Something weird was happening. I just didn’t know what. Since we left Dad, life was odd. We moved three times in twelve years. And each time, Harold was there too.
Mum promised to explain, now I was old enough. She met me in a motorway services, with Harold in tow.
“We’re on the run from the Mafia,” she said. “Your father crossed them.”
Harold gave me a bracelet. A transmitter, so he and other agents could always locate me. He told me to be wary of doubles, people who looked like friends but were really bad guys.
I mean, what would you do? This was my mother.