Lawrence had to leave the room whilst Christy made himself presentable and got himself together. If he could have laid hands on the lad’s stepfather there and then he would have torn him limb from limb. He busied himself at his desk, tidying a few bits here and there and then built up the fire in the shop. He could hear movement from the back room, so he tackled his invoices and marked them all up, then checked all the orders and stacked them neatly. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he went back into the room. Christy was sat on the floor by the fire, cross legged like a tailor, tilting his head forward and running his fingers through his wet hair to dry it in the heat of the blaze. As Lawrence had suspected, his hair was drying into fair curls about his head. Lawrence watched as he th
