Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection

It was eight-thirty when the family started arriving.

Thomas was the first, along with his wife. Tall and willowy, with bobbed black hair and dark eyes, Sheila was a stunning beauty, even at the age of forty. Married these sixteen years, she and Thomas lived close by, in a fine house they had designed themselves.

Unbeknownst to Thomas, who adored the ground she walked on, Sheila had indulged in several affairs, all of them brief and sordid. When the novelty wore off and the fun was over, she would pay off her sexual partners with a wad of money to keep their silence.

‘Vicky, how are you?’ Kissing her mother-in-law on the cheek, Sheila made a show of affection. ‘You’re looking wonderful as always.’ She observed Vicky’s long red dress and that ever-slim figure, and though Vicky was far older than her, with her best years behind her, she could not suppress a vicious surge of envy.

‘Thank you, Sheila, I do the best with what I’ve got.’ Vicky was always pleasant and friendly, but she had no illusions where her daughter-in-law was concerned. She had long entertained suspicions about the woman’s fidelity, but that’s all they were … suspicions. She so much wanted to believe that Thomas and his wife were truly happy together. Certainly Thomas was, and for that she must be grateful.

It had been a bitter disappointment that there were no grandchildren on the scene. It was probably too late for Thomas and Sheila, but there was still Ronnie; and though Susie was edging past the child-bearing years, there was time enough for her to become a mother. Having devoted all her time and effort to her business, Susie had yet to find the man she loved, but God willing, he was out there somewhere.

Like a caged cat looking for an escape route, Sheila glanced about the room, her eyes alighting on Leonard. ‘Oh, there you are, Lenny,’ she gushed. ‘And how are you?’

Leonard got out of his chair to kiss her fleetingly on the cheek. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Sheila.’

She traversed her gaze around the room. ‘No Ronnie then?’

‘Not yet, no.’ Vicky showed no concern. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.’

‘Really?’ Sheila’s sly grin made Vicky clench her fists. ‘You know very well he won’t turn up,’ she gloated. ‘He never does.’

Thomas stepped in. ‘Sheila! That’s a hurtful thing to say.’

‘Maybe, but it’s true. He doesn’t give a damn about anybody but himself, least of all his family.’

‘Enough said!’ Stepping forward, Vicky thrust a tea-towel into her hands. ‘The roast potatoes need taking out of the oven. Would you mind, please?’

The two women stood eyeball to eyeball, the older one smiling calmly and the younger one silently seething, but she knew better than to show her resentment. ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘But I’m surprised you’re so behind with the cooking, Vicky, honey. Normally you have the food all ready for serving.’

Turning on her heels she went away grumbling. ‘I guess it don’t matter that I’ve just painted my nails, and if the grease spills down my new expensive jacket, who is there to care?’

Vicky knew her daughter-in-law was goading her, but she did not retaliate. She had more important things on her mind than exchanging verbal blows with the spiteful Sheila. What she really wanted was for Ronnie to show his face. But she was not fooling herself. Sheila was right; he probably would not turn up, more’s the pity.

A striking figure in a blue pencil skirt with matching bolero and cream-coloured blouse, Susie climbed the three flights of stairs to her brother’s apartment in the heart of Boston. As she climbed, she kept a wary eye about her. This was not the best of neighbourhoods.

Yet again the elevator was out of order, and on the stairs that wound up the outside of the building, a lone visitor was a prime target for the hopeless bums who frequented this area.

‘Ronnie Davidson, you’re a hopeless bugger!’ she muttered as she traipsed upwards. ‘Hiding in your room skulking – I’m fed up with it! You live in a slum, you think the world’s against you, and you abandon your family at the drop of a hat. I won’t have it, d’you hear? You’re still my brother and God help me, I care about you … we all do.’

Tripping over an empty box flung across her path, she kicked it aside. ‘You can moan and grumble all you like, but I don’t intend to let you waste your life like this!’

Holding onto the handrail she followed the row of doors; damaged doors with broken windows, doors without any windows at all; doors that were kicked in and hanging on their hinges – and when she reached the door that had the name RONNIE painted on it in big, clumsy letters, she stopped, took a deep breath and knocked. ‘Ronnie! It’s me, Susie. Open up.’

After a few more determined knocks and a series of loud shouts through the letter-box, the door slowly inched open, to reveal Ronnie’s unshaven face. ‘I thought I told you never to come here,’ he said in a surly voice. ‘It’s not safe for a woman on her own.’

Susie pushed past him into the sitting room. ‘You know what they say: if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed and all that?’

He glared at her. ‘What d’you want, sis?’

‘What do you think I want?’

‘I won’t know if you don’t tell me.’ Scratching his head, he sauntered across the room. ‘Banging on the door, yelling through the letter-box like a crazy woman!’

Ignoring his rantings, Susie instructed him to get dressed.

‘I am dressed!’

Shaking her head, she regarded his appearance: the shirt-tail hanging out, the crumpled trousers and the hair standing on end. ‘I’m not taking you out to the spread looking like that,’ she said. ‘You’ve got ten minutes,’ she warned. ‘I want you washed and dressed and fit to sit at the table with ordinary human beings.’

‘I’m not going to Mom’s house.’

‘You are!’

‘No, I’m not. And there’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind.’

‘All right then.’ Hands on hips she gave it her best shot. ‘What if I was to say that if you don’t come with me now, I will never visit you again? I’ll forget I ever had a brother called Ronnie, and when you need me – which you frequently do – I’ll refuse to see you. I’ll cut you out of my life and leave you to sulk and hide and feel sorry for yourself, and when they drag your worthless body out of here, with your clothes stuck to your back, your teeth all rotten and your hair all gone, I’ll look the other way and make out I don’t even know you. Now then, what d’you say to that?’

Ronnie burst out laughing. ‘You’re a lunatic!’ But he loved her. When he didn’t want his mother to know how deep he had sunk, and Thomas was driven to distraction, it was always Susie he turned to, always Susie who would sit for hours and listen to his sorry tale, and never judge or condemn. She simply came to his rescue, without question or reprimand. But not today. Today it seemed he had overstepped the mark with her.

Susie cocked a thumb towards the bathroom. ‘I assume you have soap and water?’

‘Somewhere, I suppose.’

‘Then go wash!’

Ronnie was still laughing at her previous remark. ‘I think I’d better,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to end up being dragged out of here with my clothes glued to my back … no teeth, no hair … whatever would the neighbours say?’ Then: ‘You’d make a good horror-writer, sis. I have to say, you certainly paint a gruesome picture.’

Still chuckling, he made his way to the bathroom, where he ran the tap and stripped off, with the intention of making himself respectable.

While he was splashing and scrubbing, Susie’s voice sailed in from the other room. ‘This place is a disgrace! The holes in the carpet, if you can call it that, are filled with cigarette butts, the springs in the sofa are poking through, and the curtains are hanging by a thread.’ There was a pause while she ran the tip of her finger along the window-sill. ‘Dust an inch thick everywhere. Dirty socks in the corner. The place stinks to high heaven. How in God’s name can you live in a dump like this?’

While she went about the room tidying everything away, Ronnie mimicked her in the bedroom, where he was sorting a decent pair of trousers from the pile on the bed. ‘The place stinks … dirty socks, raggedy curtains, holes in the carpet.’ He chuckled, ‘I should think myself lucky to have a carpet – not everybody round here has that luxury.’

A moment later he burst out of the bedroom. ‘Right then, kiddo, do I look human enough?’ He made a handsome figure; tall and slim, with his thick mop of fair hair brushed back from his face, which was now shining clean and free of whiskers.

Susie approved of the new Ronnie. ‘Where did you get the trousers from?’

‘I’ve had them for ages, why?’

‘They’re too big.’ Susie observed how the belt was too long to fit the buckle-prong into the holes, so it was wrapped round and round, with the tail end tucked into the pocket of his trousers.

‘I’ve lost weight.’ Thrusting his hands into the pockets, Ronnie looked set for a confrontation. ‘So now you’re about to have a go at me for that, are you? No doubt you’d rather have me fat and flabby with drooping jowls and a huge belly hanging over my belt.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly!’

‘You’re right, I am silly. Silly to think that somewhere in that hard heart of yours, you might find a snippet of praise for the effort I’ve made.’

‘Is that the only belt you’ve got?’