Read Online Killing Cupid by Mark Edwards, Louise Voss - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Edwards, Louise Voss
Tags: Suspense, Psychological, Literature & Fiction, Thrillers, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Psychological Thrillers
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into the bathroom and had a wank to calm myself down, unable to stop myself picturing Siobhan and Kathy in a Sapphic clinch. After I came I got dressed and collapsed on the sofa and watched some crappy programme on daytime TV. There was a phone-in about relationships: mainly women calling and complaining about how unromantic their husbands were; about how they never took them out or bought them flowers any more. That gave me an idea.
I headed down to the market. The flowers were so expensive.
‘Have you got anything cheaper?’ I said.
The bloke behind the stall rolled his eyes a bit and said, ‘I’ve got these lilies. They’re a bit limp, but you can have them for a quid.’
They looked alright to me. I decided to take them straight round to Siobhan’s. My plan was to leave them on the doorstep, with a little note. I checked my bag for my pen but it wasn’t there, so I wouldn’t be able to leave a message. Oh well – it would add to the romance, anyway, if Siobhan thought her flowers were from a mysterious admirer.
I reached Victoria Gardens and paused at Siobhan’s gate, which stood wide open. I could hear music coming from inside the house: something I didn’t recognize. I wondered which part of the house she was in. As long as she wasn’t looking out the front window, I’d be okay. I wasn’t meant to know where she lived.
Heart beating fast, I headed up the short path to the front door. I was about to lay the bouquet on her step when I saw a bunch of keys hanging from the keyhole. What was this? An invitation? Turn the key and come straight in, Alex. But no, she didn’t know I was coming. Was she expecting someone else? I was confused. But then I realised it was a sign, and I had another idea.
Taking the keys from the lock, and still clutching the flowers, I turned and ran back towards the main road. There was a heel bar there; I’d passed it on the way up. A sign outside said, KEYS CUT WHILE U WAIT.
I only had to wait five minutes, then I headed back to Siobhan’s house, creeping up to the front door again to replace the keys in the lock. My own copy of her front door key sat snugly in my pocket. Now I would be able to enter her territory and find out more about her at my leisure. I was so excited at this thought that I could hardly walk or breathe. I was tempted to hang around, hide somewhere until she went out, but in the end I thought it would be best to come back another time. Before I went, I left the flowers on her step. Keys and flowers. A gift for both of us.
Chapter 7
Siobhan
Thursday
Class went well last night. I think I’m finding my stride – well, I think we all are. I heard some really promising work. Kathy’s was fantastic. It never ceases to amaze me, how the beauty of words can grip me in the gut and pull me – she read out this piece about yearning, and loneliness, and love, and I really felt choked. She talked about candy floss as ‘tiny threads of twisted pink longing’, and the bone-chilling ache of cold sea water turning her character’s ankles numb.
It reminded me so much of my (one and only) holiday romance, when I was sixteen, with Colin the Glaswegian. We had to communicate in sign language because his accent was so thick. And body language. I wonder what happened to all his letters? I don’t think I have them anymore. Kathy’s piece brought it all back, how I felt when his mum wrote that note to say he’d died in a car accident. Life is so harsh. I often wonder if he and I would have ended up together. I know we were only kids, but I really felt something for him. I can’t picture his face anymore, just that great mop of wind-swept curly black hair, those blue blue eyes, and the clammy feeling of spending too long in a wet swimsuit. Coming back to the hotel at the end of the day all horny and sandy – that’s what reminds me of Colin. I don’t think I’ve felt that passionate about anybody since.
It really makes me think that
I headed down to the market. The flowers were so expensive.
‘Have you got anything cheaper?’ I said.
The bloke behind the stall rolled his eyes a bit and said, ‘I’ve got these lilies. They’re a bit limp, but you can have them for a quid.’
They looked alright to me. I decided to take them straight round to Siobhan’s. My plan was to leave them on the doorstep, with a little note. I checked my bag for my pen but it wasn’t there, so I wouldn’t be able to leave a message. Oh well – it would add to the romance, anyway, if Siobhan thought her flowers were from a mysterious admirer.
I reached Victoria Gardens and paused at Siobhan’s gate, which stood wide open. I could hear music coming from inside the house: something I didn’t recognize. I wondered which part of the house she was in. As long as she wasn’t looking out the front window, I’d be okay. I wasn’t meant to know where she lived.
Heart beating fast, I headed up the short path to the front door. I was about to lay the bouquet on her step when I saw a bunch of keys hanging from the keyhole. What was this? An invitation? Turn the key and come straight in, Alex. But no, she didn’t know I was coming. Was she expecting someone else? I was confused. But then I realised it was a sign, and I had another idea.
Taking the keys from the lock, and still clutching the flowers, I turned and ran back towards the main road. There was a heel bar there; I’d passed it on the way up. A sign outside said, KEYS CUT WHILE U WAIT.
I only had to wait five minutes, then I headed back to Siobhan’s house, creeping up to the front door again to replace the keys in the lock. My own copy of her front door key sat snugly in my pocket. Now I would be able to enter her territory and find out more about her at my leisure. I was so excited at this thought that I could hardly walk or breathe. I was tempted to hang around, hide somewhere until she went out, but in the end I thought it would be best to come back another time. Before I went, I left the flowers on her step. Keys and flowers. A gift for both of us.
Chapter 7
Siobhan
Thursday
Class went well last night. I think I’m finding my stride – well, I think we all are. I heard some really promising work. Kathy’s was fantastic. It never ceases to amaze me, how the beauty of words can grip me in the gut and pull me – she read out this piece about yearning, and loneliness, and love, and I really felt choked. She talked about candy floss as ‘tiny threads of twisted pink longing’, and the bone-chilling ache of cold sea water turning her character’s ankles numb.
It reminded me so much of my (one and only) holiday romance, when I was sixteen, with Colin the Glaswegian. We had to communicate in sign language because his accent was so thick. And body language. I wonder what happened to all his letters? I don’t think I have them anymore. Kathy’s piece brought it all back, how I felt when his mum wrote that note to say he’d died in a car accident. Life is so harsh. I often wonder if he and I would have ended up together. I know we were only kids, but I really felt something for him. I can’t picture his face anymore, just that great mop of wind-swept curly black hair, those blue blue eyes, and the clammy feeling of spending too long in a wet swimsuit. Coming back to the hotel at the end of the day all horny and sandy – that’s what reminds me of Colin. I don’t think I’ve felt that passionate about anybody since.
It really makes me think that
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