Wrath. Anne Davies

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      “Just out for a few drinks and a meal. I won’t be late. Just stay here. If there’s any big problem, go and call Mr Woolhouse next door or just ring my mobile. I’ve bought pizza for your tea.”

      Those Friday nights became a regular thing. Mum would dress herself up, looking and smelling beautiful. She had this one dress Dad loved. It was black and fitted her tight—that’s all I remember—but the first time I saw her go down the drive with Ray Reid, wearing that dress, all I could see was his big, freckled hand stretched out across her back. Mum, you were so happy.

      Katy didn’t seem to worry. She mostly got on Facebook on those nights, and I would read a bit or do some homework to take my mind off the waiting, always waiting for Dad to come home.