Read Online Controlled Explosions by Claire McGowan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Claire McGowan
Ads: Link
knees. ‘Weird day.’
‘It is that.’
He looked at her, and the old ache came back. ‘Are you feeling well? I mean in general.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m like a beached whale. Still, won’t be long now.’
Aidan said, ‘We need to talk. I know that. I’ve been meaning to see you.’
‘I’ve been here.’
‘I just couldn’t … you know, after you told me it was either me or him. Christ, it was such a shock. It was like you’d done it on purpose almost. To punish me.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. I got pregnant and I’m the size of a cow just so I could make you feel bad. You’re totally right.’
He made a noise of annoyance. ‘I know, OK? It was just a lot to take in. And him – you see him every day, like, you must be close.’
She tried to explain. ‘He’s my boss. He – well, it’s complicated too. It’s not as if we’re—’ With spectacular bad timing, that was when her phone went, trilling in the depths of the (also lilac) clutch bag Pat had forced on her. ‘Oh, sorry. I better get this.’ It echoed in the silent church. She pressed the green button. ‘Hello?’
‘Paula?’
Her heart sank at his voice. She could see Aidan had recognised the name which flashed up; he was once again scowling intently ahead.
‘What’s up?’
‘I know you have the wedding today, and I wouldn’t bother you if I could help it, but—’
‘Something’s happened?’
‘There’s a body. I thought you’d be annoyed if I didn’t tell you.’
‘Is it one of them?’
‘We think so, but—’
‘Where?’
‘Creggan forest. But listen, Paula, don’t—’
‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’
‘No, Paula, that’s not what I—’
She ended the call. The menu of Poached Salmon, Roast Beef with Julienne Vegetables, and Summer Fruits Pavlova would have to wait, and after the day she’d had she was almost weepingly grateful for the certainty of human flesh, a crime scene to analyse, a case to solve.
Aidan spoke bitterly, still not looking at her. ‘You’re going then.’
‘I have to. It’s one of the Mayday Five, we think.’
She offered it as a small sop – Aidan, editor of the local paper, knew the significance of the case more than anyone. But he didn’t budge. ‘If you think that’s more important than today.’
‘I don’t. I’ll be an hour, tops – anyway, they’ll be snapping photos for ages yet.’ He wouldn’t move to let her out, so she clambered awkwardly over him. ‘
Aidan
.’
‘Oh, it’s OK. Go to him. Don’t mind me.’
She bit down the enraged retort that he’d ignored her for the best part of four months. ‘Where’s your car?’ she demanded.
‘You’re not really going to feck off during a wedding?’ But he sighed and slapped the keys into her hand, on a football key ring Paula knew had to have been a present from Pat. Unless someone was getting done on corruption charges, Aidan had zero interest in sport.
‘See you later. Look, I’m sorry – try to understand?’
‘You’ve made your choice,’ he muttered. She pretended not to hear. Then she ran down the aisle in her bare feet, shoes in one hand, bag and wilted flowers in the other, her lilac dress rustling around the folds of her unwieldy body.
Soon she was heading out of town, on her way to a small village in the shadow of the Mourne Mountains. Stone houses, Lego-green fields, the sea opaque with light. As she drove she felt her shoulders, crunched up all the way through the ceremony, gradually relax.
Her father was married. To Aidan’s mother. Even when he’d told her about it months back – told her he planned to have her mother finally declared dead so he could marry Pat – it somehow hadn’t sunk in until now, seeing them before the altar. Everyone else was moving on, and after seventeen years you couldn’t blame them. So why could Paula not give up? Why did she have her mother’s case file in her desk at home, full of questions and blind alleys and no answers at all,
‘It is that.’
He looked at her, and the old ache came back. ‘Are you feeling well? I mean in general.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m like a beached whale. Still, won’t be long now.’
Aidan said, ‘We need to talk. I know that. I’ve been meaning to see you.’
‘I’ve been here.’
‘I just couldn’t … you know, after you told me it was either me or him. Christ, it was such a shock. It was like you’d done it on purpose almost. To punish me.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. I got pregnant and I’m the size of a cow just so I could make you feel bad. You’re totally right.’
He made a noise of annoyance. ‘I know, OK? It was just a lot to take in. And him – you see him every day, like, you must be close.’
She tried to explain. ‘He’s my boss. He – well, it’s complicated too. It’s not as if we’re—’ With spectacular bad timing, that was when her phone went, trilling in the depths of the (also lilac) clutch bag Pat had forced on her. ‘Oh, sorry. I better get this.’ It echoed in the silent church. She pressed the green button. ‘Hello?’
‘Paula?’
Her heart sank at his voice. She could see Aidan had recognised the name which flashed up; he was once again scowling intently ahead.
‘What’s up?’
‘I know you have the wedding today, and I wouldn’t bother you if I could help it, but—’
‘Something’s happened?’
‘There’s a body. I thought you’d be annoyed if I didn’t tell you.’
‘Is it one of them?’
‘We think so, but—’
‘Where?’
‘Creggan forest. But listen, Paula, don’t—’
‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’
‘No, Paula, that’s not what I—’
She ended the call. The menu of Poached Salmon, Roast Beef with Julienne Vegetables, and Summer Fruits Pavlova would have to wait, and after the day she’d had she was almost weepingly grateful for the certainty of human flesh, a crime scene to analyse, a case to solve.
Aidan spoke bitterly, still not looking at her. ‘You’re going then.’
‘I have to. It’s one of the Mayday Five, we think.’
She offered it as a small sop – Aidan, editor of the local paper, knew the significance of the case more than anyone. But he didn’t budge. ‘If you think that’s more important than today.’
‘I don’t. I’ll be an hour, tops – anyway, they’ll be snapping photos for ages yet.’ He wouldn’t move to let her out, so she clambered awkwardly over him. ‘
Aidan
.’
‘Oh, it’s OK. Go to him. Don’t mind me.’
She bit down the enraged retort that he’d ignored her for the best part of four months. ‘Where’s your car?’ she demanded.
‘You’re not really going to feck off during a wedding?’ But he sighed and slapped the keys into her hand, on a football key ring Paula knew had to have been a present from Pat. Unless someone was getting done on corruption charges, Aidan had zero interest in sport.
‘See you later. Look, I’m sorry – try to understand?’
‘You’ve made your choice,’ he muttered. She pretended not to hear. Then she ran down the aisle in her bare feet, shoes in one hand, bag and wilted flowers in the other, her lilac dress rustling around the folds of her unwieldy body.
Soon she was heading out of town, on her way to a small village in the shadow of the Mourne Mountains. Stone houses, Lego-green fields, the sea opaque with light. As she drove she felt her shoulders, crunched up all the way through the ceremony, gradually relax.
Her father was married. To Aidan’s mother. Even when he’d told her about it months back – told her he planned to have her mother finally declared dead so he could marry Pat – it somehow hadn’t sunk in until now, seeing them before the altar. Everyone else was moving on, and after seventeen years you couldn’t blame them. So why could Paula not give up? Why did she have her mother’s case file in her desk at home, full of questions and blind alleys and no answers at all,
Similar Books
