"I hope Dad's okay," Richard mused, as he stood next to Wendy watching Anita push Amy and Abigail on the roundabout. It didn't seem five minutes since they were at the park - in fact, it was about five minutes. He knew they had a home somewhere; they just never seemed to get to it. He had an image in his mind: a large, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and foxgloves growing wild in the front garden. Glancing round at the sea of plastic that faced him wherever he turned, the image suddenly seemed unlikely, but that was his house, he was certain of it.Wendy put a comforting hand on his arm. "I know. I think he's going... you know."
"To be murdered?"
"No! I was going to say going a bit ga-ga."
Richard sighed. "Maybe it was just my imagination. I know Mum's as mad as a gatepost, but surely even she wouldn't murder her own husband!" He rolled his eyes as if to ridicule his own ridiculous delusions. "Oh, and - talking of attempted murder - Brandon looked well, didn't he?"
"Richard, do you think we could ask him to come home now?" Wendy burst out. "It's been so long. I miss him!"
"Do you?" Richard said, surprised.
"The way he used to scowl at me if I happened to meet him on the landing. The death threat posters on his bedroom door." Wendy smiled fondly. "And the booby traps in his underwear drawer." She glanced at her hands. "All I have left are the scars."
Richard looked at her disbelievingly. Wendy was now close to tears.
"And the way he set fire to the girls' bedroom...!" she sobbed, suddenly losing control completely.
Richard grabbed her by the shoulders. "Doesn't that tell you something? Wendy? He set fire to their room! He was trying to kill them!"
"He was only trying to keep them warm! The radiator needed bleeding!"
Richard very rarely raised his voice in anger against his wife, but this time he did. "There is no way that child is coming back to live under what's left of my roof!"
"You're just jealous because he can play tennis better than you!" burst out Wendy. She clapped her hand to her mouth.
"What?"
"He... I... no, it's nothing. Forget it! Forget all about it!"
Wendy ran from the park, still clutching her mouth as though she could claw the words back inside it. Her mind flashed back to the Holiday Inn Express and Gordon - she'd insisted he wear his tennis kit and sweatband throughout. Could Richard have guessed her secret? Did that explain his irrational hatred of Brandon? And why had she mentioned tennis? Why, why? If Richard ever played a set against Brandon it would be obvious for all to see...
