Read Online My Name Is Lydia (Jack Nightingale short story) by Stephen Leather - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephen Leather
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Please.”
The water was covering
the stomach now. The head rested against the back of the bath, still well clear
of danger. She heard the whispered conversation outside the door, though she
couldn’t make out the words. Finally the father spoke again. “Christine, you
need to come out now, or we’ll have to come in. Please, darling. You’re
worrying us. Please open the door.”
Still she waited, and
then she smiled as the doorknob turned. She heard the impact of a shoulder
against the door. The door itself was strong, but the tiny bolt was held in by
shallow screws and burst away from the frame as fifteen stone of the father’s
full weight smashed against it. The parents tumbled into the room, stopping in
horror when they saw the small figure in the bath.
“Christine,” screamed
the mother. “Oh my God, Christine.”
She raised the head a
little further out of the water and stared malevolently at the two adults, her
eyes flashing contempt. The voice was harsh, deep and angry “Don’t you fucking
dare to call me that. My name is Lydia.”
* * *
Jack Nightingale knew
that it was illegal to smoke in a place of business. On the other hand, with a
complete absence of cases for the last two weeks, he was beginning to doubt
whether his office fitted that description any longer. He decided to open the
window before lighting up a Marlboro, which he figured probably let in fumes
far more harmful than his cigarette produced. He sat down at his computer and
continued checking his emails, most of which seemed to be offering him dates
with Russian women and Chinese Viagra pills to make his relations with them
last longer. No sign of anything that would top up his bank account. In fact he
was starting to wonder why he’d bothered to show up at the office at all today,
when the door swung open and Jenny walked in.
Nightingale just had
time to notice her dark blue blazer and light blue jeans before she pointed an
accusing finger at him. “Seriously? You promised not to smoke in the office
anymore.”
“Well, to be fair, I
think what I actually said was that I wouldn’t let you see me smoke here
anymore.”
“That wasn’t what you
said. You promised.”
“I had my fingers
crossed. This is the last one for the day. In here anyway. Now sit down and I’ll make you a coffee.”
“Coffee isn’t actually
an infallible way to get round me, you know.”
Nightingale raised an
eyebrow. “So, you don’t want one?”
“Well…yes.”
Nightingale crushed
out his cigarette and did the necessary with the coffee maker. By the time he
handed Jenny her cup she was sitting at her desk with her computer fired up,
checking invoices and payments. Not many of either recently. She sipped her
coffee and looked up at him.
“Jack, I need a
favour.”
“Ask and ye shall receive,”
he said. “Unless you need a loan in which case you’re out of luck. My bank
balance is under some strain at the moment.”
“No, it’s not money. I
just want you to see a friend of mine, well, more a friend of my mother’s
really. He’s in a bit of a quandary apparently, and he says it sounds like your
sort of thing. I sort of gathered it’s to do with another friend of mother’s
but…”
“Hold on a minute,”
said Nightingale. “You’re losing me already. Why don’t you start from the
beginning and take it slowly.”
She sipped her coffee.
“Well, I’m not sure I can really, he didn’t tell me all that much about it. It
would be easier if you talked to Maurice yourself. That’s his name, Maurice
Mahoney.”
“So it’s a case?”
“Not really, he just
needs some advice. Pro bono.”
“You know I hate that
band, Jenny.”
“You make the same U2
joke every time I mention Pro Bono.”
“I have a limited
repertoire,” he admitted. “Bit like U2. Sure, bring him in. It’s not as if I’m
worked off my feet at the moment.”
Jenny smiled. “He’ll
be here in twenty minutes. I knew you wouldn’t
The water was covering
the stomach now. The head rested against the back of the bath, still well clear
of danger. She heard the whispered conversation outside the door, though she
couldn’t make out the words. Finally the father spoke again. “Christine, you
need to come out now, or we’ll have to come in. Please, darling. You’re
worrying us. Please open the door.”
Still she waited, and
then she smiled as the doorknob turned. She heard the impact of a shoulder
against the door. The door itself was strong, but the tiny bolt was held in by
shallow screws and burst away from the frame as fifteen stone of the father’s
full weight smashed against it. The parents tumbled into the room, stopping in
horror when they saw the small figure in the bath.
“Christine,” screamed
the mother. “Oh my God, Christine.”
She raised the head a
little further out of the water and stared malevolently at the two adults, her
eyes flashing contempt. The voice was harsh, deep and angry “Don’t you fucking
dare to call me that. My name is Lydia.”
* * *
Jack Nightingale knew
that it was illegal to smoke in a place of business. On the other hand, with a
complete absence of cases for the last two weeks, he was beginning to doubt
whether his office fitted that description any longer. He decided to open the
window before lighting up a Marlboro, which he figured probably let in fumes
far more harmful than his cigarette produced. He sat down at his computer and
continued checking his emails, most of which seemed to be offering him dates
with Russian women and Chinese Viagra pills to make his relations with them
last longer. No sign of anything that would top up his bank account. In fact he
was starting to wonder why he’d bothered to show up at the office at all today,
when the door swung open and Jenny walked in.
Nightingale just had
time to notice her dark blue blazer and light blue jeans before she pointed an
accusing finger at him. “Seriously? You promised not to smoke in the office
anymore.”
“Well, to be fair, I
think what I actually said was that I wouldn’t let you see me smoke here
anymore.”
“That wasn’t what you
said. You promised.”
“I had my fingers
crossed. This is the last one for the day. In here anyway. Now sit down and I’ll make you a coffee.”
“Coffee isn’t actually
an infallible way to get round me, you know.”
Nightingale raised an
eyebrow. “So, you don’t want one?”
“Well…yes.”
Nightingale crushed
out his cigarette and did the necessary with the coffee maker. By the time he
handed Jenny her cup she was sitting at her desk with her computer fired up,
checking invoices and payments. Not many of either recently. She sipped her
coffee and looked up at him.
“Jack, I need a
favour.”
“Ask and ye shall receive,”
he said. “Unless you need a loan in which case you’re out of luck. My bank
balance is under some strain at the moment.”
“No, it’s not money. I
just want you to see a friend of mine, well, more a friend of my mother’s
really. He’s in a bit of a quandary apparently, and he says it sounds like your
sort of thing. I sort of gathered it’s to do with another friend of mother’s
but…”
“Hold on a minute,”
said Nightingale. “You’re losing me already. Why don’t you start from the
beginning and take it slowly.”
She sipped her coffee.
“Well, I’m not sure I can really, he didn’t tell me all that much about it. It
would be easier if you talked to Maurice yourself. That’s his name, Maurice
Mahoney.”
“So it’s a case?”
“Not really, he just
needs some advice. Pro bono.”
“You know I hate that
band, Jenny.”
“You make the same U2
joke every time I mention Pro Bono.”
“I have a limited
repertoire,” he admitted. “Bit like U2. Sure, bring him in. It’s not as if I’m
worked off my feet at the moment.”
Jenny smiled. “He’ll
be here in twenty minutes. I knew you wouldn’t
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