ELEVEN
Jack greeted her arrival with nothing more than a slight turn of the head and, as she walked over to the sofa, he made no attempt to sit up or raise his head from the cushion. Emma noted he hadn’t removed his shoes, and a glance at the kitchen bench showed no signs of meal preparation. ‘Been home long?’
‘Couple of hours. Penny dropped me off, same as yesterday.’
‘That was good of her.’
‘I’m sure transport will be included in her account.’
Emma perched on the sofa arm close to Jack’s head. ‘Tough day, love?’ she asked, running her fingers through his spiky hair.
‘Yep.’
‘Want to tell me about it?’
‘Maybe later.’
She slipped off the sofa. ‘What would you like for dinner?’
‘Not hungry,’ he whined, in a voice reminiscent of the child he’d been not so long ago.
‘How about a toa
