Letting out the Worms: Guilty or not? If not then the alternative is terrifying (Kitty Thomas Book 1

sofa. Nearby, slumped in an armchair, her future husband looked as if his evening’s consumption had exceeded the recommended volume for an entire week. He waved his arm above his head. ‘Mick, Cerys, Cerys, Mick,’ and after a belch, ‘Ditto Maurice.’
Mick stood to take the tray then engulfed her hand in his. ‘Good to meet you, Cerys, and well done for pinning this man down. I thought he’d end his days alone.’
‘Not alone,’ Paul slurred. ‘Got Kitty.’
‘Yes, but she’s got her own life. She doesn’t want you cramping her style, you old fool.’ The twinkle in Mick’s eyes took the sting from his words.
‘Bugger off Mick,’ was Paul’s only response.
‘Paul!’ Cerys said in a shocked voice.
‘Don’t worry, Cerys,’ Maurice interjected. ‘We’ve known each other long enough.’ He shuffled forwards on his cushion and offered her his hand, but the plate of biscuits held his eye. ‘Homemade? The best Paul can usually rustle up is a what’s it? Custard Cream.’ He fed a biscuit into his mouth, and Cerys threw him a wide grin. Maurice winked at Paul. ’You’ll need to watch that waistline, my friend.’
Cerys looked delighted. ‘I’m glad you said that Maurice. I’ve been telling him to cut down on beer for ages now.’
Paul glared, and Maurice had the sense to zip it.
‘So, Cerys, is that a Welsh accent I hear?’ Mick received a nod of thanks from Paul.
‘Hard to hide, isn’t it?’ Cerys’s smile widened.
‘Where about do you hail from?’ Mick helped himself to a biscuit and sipped from his mug.
Near Flint. North Wales. Have you been there?’
‘Sorry, no. I’m a London lad, although I used to hang-glide and climb when I was younger, so I’ve been to Snowdonia.’
‘Really? It’s beautiful up there if you catch a cloudless day.’ Cerys leant forward to rest her arms on her knees. ‘I miss the hills. You ought to…’ She halted in mid-sentence and changed the subject. ‘We’re hoping you can both come to our engagement party, and your children - young people. I don’t imagine they often get together now they’re all working. Kitty’s coming, I know she’d love to see everyone.’
‘She hasn’t said she’s coming.’ Paul had sunk down in the armchair until his knees almost touched the low coffee table.
‘She’ll come,’ Cerys reprimanded. ‘She wouldn’t miss her own father’s engagement party.’
‘She’s vanished.’ Paul squinted at his friends.
Cerys sat on the arm of Paul’s chair. ‘She’ll turn up. Stop fussing.’ She stroked his head as if to tidy his cropped hair, ‘She’s only been out of contact for a week. What a naughty girl, making you worry. She has no idea how lucky she is to have you.’
‘Do you have family?’ Mick asked Cerys, helping himself to another biscuit.
‘My parents and younger sister died when I was young.’
Mick looked stricken. ‘I’m so sorry, how terrible for you. We understand loss.’ His eyes flickered to Paul and Maurice. Paul shrugged, and Maurice looked vacant.
Cerys shook her head. ‘Please don’t worry. It’s in the past now and I’m fine, like. Paul and I have found each other, and I hear you have a lovely relationship with your son, Mick. Paul says you work together, is that right?’
‘Yes. We run a restaurant. It’s the place where my wife, Millie, lost her life. We sort of run it in her memory.’
‘And can you feel her watching over you? I sometimes think I can feel my parents’ presence when I’m on my own.’
Mick looked away. ‘We don’t really talk about her much, but I think Lucas gets comfort from being there. He’s a great chef, just like his mum.’
‘You’re not bad either,’ Maurice interjected, and pointed his thumb at Mick. ‘Taught me all I know about cooking, which isn’t much but it’s more than when I first had to cope with my boys alone.’
Mick shrugged. Then he gave a brief laugh. ‘Remember that first meal you cooked? Sausage and chips. Afterwards, we drove to the deli in Chelterton, and I showed you how to choose Stilton.’ He paused in reflection. ‘It’s closed now. Turned into a funeral parlour. Nobody wants unpasteurised cheeses - too dangerous, they say.’ He gave a snort. ‘It’s a wonder we’ve survived all these years.’
The conversation ranged from food, through career and travel plans to politics. Cerys listened for snippets of information about her fiancé. Paul did not talk about his past, and despite scouring the house, she could not find a single photo of Fee, his dead wife, or even of his parents and childhood. It was as though he had wiped out his history along with the tragic events that befell him.
That these three had each lost a wife fascinated her. Before tonight, she had imagined that their shared experience had drawn them together, but no, they met before they lost their wives. Three men and no women. It was a wonder the children turned out normal.
Digging for more information, she said to Mick, ‘You have a daughter too, I believe.’
‘Yes, Livvie - Olivia. She’s a scientist - the brains of the family. It’s a mystery where that interest came from. As a child, she was curious about food. Not its flavour, but why eggs go hard when you cook them, and how mayonnaise thickens - it emulsifies, apparently. She works for the Environment Agency, testing water. It’s beyond me. I don’t care about the science of the world; I’d prefer to look at its beauty. Liv looks under the surface.’
‘It sounds like you’ve both done a wonderful job bringing your children up. It can’t have been easy.’
‘I couldn’t have done it without my mum, rest her soul,’ Mick placed his palms together for a second in a gesture of prayer. ‘She moved in with Fee to help with the children, and then when Fee passed, Mum stayed to look after them all. None of