Kristin Read Free Page B

you’d have a very important role to play at some point in
your life, I just wasn’t sure what it would be.’
    Her words took him back to
the awful day he’d said goodbye to his   brother forever. Now he would have to reveal a secret, in case he never
got another chance.
    ‘What are you thinking
about?’ she asked.
    ‘Nick’s funeral. There’s
something...something I’ve never told you. It’s just that, well, before the coffin
vanished behind the curtain ... I heard ... a voice.’
    She put her cup down and
sat back.
    ‘It was barely discernible
... but it was Nick.’
    ‘ ... He talked to you ?’
    ‘He said we weren’t to
blame Ritchie for his death, that his friend’s survival would be punishment
enough. Then he told me to look after you and Dad. He said that although I may
have to make the ultimate sacrifice I would one day realize my destiny, but
that I should beware a stranger I would meet in the future as they would not be
... of this world. He said that he loved us all, and wished us happy lives.’
    She stood slowly, picked up
the cups and carried them through to the kitchen, where she began to cry as
he’d never heard her cry before.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    Four

 
    Thom had no recollection of Sunday whatsoever,
and woke at ten the following morning, slumped at the kitchen table. He found a
large glass, filled it with twenty year old whisky and drank it. Then he phoned
work, told them he was sick, and refilled the glass.

 
    By the time he found her he was barely able
to stand. Two girls were antagonizing her, hovering over her like vultures. One
of them spat in her face then they stepped away, laughing, and the other girl
threw a half-full drink can and its contents spilled down the front of her
coat. He ran at them, ‘Piss off, you slags!’
    Kristin looked at the
spattering of fizzy liquid, her anger boiling and tracked them as they fled, as
their laughter, their stiletto footsteps ricocheted off    the icy walls.
    Suddenly, the younger of
the two women crashed to the ground holding her head, squealing as blood ran
from her ears and her eyes, gushed from her nose. The older girl pulled her up
and they ran, hysterical.
    ‘Are you all right?’ he
asked.
    ‘Bitches! They have spoiled
my coat, the one you gave me.’
    ‘We can get it cleaned,
let’s get out of here,’ he slurred.
    He held out a hand and she
grasped it, but as her skin made contact his palm burnt. He let her go, and she
fell heavily against the wall. She glared at him mistrustfully, breathless. ‘
... Must have been static, I’m sorry I let you slip.’
    They walked quickly to the
northern exit, took the lift and crossed the road to the station. At Canary
Wharf they found a coffee shop on the top floor of the mall.
    ‘What happened back there?’
he asked.
    ‘Back where?’ she replied,
coughing over another of his Dunhills.
    ‘...With those girls?’
    ‘Bitches have been
bothering me for a while.’
    ‘You get a lot of that?’
    ‘Some. That bitch has paid
the price.’
    ‘ ... Looked like she hit
her head?’
    She glowered.
    He glanced out at the busy
lunchtime concourse. People swarmed, laden   with bags and trolleys full of food and supplies they hoped
might keep them alive a little longer if the worst happened. On a plastic bench
outside a boutique a young mother rocked her baby. He wondered whether the
child would reach its first birthday? ‘What do you think ?’ he asked her.
    ‘About what?’
    ‘Do you think we’ll still
be here this time next year?’
    ‘Not all of you.’
    Her words cut through him
with their cold certainty.
    His hand began to burn again.
He looked down. It was blistering badly. He must have done it himself that morning , on a hot pan or
something , that was why it had hurt when he ’ d helped her up . God knows he’d been drunk
enough to have done virtually anything. But now he was sobering fast. ‘It’s a
waste,’ he said.
    ‘What is?’
    ‘Your life, as it