Chapter 12: The Terms

Joss's POV

I left her asleep on the office sofa with my jacket over her and went to see Dennis at seven.

He was in the clubhouse kitchen in his shirtsleeves, frying bacon.

He does that on Tuesdays.

He asked if I'd had a rough night and gave me a bacon butty.

I didn't eat it.

"Sit down, lad," Dennis said. "Let's talk like men."

I stayed on my feet.

He turned the bacon, took his time, and wiped his hands on a tea towel with a picture of Blackpool on it.

"Your lass gave you a right ear-bashing last night," he said. "I heard it from the window. Good for her."

"She'll come round."

"Will she?" He smiled. "I saw you two out the back."

He sipped his tea.

"She had her arms round you a long time for a woman who hates you."

I kept my face still.

I've had a lot of practice.

"She was hitting me," I said.

"Aye. I saw that bit." He put the tea towel down. "It's just, Joss, I can't help noticing."

"Noticing what?"

"That lass of yours was very sure on Sunday. Very sure about a test. And now she's quiet."

"She's shouted herself out."

"Has she had a word with Poppy?"

"Poppy's not speaking to her."

"Is that right?"

He said it gently, and my back went cold.

"The boy's moving to the clubhouse nursery today," Dennis said. "I've told the wives."

"Told them what?"

"My missus will do the days. I'll do the nights, I'm up anyway. Poppy can visit when she's feeling better."

I heard my own pulse.

"No."

"It's been voted."

"I'm his father. It's my decision."

"It was. Until this morning." He sat down at the table with his mug.

"A club can't have a brother's son in a terraced house with two women who've fallen out. It's untidy. It's not safe."

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