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feet up on the table. One of his socks has a hole in the toe.
    ‘Hello to you too,’ he says cheerily.
    ‘Where’s Mam?’
    ‘She’s got a shift down at the launderette then she’s having her nails done with your auntie Kerry. They’re having a girly night.’
    ‘That still doesn’t explain why you’re here,’ I say.
    ‘I offered to pick Tia up from school and make you kids some dinner.’
    ‘Right.’
    I open the bread bin; it’s empty. I glance over at Spike’s plate. There must be five slices on there at least.
    ‘’Ere, have some of this,’ Spike says quickly, noticing my frown. ‘It’ll keep you going.’
    ‘No thanks.’
    ‘Don’t be daft. I can’t eat all this anyway. What’s yours is mine, our kid.’
    ‘I’m not “your kid”,’ I say under my breath.
    I go into the living room and turn on the telly. It’s one of those programmes about people looking for houses abroad. I can feel Spike watching me. I look over my shoulder. He’s got up from the kitchen table and is leaning against the doorframe, balancing the plate of toast on his palm.
    ‘Bloody lovely,’ he says, nodding towards the screen. ‘Ever been to Spain, Leo?’
    ‘No,’ I mutter.
    ‘Fantastic place,’ he says. ‘Although I always say you can’t beat Thailand. Bloody beautiful country. The nicest people too. God, the times I had in Thailand, kiddo,’ he says, letting out a low whistle. ‘People are always telling me I should write a book about my travels, you know.’
    ‘Then why don’t you?’ I mutter.
    I don’t usually stick around to listen to Spike but when I do, this is how he talks. Like he’s had all these grand adventures; Britain’s answer to Indiana Jones, only he never goes into any detail, he’s always really vague about it, as if he’s making it up as he goes along.
    The other day he left his wallet on the coffee table and I had a quick nose through it. His driving licence says his name is Kevin. So much for Spike. The address on it is somewhere in Manchester. Apart from that there was a bit of cash, some receipts and a folded-up strip of photos of him and Mam taken in one of those passport photo booths. In the first shot they were grinning at the camera, in the second doing bunny ears behind one another’s heads, in the third and fourth, they were snogging. Rank.
    Spike comes to sit next to me.
    ‘Slice?’ he offers. ‘Go on.’
    The toast drips with butter. It smells amazing. In spite of myself I take a slice, but only cos I’m starving. I rip it in half and stuff the smaller piece into my mouth, swallowing it down whole. It scrapes the back of my throat.
    Spike takes a bite and munches for a few seconds, his lips smacking against one another.
    ‘Actually, Leo, I’m glad your Mam’s out tonight. I think we got off on the wrong foot maybe. This might be a good chance for us to have a proper chat, you know, man to man.’
    ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I say, swallowing my other bit of toast in one go and standing up.
    ‘’Ere, Leo, wait, will ya?’
    I turn. Spike is looking up at me. With his floppy hair and droopy eyes, he reminds me a bit of the spaniel Kerry had for a bit, until it weed in her underwear drawer and she took it to the RSPCA.
    ‘I’m really keen on your mam, you know that don’t you, kiddo?’ he says.
    I just shrug. The idea of anyone being into my disaster zone of a mother seems pretty unlikely to me.
    ‘She’s a special lady, Leo, and I know it’s early days and that, but if things work out, and I hope they do, I’m going to do right by you and your sisters. I’m not like the others, I’m not going to bugger off the minute things get a bit rough.’
    ‘Whatever,’ I say, looking out the window. ‘I’m fifteen. In a few years, I’ll be out of here anyway.’
    ‘Of course, mate. I’m just saying, that’s all. I know it must be hard for you and Amber, not having a dad around and that.’
    I spin round. ‘Keep my dad out of this. You don’t know