Page 17 of Cupcakes and Kisses in Micklewick Bay

‘Sure can, Chlo. And some cheesy garlic bread, if you both fancy?’

Zak and Chloe cheered at that.

Getting a takeaway was usually reserved for special treats or weekends, but Jasmine reasoned with the difficult time her kids had been having recently, they deserved a little something to buoy their spirits. If a Pepe & Chiara’s pizza takeaway served that purpose, then she was going to seize it with both hands and worry about the cost later.

‘Right then, what are we waiting for?’ She jumped up and grabbed her bag. ‘Last one to get their shoes on is a rotten egg!’ Giggling, she raced out of the kitchen and into the hall where their outdoor shoes were lined up by the front door.

Chloe let out an excitable squeal and shot after her mum, while Zak leapt to his feet, squawking as he tripped over the table leg, losing valuable seconds. ‘Mum, you cheated!’ Laughing hard, he threw himself down the tiny hallway and pushed his feet into his trainers, beating his mum but coming second to his little sister.

‘Mum’s a rotten egg! Mum’s a rotten egg!’ Zak sang, Chloe joining in and giggling as the pair danced a victory jig.

‘Argh! How did that happen when I got here first?’ Jasmine said, laughing hard and thinking how good it was to see merriment dancing across her children’s faces.

‘It’s cos you took too long tying your laces, Mum. You should’ve used skill like me; I just pushed my feet in my trainers,’ said Zak with a guffaw.

‘I reckon you’re right, Zak.’ Jasmine didn’t let on that she’d been deliberately slow at fastening her laces. She’d let Chloe win, thinking it would further boost her daughter’s mood and, judging by her smiles, it appeared to have done just that.

Once in the car, it took the key a couple of turns in the ignition before the vehicle coughed itself into action, reminding Jasmine she needed to book it into the garage for a long overdue check-over. Her fears for the potential cost had meant she’d held off up to now, but this latest trouble in getting it startedwas becoming increasingly regular. She knew ignoring it wasn’t going to solve the problem, and she was conscious it should feature highly on her list of priorities – especially since it was due its MOT next month, which was something she couldn’t afford for it to fail – but with so many other things to contend with, and concern as to the potential cost, it had kept slipping further down the list.

What made matters worse was that she needed her car to get around to her cleaning jobs. Alice had a couple of Spick ‘n’ Sparkle work vans, but they were already being used by staff who didn’t have their own transport – those who used their own vehicles were given a fuel allowance by Alice. Jasmine didn’t even want to think about the potential loss of shifts while her car was in the garage getting fixed – if, indeed, it was repairable. That thought sent an anxious shiver running through her.Don’t even go there!she told herself.That’s a worry for another day. Her head was feeling as though it was ready to burst with so many thoughts that needed her attention. There was barely any room to cram another one in there.

Along with the worries about the Scragg family, at the back of her mind guilt was blooming along with the growing concern that something about her job commitments needed to change. Her parents were a good second to her as far as childcare was concerned, but recent events concerning the Scragg children meant Jasmine felt she needed to be more hands-on with Zak and Chloe. She stifled a sigh, suddenly feeling the weight of being a single parent, not wanting to alert them of her internal battles. She only hoped this meeting with Lady Caro tomorrow would provide the solution she needed.

But, right now, she was going to give her children her undivided attention. There was going to be none of this spreading herself too thinly, or getting distracted by her commitments, or letting her worries cloud her mood thisevening. She was going to make sure they enjoyed themselves. Something at the back of her mind told her it would do her good, too.

Once in town, she parked up on Endeavour Road and they made their way along the pavement to Pepe & Chiara’s. Chloe slipped her hand into Jasmine’s and skipped along happily beside her while Zak raced ahead in his usual carefree way. It was good to see both children behaving more like themselves again.

She only hoped it would last.

She found her mind wandering to Max, wondering if she’d bump into him again. It would be good to hear his story, find out what he’d been up to since he’d left Micklewick Bay. She hoped his adult life hadn’t been as tempestuous as his early childhood. If anyone deserved to have a peaceful, settled life, it was Max Grainger.

NINE

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO

Jasmine knew Jason Scragg was trouble the moment she first set eyes on him in the playground of Micklewick Bay Primary School. She’d been in a huddle, chatting with Stella, Florrie and Lark, when his arrogant swagger had caught their attention as he made his way around, appraising the other children, a menacing gleam in his eye. Even at such a young age, his body language exuded a sinister vibe, sending out a clear message: he wasn’t to be messed with. He’d only just arrived at the school and yet already he was flanked by a couple of “henchmen” in the form of Tyrone Hornsby and Decker Dixon; two of the school’s hard-knock lads, as they walked slowly around the playground, side by side. Such posturing meant they were given a wide berth by the other pupils, particularly the younger ones, though Jasmine couldn’t help but think it made them look slightly ridiculous. Rumours abounded about him being expelled from two previous schools, which was why he’d ended up in Micklewick Bay.

It wasn’t long before Scraggo made his presence felt on a more personal level, particularly with those he’d singled out as being easy to intimidate. He’d taken up residence in a corner of the playground that was tucked out of view from theplaytime supervisors. Like some sort of juvenile gangster, he’d send Tyrone and Decker to seek out the latest “victim” he’d picked off, telling the unsuspecting pupil that Scraggo wanted a word. Everyone soon came to learn that it was more than a “word” the bully was after. It invariably meant the handing over of pocket money, sweets or anything that had caught his eye. The undercurrent of fear he generated thanks to the threats of what he’d do if he found out anyone had “spragged” on him, meant no one dared tell the teachers or playground supervisors. Particularly so, Max Grainger.

Once Scraggo had her friend on his radar, it was as if he’d made it his mission to make the younger boy’s life a misery at every opportunity. He mocked him mercilessly for having dirty, scruffy clothes, and for having shoes with holes in. He took great pleasure in telling Max he smelt like a rubbish bin, which had led to him thinking up the cruel nickname: “Rubbish”. ‘Urgh! Rubbish, you stink! Doesn’t your mum wash your clothes?’ he’d mocked, his face twisted into a spiteful sneer. ‘Oh, yeah, I forgot, you don’t have one. She ran off with another fella, didn’t she, Rubbish?’

‘No, she didn’t!’ Max had cried.

‘Yeah, well, where is she then, Rubbish? If she’d cared about you, she’d have stayed, wouldn’t she?’ Scraggo had said, barging past Max and knocking him with his shoulder.

When this had been reported back to Jasmine, her heart had ached for her friend; the thought of how much it would’ve hurt him was almost unbearable. If she’d seen Scraggo at that moment, such was her rage, she’d have had no qualms about giving him a piece of her mind and to heck with the consequences. She knew her mum did her best to wash Max’s clothes whenever she had the opportunity, but it didn’t stop the smell of number nine lingering once he’d gone back there; it was ingrained in his clothes and the very fabric of Max’s home.

Jasmine had ventured inside her friend’s house only once when Bazza Grainger was at the pub, and she’d been shocked at the chaos – not to mention the smell. Carrier bags, clothes and a variety of junk were strewn around everywhere, making it difficult for her to navigate her way across the floor without standing on something. Unwashed dishes were piled in the sink, spilling out onto every available worktop, and the wallpaper was peeling from the walls. She’d never seen anywhere like it. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought the place had been ransacked. Not that she said anything to Max; it wasn’t his fault, and there was no way she’d hurt his feelings.

The situation intensified when Scraggo had picked up on Max not having a coat after the younger lad had arrived at school one morning soaked to the skin, rain dripping from his curls and down his face. He, along with Tyrone and Decker, had pounced on him in the toilets where he was trying to dry himself off with the paper hand towels, taunting him mercilessly, saying his dad was a layabout who spent all his time in the pub. That he was a “cheapskate” who’d rather spend money on beer than his son. And they’d refused to believe Max when he’d said he’d lost his coat. To this day, Jasmine was sure they’d had something to do with it.

Word of what had happened to Max soon filtered to Jasmine and her friends. And as soon as she’d got home that night, Jasmine told her mum about it. Heather had immediately dug out one of the coats Jonathan had outgrown, which she’d set aside for Max to wear in a year or two’s time. She’d given it to Max when he called over for his tea that evening, telling him she’d been having a sort out and asking if could do her a favour and take it off her hands. Max had been delighted with his new coat.

But his happiness was to be short-lived.

Two days later, Max had been distraught once more when it had gone missing from his coat peg at school. After a frantic search, Jasmine, with the help of Stella, Florrie and Lark, had found it slashed and stuffed down one of the girls’ toilets. And if that wasn’t enough, it had been daubed with paint.

Though he’d tried to hide it, pretending it didn’t matter, it was clear that Max was heartbroken.

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