MIDNIGHT - HarperCollins NZ

MIDNIGHT
equally quick to realise that the younger, pretty woman
was not best pleased to see him there. Well, sod her,
he thought, and sod anybody else who didn’t take to
him. He had a living to earn just like other folks, and
he would earn it in any way he could, good or bad.
Addressing Eileen, he asked, ‘This your daughter, is
it? Not too keen to see me, is she, eh?’
‘Ignore her, Ian.’ Affording Libby a scowl, Eileen
smiled up at the man. ‘She always was a difficult child!
As you know.’
The man gave a curt nod of the head. His name was
not Ian Harrow but Peter Scott, a bully-boy and layabout.
Having spent the night with the crazy old bat,
all he wanted was his payment.
Looking him up and down, Eileen struggled to
remember. ‘I’m so glad you came to see us. You
mustn’t go just yet, though. Oh dear, it’s been such
a long time since you were last here. Please, won’t
you stay for a cup of tea?’ Unable to remember him,
she grew agitated. ‘Oh, and a slice of toast and marmalade,
eh?’
‘What?’ He saw his opportunity. ‘I’m not ’ere for
bloody marmalade!’
‘Oh, well, some bacon and eggs, then.’ The flustered
woman turned to her daughter. ‘We do have eggs and
bacon, don’t we?’
‘Sorry, Mother,’ Libby lied, hoping he might leave
without any further fuss. ‘I didn’t have time to do a
shop yesterday.’ This was an awkward situation; one of
many over these past difficult years.
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