Humber Boy B Read Online Free PDF

skills: budgeting, cooking. Surviving. She’d have to be teacher and social worker and maybe counsellor all rolled into one. The poor kid didn’t seem to have a clue.
    “Here it is. Your block.”
    They went to the pristine main entrance, and with the key made their way into the lobby. Here, everything changed. Junk mail was piled up on the filthy carpet and the paintwork was scored with black marks at the exact height of buggy tyres. From the lower ground flat, rap music was blaring, and the door had a dent from where someone had kicked it. However much the local area was attempting to deftly climb social rungs, here the ambition had stumbled, landing in a heap at the bottom of the ladder.
    She pressed the button for the lift and it opened its doors crankily, but when Cate stepped in, Ben remained rooted to the spot. The door began to close and she had to keep it open with her foot.
    “Come on then.”
    He didn’t move and his eyes darted towards the stairwell.
    “You’re on the top floor, Ben.”
    “I’ll meet you there,” he said, and in a split second he was gone.
    Cate let the door close and the lift take her up, a glass panel giving a clear view of the marina below. She caught sight of herself and saw she had a toothpaste mark on her jacket, mornings being a rush of hair and teeth and cornflakes. Paul had spent their lunch hour telling her to go shop, to get back out there, and she’d made the mistake of mentioning the French detective, knowing Paul would enjoy the details of his well-cut linen suit, his glossy hair. She hadn’t mentioned how Olivier had seemed to be looking at her every time she glanced his way.
    The lift came to a jerky halt and she focused back on her real life; tonight she would sit down with Amelia, listen to how her first day of the new term had been, the start of her final year at primary school. In just four weeks Amelia would be eleven, and they should start thinking about her birthday party. Her little girl was growing up.
    The sun sparkled on the water below but Cate knew that summer was almost over, despite the heat.
    The lobby on level five was small but clean, a charcoal carpet that was so new it still bore the fluff from where it had been cut to fit. Ged had told her that Ben would be the first person to live in this flat. When he finally arrived on the landing, huffing from the exertion of the stairs, she handed over the key.
    “Welcome to your new home.”
    Inside was a surprise for both of them. They stepped into the lounge and stood in silence taking in the large glass windows that looked directly onto the blue sky, the boats down below looking like toys on a pond and the Orwell Bridge like an iconic landmark in the distance. The grey blinds had been pulled back so the view was dominant.
    When Cate finally turned back to the room she saw that the small lounge had a simple sofa and matching chair in slate grey and a low glass coffee table. It was quite lovely, and she wondered who had picked it all. Not Ged, he didn’t look like he’d have such taste, and anyway she suspected he’d deliberately pick something nasty to spite Ben. Maybe this had been the show-flat, back when the architects hoped to sell it to an ambitious commuter.
    “No TV. Still, that view would take some beating.”
    Off the lounge was the small galley kitchen, with a sink, built-in oven and fridge. “You’ll have to eat in the lounge until you get a table in here,” she said, opening the fridge. It was brand new, the ice containers were still wrapped in plastic. “Right. Just one room left.”
    The bedroom was a reasonable size, with a double bed and wardrobe, as well as a pine bedside table. The room had an en-suite bathroom, also small but with a powerful-looking shower.
    “I think,” she announced, “that you’ve landed on your feet here Ben.”
    But he had turned back to the lounge and was once again stood by the window, staring out. Not at the sky, but down to the waters of the dock