AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She winks and speeds off again, skilfully manoeuvring her wheelchair around a briefcase someone’s left sitting on the floor and then around Satish, who’s walking towards her with his head down, engrossed in reading something on his phone. Clearly startled, he lets out a little yelp and a ‘Whoops, sorry Ellie!’, and I smile again, with genuine amusement this time. She’s pretty incredible, I often think; she was born with a congenital spinal cord injury, and has never been able to walk, and it hasn’t held her back one tiny bit. She has a lovely rooftop apartment in Vittoria Walk, not far from my place, her successful business, anamazingsocial life … I watch her zip neatly back into position behind her desk just as her phone starts to ring for the umpteenth time today, then turn as Satish, who’s just reached my desk, pauses and grimaces at me.
‘You look knackered, Mary. You OK?’ he says, and then, not waiting for me to reply, adds: ‘She’s a right little speed demon, isn’t she?’
‘She is. And I’m fine, thanks,’ I say. ‘Busy. You?’
I don’t really mind Satish, as I’ve said before. He seems quite nice; he never stares at me and my burns, like so many people do. He doesn’t even seem to notice them. He’s pleasant to everyone, but he and Edward seem to have become particularly pally recently, which probably means, I’ve reluctantly decided, that Edward is basically OK too, if it wasn’t for his disconcerting habit of invading my personal space.
‘Yeah, busy, busy,’ Satish says, and waves his phone at me. ‘Just catching up on the news while I go for a coffee. I’ll let you get on. But you do look really tired, so take it easy, right?’
He looks at me with a concerned expression, as if assessing the level of my “tiredness”, then wanders off, head down again, scrolling on his phone. I sit there for another few moments, wondering what to do, then look at the time. It’s after four.
Sod it, I’m going home.
When I get there, via Tesco to pick up some pasta and a couple of bottles of wine – I’mdefinitelygoing to need a drink tonight – Pete’s already home, chopping tomatoes in the kitchen. I feel a little put out suddenly – he hasn’t rung me today, and I thought he might, considering – but I suppose he’s been busy at work, and now he’s not alone here either. He’s chatting to Megan, who’s sitting on one of the high stools at the breakfast bar, looking lithe and toned in tight leggings and sipping water from a glass.
‘Oh, hi Mary,’ she says. ‘I’m not staying. I’m off to class in a bit – just popped in for a quick catch-up with this hunk.’
She winks at me, and we both smile as Pete rolls his eyes dramatically. I sit down next to her, and we chat for a few minutes about not very much: the weather, and how busy her work is at this time of year, mostly. As well as being a fanatical runner, she’s a yoga teacher, so when she says she’s ‘off to class’ she means she’s teaching at one of the big gyms in town. She tries, not for the first time, to persuade me to come and join one of her lessons (‘It would do you so much good, Mary. You look a bit pale and stressed, if you don’t mind me saying, and it really helps …’) and I sigh inwardly, wondering how many more people are going to comment on my appearance today, and politely decline, as I always do. I don’t mind a long walk or a swim, but bending myself into all sorts of weird positions in a hot sweaty room with no windows and huge mirrors everywhere? Really not for me, no matter how pale, stressed or tired I may be. When she excuses herself to nip to the loo, I make sure the kitchen door is closed then turn to Pete.
‘You haven’t told her, have you? About the diary?’ I hiss.
He looks up from the pot he’s stirring on the hob – I’m not sure what he’s cooking, but it smells delicious – with an indignant look on his face.
‘Of course I haven’t. I told you I wouldn’t. Why? And I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch today, I was in non-stop meetings and then Megan was waiting for me in reception when I finished work, I didn’t have a second to myself …’
‘It doesn’t matter. Shush, listen. Because I’ve just spoken to the police again, and they’ve told me there’s a media blackout on this now, and absolutely nobody else can know about it, OK? It’s because … well, it’s happened. The second murder. Jane, in Birmingham. In the early hours of this morning.’
His eyes widen.
‘Christ, Mary! Are you serious? This is—’
He stops speaking abruptly as the door opens and Megan reappears. She hesitates, looking at us, clearly wondering why we’ve stopped talking the moment she enters the room.
‘Everything … OK?’ she asks, a look of suspicion on her pretty face.
‘Fine, fine,’ says Pete. ‘Just a disagreement about … household stuff. Whose turn it is to put the bins out this week.’
‘Yep,’ I agree hastily. ‘And it’s definitelyyours.’
I wag a finger at Pete and he shrugs.
‘Fine. I’ll think of it as an extra workout, lugging all your empty wine bottles out to the road.’
‘Oi, cheeky!’
Megan’s still looking uncertainly at us, but now her expression clears and she smiles.
‘You two. You’re like an old married couple. I’m off anyway.’
She crosses the room and kisses Pete firmly on the lips.
‘See you later in the week?’
‘Try and stop me,’ he says, and they grin at each other, then Megan skips from the room, calling: ‘Bye, Mary! Bye, babe!’ Moments later the front door slams and she’s gone.
Immediately, Pete puts down his stirring spoon, walks to the fridge, pulls out a half-empty bottle of white wine and sloshes some into a glass. He plonks it down in front of me.
‘You look like you need this. Right, tell me!’
