The early afternoon sky was grey and uninspiring. She walked over to the van and waited, cold and unfocused, her weekend bag clutched tightly in her hand. She felt like a kid about to embark upon a school trip – her first holiday away without her parents: a big moment in a small life, a terrifying and tantalising prospect. Alice still didn’t know who else would be on this trip. Clive had said that they would only be told on the day of departure. He liked his little secrets, did Clive. Maybe he liked them too much.But, no, that was unfair. He was a good man. He was helping them all.The side door of the van slid open and a head and shoulders emerged from the space behind the front passenger seat. She recognised the round, friendly face but struggled to give it a name.“Hi, Alice. All set to go?” The nose wrinkled in a cute way when the familiar face smiled. Ah, yes… Moira Straub, the divorcee whose teenage son had died suddenly three years ago. She didn’t mind Moira. The woman was friendly, if a little highly-strung and rather too fond of overt public displays of emotion.
