Read Online A Lovely Way to Burn by Louise Welsh - Free Book Online Page A

identify.
    ‘No.’ The question startled her.
    ‘A friend?’
    ‘We haven’t met before.’
    ‘That’s good.’ He took off his glasses and dragged a hand across his face. Stevie’s calves felt tight, the way they did after a long run, and some instinct told her to turn around and walk away, but she stayed where she was. The doctor replaced his glasses. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that Mr Reah is dead.’
    ‘Dead?’ Stevie repeated the word, as if saying it would make death more real. ‘When?’
    ‘Yesterday.’
    The edges of the ward seemed to sharpen. She saw the grey floor, the doors to the private patients’ rooms, the nurses’ station midway down the corridor, everything sure and distinct.
    ‘Was it an accident?’
    ‘No, it wasn’t an accident. But it was sudden.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, but you’ll appreciate we’re working at full capacity. The ward is two doctors down and the hospital as a whole is facing a massive challenge. Perhaps I can point you towards someone else who can help you?’
    Stevie took a step backwards. The smell of the hospital was in her nostrils; the scent of her illness filtered through a chemical wash, harsh and sweet.
    ‘No, it’s fine, thanks.’
    She turned to go but there must have been something furtive about the way she moved, because the doctor gripped her by the wrist, keeping her there.
    ‘Are you a journalist?’
    Stevie wondered why the presence of a journalist would spook him. She forced another smile. ‘No.’ There was a move she had learnt in self-defence classes when she was a student – a chop to the attacker’s forearm, designed to hit a nerve and release his grasp – but force was always the last resort. She lowered her voice and whispered, ‘Let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.’
    ‘It’s not acceptable for people like you to go wandering around in search of an angle or a scoop, or whatever it is you call it.’ The doctor kept his voice low, but his words were like bullets. ‘This is a hospital. The children on this ward are extremely sick. Some of them are dying. Is that a big enough story for you?’
    A piece of spittle had landed on Stevie’s cheek. She resisted the urge to wipe it away.
    ‘You’ve a good instinct for professions. I used to be a journalist but I haven’t worked as one for quite a while. My name is Stephanie Flint. I was Simon Sharkey’s girlfriend. He asked me to deliver something to Mr Reah.’
    The doctor let go of her arm, as if her skin had suddenly scalded him, but a note of suspicion still coloured his voice.
    ‘Simon never mentioned you.’
    ‘We hadn’t been going out for very long.’
    ‘So why the subterfuge?’
    ‘Simon probably thought it wasn’t your business who he went out with.’
    The doctor touched her arm.
    ‘That’s not what I meant. Why didn’t you tell me who you are?’ His anger had vanished and his voice was gentle.
    Stevie couldn’t tell him about the letter from beyond the dead, the trouble Simon had gone to, hiding the laptop in her loft, the resolution she had made to follow his instructions.
    ‘Simon was insistent that I deliver the package to Mr Reah personally. I didn’t realise I had to introduce myself.’
    ‘What’s in it?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    Ahumibe was still staring at Stevie as if she was a ghost. His face was gaunt, but there was a hint of flesh around his jowls that suggested he might recently have lost weight. He sighed and she saw him making an effort to return to himself.
    ‘I would have got in touch to pass on my condolences to you, if I’d known.’ He shook his head. ‘Simon always joked that he was married to medicine. Are you organising the funeral?’
    ‘No, a cousin is taking care of his estate.’
    His estate . Stevie didn’t think she had ever used the phrase before. It sounded like an expression lifted from a Victorian novel, not anything that could be relevant to her.
    ‘I see.’ The doctor gave her a weary