Chapter 2

Billy Webster ran down the pathway as though his life depended on it.

"Come on, old man," his sister, Crystal, called over her shoulder.

She was running backwards in the distance. They had a special elm tree that they were aiming for. Crystal was in reach.

Bugger.

He sprinted but too late. Crystal slapped her hand against the bark just as he got close.

"Well done," he said, bending over.

Crystal pulled her rucksack off. As usual, the ever-present football was inside.

"Should I do some keepy-uppies while you catch your breath?"

He would have loved to argue with her. The fact was, he couldn't speak at that moment. Instead, he nodded and sat on the ground. The elm tree provided support while he let his body recover.

Crystal was hardly bothered by the run.

Oh, to be fifteen again.

At twenty-nine, Billy was hardly ready for the old folks' home. Even so, constantly trying to play catch-up to his sister demonstrated his advancing years.

He rested his head against the tree and closed his eyes.

"Still feeling guilty?" Crystal asked.

Billy opened his eyes to find her watching him with a worried expression on her face.

"Yeah," he replied. "Letting go of Jack was shit."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. A tension headache was threatening to take control.

"What did he say?"

"He bloody cried."

She sat next to him and rested her hand on his knee. "That's rough."

"I know," Billy replied. "All he could say was he'd given the shop fifteen years of his life."

Crystal was rolling the ball between her feet.

"That's a bit crap," she said. "He did get paid for it."

Billy laughed. "You are cold as ice, little sister."

She kicked the ball back toward her and grabbed it.

"It's not like he couldn't see it coming," she said.

That was true. Jack had been worried ever since Billy took over the family business four years ago. He had good reason to be. In four years, Billy had had to close two shops when their leases ran out.

Luckily, they owned the building of the final souvenir shop. No matter how much he lost, no one could take that property from them.

"Even so," Billy replied. "I like Jack. I just can't afford to pay him."

Crystal bounced the ball off her knee.

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "You can't stay in the shop the whole time it's open."

That was the question he had been rolling around in his head for over a week. Ever since he'd made the decision to give Jack his notice. Unfortunately, there was only one solution that he could come up with.

"I'm going to call Harry."

Crystal stopped playing with the ball and stared. "Harry, Harry?"

"Yes, Harry our brother. How many Harrys do you know?"

She had every right to be shocked. They had hardly been The Waltons over the last few years.

"Okay, Mr Touchy."

"Sorry, love," he said, squeezing her hand. "I'm bloody dreading it."

She got up. "Sounds like you need an ice cream."

He grinned and struggled to his feet. "I think you could be right."

Crystal made a big deal of helping him up.

"You're bulking out," she said. "Perhaps an apple would be better."

He swatted her over the head playfully. "You know what, if you weren't going to be a famous footballer one day, I'd throw you out on your ear."

She cuddled into the side of him. "Even if Harry does the right thing and helps out, you'll still be my favourite brother."

He put his arm around her shoulder.

"I suppose I'm paying for ice cream then."

"Correct. I'm just a child."

She was a child when it suited her. If he had a pound for every conversation that had started with "I'm nearly an adult…" he wouldn't have any issues paying for ice creams.

They walked along the path. It was early evening but Brighton was having the best summer in years. It was like being overseas.

"Are you nervous?" she asked. "Calling Harry?"

"Not nervous," he replied. "It feels like I've failed."

"Don't be daft. You inherited a failing business and me. It's a lot."

He kissed the top of her head. "You aren't a lot, my darling. You're a joy."

They wandered in silence. The park was pretty busy.

"Okay, yes," he said. "I am a bit scared."

"I get it," she replied. "You know he's not going to help, right?"

Billy chuckled.

Oh to be as wise as a fifteen-year-old.

"Yes, I'm fully aware of it. But he can't whine when things go completely tits-up can he?"

When Billy had sold their mother's house, Harry had been perfectly content to take his share of the proceeds.

"Do you think they will?"

Billy squeezed her shoulder. "Not really, because I won't let them."

The sea was sparkling in the late evening sunlight. Billy sat on a wall, watching the waves. They hadn't had much wind all day, so they weren't dramatic.

He looked down at the phone in his hand.

Just bloody do it.

Billy took a deep breath and dialled the number.

"Billy?"

"Hi, Harry."

"What's the matter? Is Crystal okay?"

"She's fine. I need to see you."

Billy closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable rejection. It wouldn't be the first time. Instead he was met by silence.

"Harry? You still there?"

"Should I be worried?"

"Not at all," Billy replied. He didn't want to have to beg for help over the phone. "It's just easier to say face-to-face."

"Hmm, reassuring," Harry said. "Okay, when and where?"

"The shop. Tomorrow morning. Come any time."

"Fine. I'll see you then."

He terminated the call. Billy put his phone back in his pocket and looked back out towards the horizon.

It hadn't been a straight no.

Maybe things were going to look up. Would that be too much to hope for?