Two days later, Jess’s cousin Mike arrived home from university. He was a tall, muscular man, nearly twenty-one, with an unshaven face and coarse, black hair. Jess laughed when she saw him at the train station dressed in a suit and tie, backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked so out of place in those clothes, too scruffy for even the second-hand blazer and ruffled shirt.
People swarmed around them, the evening rush hour meaning that the train station was more crowded than usual as people returned from work or school.
Mike set down his bag and opened his arms wide for her. “Jessie!” he cried, face stretched into a wide grin.
“Mikey! Come here, you little squirt.” She ran over to him, pulling him down to her level so she could hug him properly. He’d been just ten when Jess’s mom died
