The Safe House Read Free Page B

MacAllister down at the far end.
    ‘Enlighten us WPC MacAllister.’
    ‘If she survives, the daughter may be able to tell us.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Baird drily. ‘Meanwhile, until she is fit to give a statement, we could pretend that we’re policemen. Or policewomen. I will if you will.’
    Pam McAllister reddened but said nothing.
    ‘Right,’ said Baird, grabbing his papers and standing.
    ‘If you come across anything significant, see me. But don’t waste my time.’

Four
    ‘Wind up your window.’
    ‘But I’m too hot.’
    ‘It’s freezing; we’ll both get pneumonia. Wind it up.’
    Elsie struggled sulkily with the handle. The window inched up and stopped.
    ‘Can’t.’
    I leaned across her cross body. The car veered.
    ‘Can we have my tape on? The worm tape.’
    ‘Are you enjoying school?’
    Silence.
    ‘What did you do yesterday?’
    ‘Dunno.’
    ‘Tell me three things you did yesterday.’
    ‘I played. And I played. And I played.’
    ‘Who did you play with?’ Brightly. Eagerly.
    ‘Mungo. Can I have my tape?’
    ‘The tape machine’s broken. You shoved coins down it.’
    ‘It’s not fair. You promised.’
    ‘I did not promise.’
    ‘I’m telling of you.’
    We’d been up three hours already, and it wasn’t even nine o’clock. Elsie had slipped into my bed before six, scrambled up beside me, pulling the duvet off in the icy dawn, scratching my legs with her toenails, which I’d failed to cut, putting cold little feet against my back, butting her head under my arm, kissing me with a warm, wet, pursed mouth, peeling back my eyelids with her expert fingers, turning on the bedside light so that for a moment the room full of unpacked boxes and cases from which creased clothes spilled had disappeared in a dazzle of pain.
    ‘Why can’t you collect me?’
    ‘I’ve got to work. Anyway, you like Linda.’
    ‘I don’t like her hair. Why do you have to work? Why can’t Daddy work and you stay at home like other mummies?’
    She doesn’t have a daddy. Why does she say things like that?
    ‘I’ll come and get you as early as I can from Linda, I promise. I’ll make you your supper.’ I ignored the face she made at that. ‘And I’ll take you to school in the mornings. All right?’ I tried to think of something cheerful. ‘Elsie, why don’t we play our game? What’s in the house?’
    ‘Don’t know.’
    ‘You do know. What’s in the kitchen?’
    Elsie closed her eyes and wrinkled her brow with the effort.
    ‘A yellow ball.’
    ‘Brilliant. What’s in the bath?’
    ‘A packet of Coco Pops.’
    ‘Fantastic. And what’s in Elsie’s bed?’
    But I’d lost her. Elsie was staring out of the window. She pointed at a low, slatey cloud. I turned on the radio. ‘… freezing weather… high winds… north-easterlies’. Did that mean from the north-east or towards the northeast? What did it matter? I turned the knob: crackles, jazz, crackles, stupid discussion, crackles. I switched it off and focused on the landscape, such as it was. Was it for this I’d left London? Flat, furrowed, grey, wet, with an occasional industrial-looking barn made of aluminium or breeze-block. Not a good place to hide.
    When I was trying to make up my mind about the Stamford job, I made a list. On one side I’d listed the pros, the other the CONS. I love lists – every day at work I make long ones, with priorities asterisked in a different colour. I feel in control of my life once I’ve reduced it to a half-sheet of A 4 , and I love crossing off the things I’ve done, neatly. Sometimes I even put at the top of the list a few neatly crossed-out tasks I’ve already completed, as a way of getting some momentum which I hope will get me through the things I haven’t done.
    What had the pros been? Something like this:
Countryside
Bigger house
More time to spend with Elsie
Job that I’ve always wanted
More money
Time to finish the trauma project
Walks
Pet for Elsie (?)
Smaller school
Work out relationship with