Witness - [32]

Mike swore.

‘Where’s the telly?’ said Megan.

‘It’s gone.’ Mike’s brain was already adding it all up, looking across the open plan room to the windows.

‘Where’s it gone?’

‘Don’t know.’ Mike walked over; saw the drops of water, streaks of mud on the window sill, and marks on the carpet.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Because.’ His head was too busy to be dealing with her an’ all. ‘Look, just give us a minute, Megan.’

Megan sighed and moved to her toy box.

Mike checked the kitchen. They’d left the microwave and there was nothing else worth taking. Upstairs looked untouched. No insurance though. They’d let that lapse when it came due for renewal.

How would they manage without a telly? It kept the kids quiet, even Kieran could be soothed by putting on a familiar DVD. Mike and Vicky too, barely any social life but a bit of something on the box or a decent movie was one of their few pleasures.

He made Megan’s toast, gave her some juice and rang his brother Martin. Martin made a living on eBay, pretty much, that and car-boots. He always knew where you could pick up a bargain. Mike explained his predicament.

‘Aw, mate!’ Martin commiserated. ‘How’d they get in?’

‘Lounge window. Never thought. Only gone twenty minutes.’

‘Leave it with us, see what I can do.’

Martin rang back within the hour. He could get them a digital set but it wouldn’t be flat screen, DVD player too. Might have a couple of pixels out but the lot for £95. Cheap as chips. But Mike had nothing. No contingency, no rainy day fund. He imagined saying no, turning down the chance, and then the weeks to come with the four of them out of sorts and climbing the walls.

Mike took a breath. ‘I haven’t got the readies at the moment.’

‘No problem.’ Martin was quick to step in. ‘I’ll sort it. Pay us back when you can.’

Which could be never, thought Mike, the prospect bitter in his mouth. ‘Appreciate it,’ Mike told his brother.

‘Probably be tomorrow,’ Martin added.

‘That’s great. Thanks, mate.’

Mike had expected Vicky to go ballistic when she heard. He even thought about lying to her, for like a nanosecond. Knew he couldn’t get away with it. But instead of blaming him, letting some steam off and giving him a good bollocking for being so thick, she went white. Locked on to the thieves.

‘While you were getting Megan?’ she said quietly. ‘So they must have been watching the place.’

‘What?’

‘Waiting for you to go out. Knowing your routine.’ A big frown on her face. Her lips bloodless. ‘Watching us, then coming in here and taking the only things we’ve got that are worth anything.’

‘Vicky, I’m sorry.’

She wasn’t interested in him, in apologies. ‘They targeted us, Mike, don’t you see?’

‘They were probably just passing,’ he said. ‘An open window, it’s asking for it. It’s down to me, I’m sorry.’

‘Just passing!’ The incredulity laid on heavy. ‘Why would anyone be just passing here, in the pouring rain? It’s a cul-de-sac.’

‘There’s the alley, they could have been cutting through.’

She stopped, her face alert, like she’d just heard something. ‘They must have had a car. That telly’s too big to carry.’

‘Not impossible.’

‘And the DVD player.’

‘There might have been two of them.’ As soon as he said it Mike knew she’d turn that round to support her theory. ‘Look,’ he hurried on, changing tack, ‘they didn’t take anything else. No mess, nothing broken. Martin will sort us out.’

‘You don’t care.’ Her face was flushed now.

‘What?’

‘Strangers, some low-lifes who’ve been watching the place, have been in here, touching our stuff, watching us, waiting for you to leave.’ She’d never been the hysterical type and this sudden melodrama made Mike feel peculiar.

‘They haven’t even been upstairs,’ he said.

‘What if this is about the murder?’

‘What?’ He shook his head.

‘About getting at us, getting at you.’

‘Vicky they nicked the TV, what are you on about?’

She stared at him, her mouth twisted with distaste, derision.

‘Look.’ He stepped closer to her, put out a hand, touched her shoulder. ‘I know it’s a bit of a shock but let’s keep it real. Some scallies took the telly. End of.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Vicky, ‘not by a long chalk.’

And she wasn’t wrong.

The other side of Christmas, not that there’d been much festivity in their house but they’d done their best to make it a happy time for the kids. Megan was young enough to be pleased with simple things, cheap toys off the market, the idea of it all. Kieran liked the music. Favourite Christmas songs on his old CD player. Mike and Vicky had debated whether to get him a new one but decided not. The lad loved his old one and they’d learnt the hard way not to force change on him. Getting him into new clothes as he grew bigger was challenge enough. They bought him a second-hand mobile handset in the forlorn hope that it would stop him hiding theirs. And there was one thing that would guarantee his pleasure. An addition to his collection of miniature steam trains. The engines were his passion.

The Museum of Science and Industry in town was a godsend. Full of working engines in tram sheds and railway memorabilia, it was one of the few manageable destinations for family outings. And it was free.