Page 152 of The Man Upstairs

“She was under a serious pinky promise. Believe me. She’s been desperate to see your reaction. Give her a huge hug from me when she does.”

“I will do, don’t worry about that. She’s made me look like a dream.”

“Because you are, sweetheart.”

The question now was whether the world would get to see it, but only time would tell. Time and the sense of morality I thought I’d cast aside into the trash, beyond all redemption, but no. It seemed I still had some left.

The publishing of this novel would also come down to a woman called Beverly.

I was feeling the nerves already, but tried not to show it, grinning proudly at Rosie when she walked into the kitchen, dressed for college.

“It’s gonna be warm today. Think I can get away with this look?”

Her shirt was completely undone. The word SLUT scrawled across her stomach.

“This is why I love you so much,” I said, shaking my head at her.

“Gonna spank me for being naughty?” She put her hands on her hips, just as soon as she’d pushed her glasses up her nose.

I hugged my angel instead. And then I buttoned up her shirt.

“Thanks,” she said and kissed me.

I doubted Rosie would have forced herself into college if she didn’t have exams looming, just mere days away. And of course, she was excited to see Lola.

One last hug before she slung her backpack over her shoulder and set off for the day.

And then it was just me. Waiting. Nothing new to write. Just me and my thoughts.Waiting.

Nine a.m. turned to ten a.m., and my nerves increased.Waiting.Ten turned to eleven, and my nerves were growing more jagged. I found I was pacing between cigarettes, hope fading fast. Until I heard the tap of knuckles from outside.

I thought I’d prepared myself to answer the door, responses ready for whatever reaction awaited me, but they all faded to nothing when I came face to face with Beverly in the flesh, standing there before me with the printed pages gripped in her hands.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said and stepped aside.

Her eyes roved around the place.

“I didn’t expect it to be like this in here. Looks like a palace.”

“Thank you. I’ve tried my best. Your daughter was quite an asset on that score, she has a great sense of style.”

“Yeah, she does. Just a shame she never got a chance to express it with me. We’ve always been too skint.”

She looked down at the papers in her hands, and I became nervous again, blustering out an offer of a drink as I slipped past her on my way to the kitchen, but she took hold of my wrist as I went, meeting me with piercing eyes, exactly the same light blue as her daughter’s.

“Is this true? Is this how you really feel?”

I looked down atchapter onein her hands.

“Yes, it is. It’s exactly how I feel.” I dared to smile. “I hope you can tell that from my words.”

My pulse thumped with relief as Beverly smiled back. “I love how you put in the hand thing she does when she’s laughing. Hardly anyone sees that. And you know what? I’ve offered to get her glasses frames tightened a thousand times at the opticians, but she never wants to. It’s a habit now, pushing them up her nose. It makes her her.”

“Yes, it does. It’s adorable.”

“Yeah, it is.” She let go of my wrist. “I’ll have a coffee, please. One sugar.”