Bones in the Nest Read Free Page A

few pots with busy Lizzies and begonias. Chloe would have chosen something textured, like gazanias, whose petals she would like to press against her cheek to feel their softness. The back door of Meredith House opens and she senses someone watching her. She’s not going to turn around; she’s got stuff to look at. This is her time and her space. Let them cram in their sweaty TV room with the curtains closed, watching daytime chat shows, if they want to, but they should leave her alone.
    ‘You Chloe?’
    She nods.
    ‘Not deaf then. Thought you might be.’
    She turns then, thinking this woman is trying to wind her up, but she sees someone smiling through grey, broken teeth. The woman has a scar pulling her cheek up to the corner of one eye. Despite the damage, Chloe sees softness in her face. Maybe the smile is genuine. She does her best to return it.
    ‘I’m Emma,’ the other woman says. ‘Taheera said you were coming on the trip into town. I think it’s just the two of us. The others can’t be bothered.’
    Taheera. She’ll try not to forget it again. Taheera. It sounds good, smooth and pretty like a stone on the beach. Emma heads back into the building and Chloe follows. It’s too hot to walk, so they take the bus. A low single-decker carries them through streets of semi-detached houses and out on to a straighter road, before it dumps them opposite a dirty concrete building, with a Job Centre wedged in one corner.
    When she heard she was coming to York on release, Chloe wasn’t bothered either way. All she wanted was to go where nobody knew her. People told her it was a beautiful city, the sort of place you’d go on holiday, but that didn’t help. The only holiday she remembers was a trip with her mum to Skegness, sitting on a donkey with a melted ice cream dripping down her arm, not daring to lick it in case letting go of the reins made the donkey gallop away.
    ‘There’s the Job Centre, Chloe,’ Taheera’s voice interrupts her thoughts. ‘You’ve got your appointment tomorrow, so you’ll know the way now, won’t you?’
    Chloe’s not sure she’ll remember anything. She took no note of street names or how many corners they turned. She just watched the people, the colours and shapes of them, the sheer variety of people. It shouldn’t have been so sudden, her release, but her jail was closing and although the parole board asked the same questions they’d asked every year, this time she got them right. Now she’s out, with a room in a bail hostel and Taheera as her link worker. It could be worse, she thinks, and lets herself smile.
    ‘Good,’ Taheera nods briskly. ‘You’ll be fine. Right, let’s go sightseeing.’
    As they wait to cross the road by the bus stop, Chloe watches a group of tourists, cameras slung round their necks, hunting for something to capture, but there’s not much to see on this street. Minicabs and buses go past, looking like minicabs and buses. To Chloe the world looks the same as it always has done, as if ten years were a day, or an hour. A woman lifts her camera and Chloe turns her face away.
    ‘Come on!’ Emma takes hold of her arm.
    They cross the road and pass the Job Centre. Immediately the streets become narrower and prettier. She dodges a school party, pressing its way along the pavement, and steps into the road. There are fewer cars now and the buildings begin to push in on them. Taheera rushes ahead, cutting between the clumps of people. Chloe and Emma nearly lose her.
    ‘There!’
    Taheera has rounded the end of a high wall. In front of them is an enormous old building. Chloe can’t take it in. She steps back to get a better view.
    ‘York Minster,’ Taheera says. ‘If you fancy it, we could go up the tower. You can see for miles.’
    Chloe looks up. There’s a figure, standing on the very top of the tower, like a statue on the battlements. He raises an arm and waves. She blinks hard and he’s gone.
    ‘Are there people up there?’ Chloe says.
    ‘I