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  “No, Gina. Someone should have a spare set, in case of emergencies. Listen, I’m only trying to help. Your mum hasn’t been able to face clearing everything out. I suggested that I could make a start; bagging his clothes up to give to charity.”

  Gina couldn’t be placated. “How convenient. You, getting rid of any trace of my dad. Do you think it will make it easier for you to take over his family?”

  Tom looked wounded. “I’d never try to replace your dad. I’m not half the man he was.”

  “Well at least you’ve got that right.”

  “Why are you determined to battle against me? Your mum and Danny don’t have a problem with me. They like having me around.”

  She put her hands on her hips, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why are you always here? Do you fancy my mum?”

  Tom shook his head disapprovingly. “What kind of question is that?”

  “She’s hardly your type, is she?”

  “I didn’t think that I had a type,” he replied.

  Gina laughed derisively. “Come off it. You’ve been out with so many boob-job blondes half your age that I bet you couldn’t tell them apart.”

  “Okay.” Tom nodded. “I’ll put my hands up for being attracted to a certain type of woman, once upon a time. But I’ve changed, Gina. I’ve grown up. I don’t expect you to understand. I’m middle-aged and my friend is dead – it’s made me realize what’s important in life…who is important in life. Your mum is a wonderful woman and I think the world of her, but all I’m trying to do is to look after you all. It’s what your dad would have wanted.”

  Gina scrutinized his face.

  He seems so sincere. So bloody sincere!

  “But…” she began. Tom held his hand up to silence her.

  “But nothing, Gina. You need to show a little more respect. I thought we’d come to an understanding after the other day. Have you bought something nice for your mum yet, with the money I gave you?” His tone was accusatory.

  Gina bit her lip, seething. “Give me my dad’s jacket…please!”

  He took it off and held it out. She grabbed hold of it, but Tom didn’t let go; instead he pulled it towards him. His bowed face was only inches from hers. The intensity of his gaze made Gina’s skin prickle.

  “You look so like him, Gina,” he said in a hushed tone. “It’s not just the eyes and the lips. It’s the little things, like the way you stick your chin out when you’re annoyed. You know that, because of you, Marty will never be completely gone.”

  Gina ripped the jacket out of his hands and held it tightly to her like a comfort blanket.

  “You need to go now,” she said, fighting the tremor in her voice.

  “Okay,” he said, heading for the door. “I understand how upsetting this is, but remember, no matter how much you try to push me away, I’ll always be here for you.”

  Gina sat on her bed, tightening the laces on her trainers. She needed to get out and clear her head. She just kept thinking about the numbers on that piece of paper. She was so frustrated that nothing had happened on the day and was desperate to find out what Tom was up to.

  She looked over at her bedroom wall. Her eyes fell on the photo of her dad at one of the Running Club presentations. In it, she was holding up a medal. He had his arm around her proudly. He looked so smart in his best jacket. The one she’d found Tom wearing. She shuddered at the thought of how weird Tom had been with her.

  She’d told her mum about it, asked angrily, “Why was he clearing out my dad’s things? Don’t you think you should have mentioned it to us?”

  Her mum had been upset, apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Gina. Of course I would have discussed it with you but I didn’t know. Tom had mentioned it and I’d vaguely agreed that it had to be done at some point, but then he just went and got on with it.”

  “Well, I hope you’re going to tell him that he’s out of order.”

  “I can’t do that. He was only trying to help. We just got our wires crossed.”

  “And why has he got our house keys? You’ve got to get them back off him.”

  Her mum had been flustered. “I can’t ask for them back, Tom wouldn’t be happy. He thought he should have a set, in case of emergencies. It seemed like a good idea.”

  “But that means he can let himself into our house whenever he wants!”

  She’d sounded exasperated. “Of course he won’t. This is your Uncle Tom. Stop talking about him like he’s a stranger.”

  Now Gina blew a kiss at her wall of photos and ran to Hanover Street. She knocked on the door, trying not to breathe in the pungent aroma from Mrs. Mac’s bizarre floral display in the window boxes.

  The crinkled old lady opened the door. “Hello.” She smiled. “What can I do for you?”

  “Hi, Mrs. McManus? Is Declan home? I’m his friend, Gina.”

  It was as if the Pope had just appeared on the doorstep.

  “Bridie!” Mrs. Mac called. “Come on to the door. Gina’s here.”

  “Gina?” a puzzled voice said. A diminutive figure shuffled to the door. “Holy mother of God – isn’t she the girl that Declan is courting?” Bridie ferreted around in her cavernous handbag and found her glasses. Putting the milk-bottle lenses on, she inspected Gina with her enormous eyes.

  “Well, your hair is too short but you’re an angel nonetheless,” Bridie trilled. “No wonder Declan’s dropped all his friends to spend time with you.”

  “Has he?” Gina said in surprise. “I wondered why he’d never introduced me to any of them.”

  “Well, I’ve warned him,” Mrs. Mac said. “He shouldn’t go dropping his friends just because some girl has caught his eye. You never know how long these romances are going to last.”

  “But I’m not his girlfriend,” Gina said coyly. “We’re just good friends.”

  “What?” Bridie said, outraged. “Well what’s wrong with you, girl? Isn’t our Declan good enough for you? I tell you, if I was forty years younger I’d court that young man myself.”

  “Oh Bridie, that would still make you a child snatcher,” Mrs. Mac tutted. “Now leave the poor girl alone. To be honest, Gina, darling, it’s a relief to hear that you and Declan aren’t courting. I was starting to get a bit worried. You know where these things can lead and, in the absence of his parents, I’m in charge of his mortal soul. It’s a great responsibility,” she said solemnly.

  Bridie cackled. Mrs. Mac scowled at her friend. “I’m glad you find it so amusing, Bridie. Thank God the poor boy hasn’t got you as his moral guardian. Now, Gina, I’m sorry to tell you that Declan isn’t in. He left about half an hour ago. I just assumed he’d be with you.”

  “Oh,” Gina said, disappointed. “Well, I’ll get going then. It’s been lovely to meet you both.”

  “And you,” Mrs. Mac said.

  “Yes, angel, and if ever you need advice about matters of the heart, I’ll be glad to help,” Bridie piped up. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

  “Or done!” Mrs. Mac said, her eyes fluttering in disapproval.

  Gina headed for the park, determined to do a few laps even if it wasn’t going to be as much fun without Declan.

  She’d just finished her fourth lap around the perimeter when she spotted a hooded boy on a bench. She peered at the figure. He certainly sat like Declan: one hand on each of his knees, back straight, broad shoulders pulled back.

  I notice far too much about that boy, Gina thought to herself.

  But he had company – a rather unkempt man, who looked like he’d seen life, was sitting on the same bench and Declan seemed to be talking to him.

  Maybe a homeless guy? She smiled. Typical Declan, he chats to everyone.

  She jogged across to him, trying not to appear like a bounding puppy.

  “Hi, Declan, I knew it was you!” she called out as she approached him.

  Declan raised his head and the look of panic on his face was unmistakable.

  “Wow,” Gina said playfully. “What are you up to? You look guilty a
s sin.”

  “Nothing. No. I’m just surprised to see you.” He pulled at his hood nervously.

  “Sorry if I’ve interrupted your chat,” she said politely to the unkempt man.

  “Don’t worry about it, love. I was just catching up with my nephew.”

  “Oh!” Gina couldn’t mask her surprise. “You’re Declan’s uncle?”

  “Yeah. I’m his Uncle Stevie, and you are?”

  “Gina.”

  The man extended a hairy hand. “I’ve heard all about you! He can’t stop talking about you – isn’t that right, Declan?”

  Gina tried to suppress a rush of joy. Declan shot Uncle Stevie a murderous look and the “uncle” put an arm around his “nephew”.

  “Come on now, lad. Don’t be coy. Best to get things out in the open.” One of his bushy eyebrows seemed to wink at Gina. She didn’t know how to respond. “He’s a knock-out kid, isn’t he?” He tapped Dec’s cheek with his fist.

  “Suppose so,” Gina answered, sensing the hostility oozing out of Declan.

  “We’re as thick as thieves. Very close. Declan feels more like a son to me.” The man was clearly enjoying himself, while Declan seemed to be squirming.

  “Really? Why have you never mentioned your uncle, Declan?” she asked.

  Declan shrugged, his eyes cast to the ground. The man answered for him. “Maybe he’s ashamed of me.” He gave a rattling laugh.

  Gina got the impression she was intruding on a private joke, which Declan didn’t find very funny. The palpable tension between the two was now making her feel uncomfortable.

  “Well,” she said, after an awkward silence. “I’d better be off. I’ll see you soon then, Declan?”

  Declan nodded, stony-faced.

  Uncle Stevie gave a crocodile smile that exposed nicotine-stained teeth. “Try keeping him away.”

  The warehouse was a buzz of activity. A ship from West Africa had docked that morning, bringing with it six-metre-long containers full of cocoa beans for Tom’s clients. Declan and his workmates hadn’t stopped all day; supervising the discharge from the quayside and then stacking the sacks onto the warehouse shelves. Here the sacks would remain until lorries arrived to take the beans on the last leg of their mammoth journey: to the chocolate makers around the UK.

  Declan had been enjoying the job so much that sometimes he forgot that the only reason he was there was to keep an eye on Tom Cotter and his activities. In fact, Declan couldn’t believe how great his life was at the moment – if it wasn’t for the inconvenient fact that it was based on lies.

  He wanted the reality to be that he’d just been incredibly lucky – getting a job he enjoyed and meeting a girl he loved being with and, despite his best efforts, couldn’t stop thinking about. Sometimes he thought he saw signs that Gina felt the same way and it was getting harder and harder to hold himself back. He vowed never to go to the cinema with Gina again. It had been torturous sitting next to her in the dark, having to force himself to keep his mind and hands off her.

  Guilt gnawed away at him every time Gina thanked him for being such a good friend, every time her mum invited him to stay for tea with a look of gratitude on her face. Declan knew he was a liar, so he was determined to do the only decent thing he could in the circumstances; he was determined not to show Gina how he really felt about her.

  It had been three weeks since “the date” and Declan was still no wiser about the numbers on that piece of paper. In fact, since the meeting he’d witnessed between the three men, nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened at the warehouse.

  Declan had just stopped for a well-earned tea break when he heard Tom’s voice call down from the heavens.

  “Declan, come over here, will you? Bring a pen and paper.”

  He looked along the aisle and then craned his neck to see Tom, high up on the rolling ladder that could be swished along the full length of the shelves to reach any point. Declan watched as Tom dragged out one of the sacks from a shelf and slit across it with a gleaming knife. A sweet aroma sailed out of the sack. Tom pulled a shiny silver scoop out of his pocket and sank it deep into the mass of brown beans. He lifted out the scoop and started to inspect the contents, turning the beans with his fingers, before rolling them between the palms of his hands and bringing them up to his nose to inhale their scent.

  Tom nodded to himself, satisfied.

  He called down, “Write this down, will you, Declan, and ask Kylie to log it on the computer.”

  Declan had his pen and paper poised. “Go on!”

  “874351/12/102/23/10/13 – condition good,” Tom shouted.

  Declan froze, the pen still floating above the paper, his mouth slightly agape. “What did you say?” he asked in astonishment.

  “Pay attention, will you? I said, ‘874351/12/102/23/10/13 – condition good’. Have you got that?”

  “That’s what I thought you said,” Declan replied, eyes wide. “Sorry, could you just repeat it one more time?”

  Tom rolled his eyes and repeated the numbers. Declan copied them down, nodding vigorously, and started to sprint towards the office.

  Tom shook his head in frustration. “I’m sure that lad’s not all there,” he muttered to himself.

  Declan burst in on Kylie.

  “Oh, hello, gorgeous,” Kylie said, startled. “You seem keen to see me.”

  “Tom wants some info putting on the system.”

  “Is it quality control?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me just get the right spreadsheet up.” Her long fingernails tapped on the keyboard. “Fire away.”

  Declan moved behind her and bent over her shoulder so he could see the screen.

  Kylie swivelled in her chair; their faces were almost touching. “Are you trying to look down my top, you naughty boy?” she grinned.

  “I’m interested in how the system works.” Declan’s olive skin blushed.

  She let out a laugh that sounded like a horse neighing. “Oh, Declan, you are funny.” She fluttered her eyes slowly, so that her fake lashes brushed his cheek. “I’m only teasing you. Now, have you asked Gina out yet?”

  Declan coughed nervously. “No, I think it’s best if we just stay mates.”

  She cupped his face between her hands, pouting. “Is it still ‘complicated’?”

  Declan nodded.

  “Well you know what they say, don’t you? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’.” Kylie laughed at herself. “Get me…quoting poetry. But what I’m saying is, Declan, you should just go for it.”

  Declan swallowed hard as she released his face.

  “Now what was the data you had for me?” she asked breezily.

  He repeated the numbers Tom had given him and watched as they appeared on the spreadsheet under the different column headings:

  SHIPMENT LOT SACK D.O.DEP D.O.DELIVERY CONDITION

  874351 12 102 23/10/13 13/11/13 GOOD

  His heart started to beat faster.

  “Kylie, can you just run through what all the numbers stand for?”

  “Are you after my job?”

  “No, I just want to know how all the different bits work together. I find it fascinating,” he said.

  “Really? Well, Tom devised the system, it’s quite straightforward, look.” Kylie pointed to the screen. “It’s always the serial number of the ship, the lot number, the sack number, the date the cargo left the port in the Ivory Coast, then we record what date the shipment docked here, and finally what condition the cocoa beans arrived in.”

  “Of course, all the sacks have numbers on,” Declan said excitedly.

  “Yeah, they each have a lot number and an individual number. Every sack has to be accounted for. This is big business, Declan. If a sack goes astray or gets nicked, we need to know about it.”

  “And who decides which sacks to check?” Declan asked, trying to stay calm.

  Kylie shrugged. “As far as I know it’s just random. Tom chooses sacks from different lots
, just to get a sample.”

  “And is it only Tom who checks them?”

  “Well it is now. But Martin used to do it before…before…”

  “Before he died.” Declan finished her sentence.

  “Yeah,” she said, suddenly choked up. “Martin was the only one Tom trusted to do it properly. You have to know what you’re doing. They spend a long time in those containers on the ships. Things can happen: temperature changes, condensation. The beans can start going mouldy. Tom can tell if they’re okay by the feel, smell and colour. He has to separate out any bad beans. Our clients don’t want damaged goods.” Kylie was getting into her stride now. “It really is lovely to see you taking an interest, Declan. I’m sure the rest of the lads think all I do is sit here and text my mates all day. I play a vital role in this business, you know. Without me and my spreadsheets this place would be in chaos.”

  “I know, Kylie. You’re wonderful.” He beamed.

  “Do you want to see my spreadsheets for when the stock leaves the warehouse? They really are impressive: lists of buyers, dates, quantities, how they were transported.” She smiled proudly.

  “Maybe some other time. I’d better get back to work before Tom accuses me of skiving.”

  “Don’t you worry about Tom. I’ll tell him what an interest you’re taking in the business. He’ll be impressed.”

  “No,” Declan said hurriedly. “Don’t do that. I don’t want him to think I’m a creep.”

  Kylie looked at her watch. “Hey! Don’t bother getting back to work. It’s clocking-off time already. Come on!” She turned off the computer and ushered him out of the office, locking the door behind her.

  “Right…okay, well I’d better get home quick then. Mrs. Mac is cooking one of her special stews,” he announced, heading towards the entrance.

  Minutes later the warehouse staff were gathered at the small doorway cut into the closed sliding doors.

  “Good work today, guys,” Tom said to them. “Are you off for a well-earned pint?”

  “We sure are,” they chorused.

  “Are you coming?” Kylie asked.

  “No, I’m going to Clare’s for my tea.”