"Please, Mr Kimberley, sit down." Abe Goldman offers him a seat, his expression neutral. "I asked you to call by today to discuss your position with the bank."Al fiddles with his pen. "Yes, I know I'm a little late with the payments, but I'll have caught up by the end of next month. Everything's under control.""You're sure of that? The fact is that you are not 'just a little late'. You have missed two monthly payments and the next would be due at the end of the week. Are you saying that you will have made good the deficit by the end of next week?""Um, no, but by the end of next month, definitely."Goldman's expression remains bland. "Can you explain to me how you come to be late with the payments? When the bank forwarded the funds to you, you were quite positive that you could handle the repayments."Al shifts in his seat. "Oh, some unexpected expenses. You know how it is. We had some storm damage to the roof, and then Shelley, my daughter, she needs school uniform and....

"I don't want to go," wails the little girl. "I want to stay with Daddy." She rubs at her eyes. "Why do I have to go?""Because you're coming with Mommy, Sweetie. We're going to stay with Aunty Alice.""But why do we have to go?"*****"Here you are, Shelley, you can sleep in here."The woman turns on the lights to what was a spare room. A bed has been made up and there is some attempt to make the room into a welcoming place for a little girl, with comic books and borrowed toys on a table. Some second-hand child-sized furniture, the bright plastic worn to grey at the edges, is set out on a brightly coloured rug. "Mummy will be sleeping just next door, and....""I want my room," weeps the little girl. "I want Daddy. I want my friends.""You'll make new friends really quickly. You'll see." Aunty Alice squats down, bringing her face level with Shelley's. "We'll take you to your new school tomorrow. Abigail from next door's coming with us. She's so excited about meeting you.

JAMESCarrying a tray with tea all round, I find Michael and Ben in the back 'garden'. A great swathe has been cut through the tangle of briars. Both are hot and sweaty.Ben scowls as he sees me, but Michael brightens, taking a mug from the tray. "Ah great, thanks, James."Ben nods, barely polite, but takes a mug anyway.I glance up at the sun, beginning to beat through the last traces of the morning mist. "Perhaps I should have brought something cold.""Nah...." Michael waves a beer can at me. "Just had one. Not a good idea to have another while we're still waving machetes and axes around.""Have you seen Charlotte?"Michael nods back to the house. "In her room, I expect. She said something about revision for her exams."So, I go in search of my mermaid.Not in her study....She should be working. Exams next week....Where is she?She's nowhere in the house, so I wander back outside, bypassing Michael and his sour-faced brother.I don't see her at first, but

The phone rings and Al stares at it listlessly. It could be the most uninteresting thing in the world.Relentlessly, it rings, the sound echoing from the walls of the shabby apartment.Taking a long breath, he stands, moving to the phone. He moves slowly, the clothes hanging from him."Al?""Eve?" He comes alive. "Eve? Oh, thank God. At last...."Her voice is flat. "Al, I've not called to have a conversation with you. I've called about Shelley. This isn't working. I can't cope with it anymore. She misses you and the boys and her friends too much. She wants to come back to you....""Of course she can come back. Eve.... Are you going to....?""No.... Will you take her?"*****"We'll make it work, Dad. Don't worry." David claps his father on the shoulder, looking nervous but determined. "Stephen and I both want her here. We'll do everything we can to help...." He turns to his brother. ".... Won't we?"Stephen nods decisively, a solid, comforting presence. "Absolutely.

CHARLOTTEMy Master's phone rings. He pulls it from a pocket glancing at the screen and raises brows, looking surprised."Yes, James Alexanders? Oh, hello Fiona, what can I do for you?"He listens for a moment, then frowns. "I thought I'd paid all those.... What's the reference?" Flipping open his laptop, he taps at the keyboard then peers at the screen. "Ummm.... No, I don't seem to have that one. What was it for? Oh, right, yes, no problem. Can you e-mail it across. That's right, yes. No, I'll pay it now while you're on."He snaps fingers at me, pointing over at his jacket... "Charlotte, my wallet." Pulling out the wallet, I open it to take out his card, holding it up for a second for him to see."Yes, that one."Passing the card to him, I leave him reeling off a number into his phone.But what has caught my eye, is a photo, creased and clearly old, tucked into a plastic window.The face in the photo is of a woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Dark-eyed and with a