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He looked up and down the street as if waiting for his gran’s return, then relented and got back into the car.

He sniffled but said nothing. Without directions, I wouldn’t know where to go.

“Which way?” I asked.

“Do you mind if we sit here a bit longer? You know, see if she comes back.”

“Absolutely. I’ve got nowhere to be.” I turned off the engine and turned to face him.

He shook his head, his jaw and fists clenched. “Fucking hate it at home.”

“I can see that. Is there anywhere else I can take you? Friends? Family?” Surely there was somewhere else he could go.

“There’s no one else.” He shivered, goosebumps appearing on his pale skin. What kind of person would I be if I let him stand around in the rain for God knew how long, and he clearly didn’t like the thought of going home. I could have dropped him at a coffee shop, but he’d still be sitting in his wet clothes, and I knew how uncomfortable that could be.

“Look, you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but I’d be happy to take you back to mine. There’ll be dry clothes and a hot drink.”

He eyed me warily, his eyes narrowed.

“I swear, Frankie, I’m just trying to help out. I’m not a serial killer or anything.” I smiled, trying to make a point, but realised I probably looked like a creep.

“I’ve seen the shows. That’s exactly what a serial killer would say.”

Was that a glimmer of a smile?

“Your decision. I can let you out here if you’d prefer.”

He bit his lip and glanced once more up and down the street, but there was no one in sight. “Okay, if you don’t mind. I could really do with getting out of these wet jeans.”

I put the car in gear and headed home. Whatever he had going on, I’d try to be a friend to him. Something told me he didn’t have many. I could have been wrong, though. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last.

The rain cleared as I neared home, the sun finally breaking through the dark clouds, brightening the sky.

He said nothing the entire journey, gazing through the window as we headed out of town and into the countryside. I loved living here.

I’d got the house for a peppercorn rent. A friend of a friend of a friend had moved abroad and was looking for someone to take care of it while they were away. I wasn’t complaining. Waking up to the sound of birdsong and cows mooing was just what I needed to set me up for the day. It soothed my soul. I just hoped it would calm Frankie’s too.

CHAPTER TWO

FRANKIE

Iknew Mum would have something to say when she saw Logan. She always did. In her eyes, it’d be my fault. It always was. Her little prince could do nothing wrong, but I knew better.

I got the blame for everything that little toerag did. He’d smile at her like butter wouldn’t melt, and then the blame would fall squarely on me. Didn’t matter if I wasn’t around; I still got the blame, and I was sick of it.

I loved Logan, I really did, but I didn’t love the way he never owned up to what he’d done. At first, it wasn’t too bad, but as the years went on and I got older, it wasn’t just Mum’s annoyance I had to contend with. Brian was handy with his fists and his belt, and I had the marks to prove it. At first, I complained to Mum, but she turned a blind eye, telling me I deserved it.

Why can’t you be good like Logan? she’d ask me.

The only one who ever listened was Gran. She was Dad’s mum. Not that he was around anymore. He’d upped and moved away when I was five or six, leaving me and Mum to live with Gran. There’d been a procession of men after Dad. Some were all right, others downright shitty, but I’d always had Gran on my side to look after me when Mum was out gallivanting.

Then Gran got sick, and dickhead came along, promising Mum the Earth. She believed him, and I swear, if Gran had been well enough, I’d have stayed with her, but I was eleven going on twelve and had just started high school.

A place I loathed more than my home.

But what the fuck was I doing in this car with a man I barely knew? I’d heard horror stories of abduction and assault, but something in my gut told me to trust him. He was good with Logan, and he came to look for me when Mum arrived. He didn’t need to do that. He was the first person to show me any kindness in ages. Yes, I had Gran, but she had to be nice to me. I was her only grandson, the only one of her bloods, she’d tell me. She treated Logan like a grandson, but I got the handouts, the crafty tenner here and there when no one was looking.

I was saving them for a rainy day. A day when I could afford to move out and tell Mum and Brian to do one. The only problem was that I didn’t have a bank account, so I’d stashed the money in one of my trainers tucked at the back of the wardrobe. No one looked there. Mum said it smelt like a zoo, but if it kept her away, then I’d take that.