Something Hidden Read Free

rubbish but at least it was a new year, with shops flogging anything they could on the cheap,
something different on the telly and the memories of Christmas. But February? It was just there: a waste of everyone’s time. Plus
this
February was colder than usual – which was
saying something for the ice-ridden north of England. Quite frankly, February could sod off. Bring on the spring, with bouncing baby bunnies, early blooming daffodils, and . . . okay, it rained a
lot in spring too – but at least it was a degree or two warmer.
    Frost clung to the shadows along the cobbled alley as Andrew hurried from his parking space to the office. It was only a few hundred metres but more than enough in this weather. A biting breeze
sizzled around the tightly packed buildings, whistling into the minuscule gap between Andrew’s shirt and coat and sending a new wave of shivers bristling through him.
    Brrr.
    Bloody February.
    As he reached the corner and turned onto the street that housed his office, Andrew glanced up, spotting the hazy shape on the steps ahead. At first he thought it was a crumpled bin bag but then
the outline moved, sending a thin spiral of breath into the atmosphere. It was a girl or a young woman, somebody small, with arms wrapped around her spindly legs, which were tucked into her chest.
She was wearing a purple bobble hat, with long, dark hair peeping out at the bottom. All elbows and knees and seriously underfed.
    Another breath disappeared into the ether as Andrew reached the front of his office, towering over the shrunken figure.
    ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
    She peered up at him through sleep-deprived half-closed eyes, her voice a harsh croak in the cold. There was a politeness to her tone that wasn’t forced. ‘Are you Mr
Hunter?’
    ‘Yeah, I, er . . . it’s Andrew.’
    Andrew stepped backwards as the girl clambered to her feet. She was young: twenty-one at the most but probably not even that. She was wearing a thin jacket and shivering uncontrollably under the
northern onslaught. After stepping around her, Andrew unlocked the door and held it open, offering a thin smile as he turned off the alarm system. The girl was brushing grit from the back of her
trousers, stretching her legs and suppressing a yawn. Her skin was white, almost grey. How long had she been outside? It had been below freezing the previous night and it looked as if she’d
slept on the street.
    She tried to smile but her jaw clicked and she winced as she wrapped her arms around herself. When she spoke, her teeth chattered. ‘You investigate stuff, don’t you?’
    Andrew nodded towards the stairs beyond her. ‘Let’s get you upstairs first – the heating’s on up there and you look, er . . .’
    He didn’t finish the sentence.
    The office wasn’t quite cosy but it was certainly warmer than the hallway. As Andrew fussed around putting the kettle on, the girl sat next to the radiator, splaying her fingers wide and
taking deep breaths. Andrew wondered if she’d say anything else but she seemed happy to enjoy the temperature. He fished a pint of milk from the back of the mini-fridge and straightened the
pile of cardboard folders next to his computer, before crossing to the other desk and taking a packet of Jammie Dodgers from the bottom drawer. He pulled apart the wrapper and passed the packet to
the girl, offering a ‘go on’ as she asked silently if he was really giving them to her.
    She ate slowly, nibbling at the layers and devouring one crumb by crumb, not allowing anything to fall.
    ‘You can have another,’ Andrew said. ‘They’re Jenny’s . . . my assistant’s. She’s got packets and packets of the things in her drawer. I don’t
know how she eats so much.’
    The girl nodded eagerly, eyes darting towards the open packet next to the radiator and taking a second biscuit as the kettle clicked off.
    ‘Do you want a tea?’ Andrew asked. ‘Coffee?’
    ‘Tea.’
    ‘Milk? Sugar?’
    ‘Just