midnight, and we'll take off for somewhere far away. Anywhere.
Maybe the coast. Brutus will like it there. So would Joseph, I'm sure.
Brutus wags his tail as I step on in. I bolt the doors up tight and get to work.
I sort through my paperwork and take the few pieces of documentation I need.
I pack my photos and the few of my gemstones that made it through my rage unscathed.
I choose my favourite suits from the sea of black in my wardrobe, and contemplate whether I'll still be wearing them in a few months' time.
Choosing the things from my boys' old bedrooms takes the longest. It's a ladder into the loft job, rooting through boxes I'd packed in a hurry. Some finger paintings, and their first teddy bears and Matthew's reward chart that I pulled down from the kitchen door.
Two cases is all I need. My whole life packed in two cases.
The second of them is mainly filled with the contents of my safe.
My father tries to call at seven a.m. and again at eight and nine on the dot.
He leaves a voicemail at eleven, but I don't listen.
It's when I get a text from an unknown number that I know the rumour mill has started.
Ronald bastard Robertson.
I wish I could give him the scoop before I go. One last confession of my father's seedy business for his tabloid.
He attempts to call me at lunchtime. Pings an email to my work address asking for a puppet master exclusive.
I ignore that, too.
There are only two things I have left to do.
Order a hire car, and wait for Melissa.
I get to work ordering the hire car.
Melissa
"We're really gonna do this?" Dean asks and I nod.
"We're really doing this."
He helps me with Joe's things, packing them into one of Mum and Dad's old suitcases as Joe tries to pull them back out again. It's a slow process but a happy one.
Dean hardly has anything for himself. One single rucksack stuffed with clothes and his phone charger.
I hardly take any care with mine, just throw in the clothes fit for purpose and my crystals along with them. It's when I get to my parents' room that things become a bit harder.
Photos and memories. Too many to pack.
But I guess I can send for them when we're settled.
Months, Alexander said.
"You're sure he's down with me coming?" Dean asks and I nod.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"And things won't be … weird?"
"Not if we don't let them be. Fresh start, right? This place is so full of memories. Good and bad."
"A fresh start sounds real good." he says. "For all of us."
Yes, it does.
The cash is the last thing I pack, wedges of notes that I was waiting to deposit into Joseph's account when I got the chance.
It feels weird to pile it in amongst my clothes.
I'll give it back to Alexander. He can take care of it, for Joe.
I hope he can take care of all of us.
I hope he lets me take care of him right back.
Our things are piled up in the hallway when I call a cab. We're out of breath when we've lugged it downstairs, but I fasten Joe in with a smile.
"Wave goodbye to our old house," I say and he does. He waves b-bye.
"This is it then?" Dean asks as the car pulls away.
"This is really it," I say.
Alexander
My heart thumps when their cab pulls up outside the house.
I tell Brutus to behave. Tell him to sit fucking down and be nice for once.
I unbolt the front door with a smile, bounding out without thinking to help them inside with their cases, and a tap on my fucking shoulder nearly gives me a fucking heart attack.
Ronald fucking Robertson outside my fucking house.
His gormless photographer snaps a shot of us with the cases and I nearly knock his front teeth out.
I send Melissa on in with Joe and wait till the boy is out of earshot.
"Don't you even fucking dare think of printing that," I say.
Ronald shrugs. "I think we can keep it out of the final draft if you'll give me a few words about what's going down? Family feud, right? Is it true you're gonna expose your father's gangland clients?"
"Like fucking hell it is," I say. "Not that it's any of your fucking business."
He holds up his hands. "Just saying what I heard, Henley, that's all. Can't believe you're getting a fucking conscience at your old age." He laughs. I hate his fucking laugh. He gestures to my front door as Dean lugs the last of the cases inside. "That pretty little thing got anything to do with it?"
"That pretty little thing is none of your fucking business, either."
I leave him at my gate where he belongs.
"Give me a scoop!" he shouts. "Your side of the story!"
"I have no fucking side of any story," I say. "I'm fucking done!"
I close the door behind me, and close the fucking curtains so the cunt can't see inside.
Melissa
It's so nice to be back in Alexander's house.
It's so nice to wander around the rooms and smell his bedsheets for one last time.
They won't be his bedsheets in the new place, they'll be ours. The thought makes me giddy.
I show Dean around the place I've come to know so well, and he knows we're just killing time, chasing away the nerves that are thrumming from Alexander even though he tries to hide them, but we play along anyway.
Even Brutus is a good boy as we introduce him to Joe. He doesn't even snarl at Dean either.
It's like he knows.
Dogs know their own people, just as I said to Alexander, and Brutus knows us. He knows we're all bound together, destined for pastures new. I can tell by the way he sniffs the cases, his tail thumping at the leash draped over the top, just waiting to go.
"Are you sure we can trust the guy?" Dean asks as Alexander lets Brutus out into the garden.
"I'd trust him with my life," I say, and I would. I'd trust him with anything, even Joseph's.
"Alright," he says. "This is some crazy ride."
It is, and I know it's about to get even crazier. Good crazy.
Just as soon as we've left the city behind.
"The hire car arrives at ten," Alexander tells us when he heads back in. "We should be safe to go then. We'll have to be quick."
I nod. "We will be. We'll make light work of it, the three of us."
He paces as the evening draws in. He smiles but I know he's edgy.
I settle Joseph down on the plush cream sofa, and try to settle down with him, even though my nerves are on fire.
Dean talks about everything, waffling on about inane crap to keep us all from fizzing over. His jittery fingers are the only tell that he's not as calm as he makes out.
But that's okay.
He's doing a great job.
Alexander sighs with relief when the knock comes at ten to ten.
He tells me to hold Brutus back while he takes the keys from the driver and I do. I leave Dean with Joe in the living room and take tight hold of Brutus in the kitchen. I crouch to the floor along with him and hope he doesn't drag me right out of there.
"Be a good boy," I say. "Please, Brutus, don't be a dick."
But he is a dick.
I feel it in every fibre of him when Alexander heads to the front door.
His snarl is vicious and his muscles are wound up tight, much tighter than I've ever seen him.
Alexander looks back at me as he slides the bolts open. "Keep hold of him," he says, and I nod.
And I do. Even though it's hard. Even though he's pulling like a truck and I have to dig my heels into the floor to stop him tearing his way down the hallway. Even though he's so savage he shows every single one of his teeth.
"Calm down!" I hiss but he doesn't listen. "Brutus, please," I say, but he doesn't want to know.
He lurches forward and I shunt along with him, and I have to tug him back with all my strength as Alexander pulls the door open.
I'm still tugging him back when the bang sounds.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Alexander
I should have known it.
I trust Brutus easily as much as I trust myself.
I should have known it wasn't mindless savagery that sent him fucking livid as I went for that door.
And I should have known my father would never just chance me disappearing into the night.
There's no hire car outside when I open the door, just a man in black with his hood pulled down low.
It's not like Hollywood when I see the gun in his hands. There's no heated showdown where he tells me how much my father wants me dead, or passes on some cryptic message.
There's just a bang. A bang and a flash.
It feels like a punch. A punch right in my gut.
Only it makes my ears ring.
And everything slows down, just like it did when that cricket ball smashed my temple at twelve years old.
The whole world slows down.
I think I stumble before I fall. It feels like that.
Melissa's scream is so far away, and I wish I had the breath to tell her to stay back, but I don't.
I notice the tiny things in those slow seconds.
The shock on the gunman's face as my shirt pools with blood. The widening of his eyes as he looks past me into the hallway, his gun still smoking as Brutus charges him down.
I'm waiting for a second shot that doesn't come.
It can't.
Because Brutus is a savage beast when he needs to be.