turned to scrambled egg lately. Puts me right off having sprogs, if this is what it does to you.’
Harry grinned. ‘When Pete wanted to discuss adoption, you said you’d rather share the house with a boa constrictor.’
‘I think it was a python.’ Sam snorted, looking Harry in the eye. ‘Seriously, mate, are you all right? Because you look like shit warmed up.’
Harry had to bite his lower lip, resisting a powerful desire to tell him everything. ‘Just knackered.’
‘You came back too soon. You’re not ready to be doing fourteen-, fifteen-hour days again.’ Sam scooped up his cigarettes and lighter. ‘Why don’t you get off home?’
‘Yeah, I might, in a bit.’
He called Alice the moment Sam had left the office. She had good news: the patio doors had been repaired, with a stronger lock than before. Her uncle had also recommended a firm who could fit a burglar alarm.
‘Great,’ Harry said. ‘And are you feeling okay?’
‘Yes. Fine.’ Which, from her tone, meant: not really .
‘I’ll be home soon. I’m finishing early.’
‘Oh?’ His wife’s laughter was refreshingly normal. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’
‘Well, I might just surprise you for once.’
‘Lucky me.’
But the positive attitude he’d adopted for Alice’s sake didn’t last long. As he tried to write up some notes on the meeting, the doubts and fears came flooding back. They should have called the police. They’d been fools to be intimidated by threats. Going it alone meant they had no protection whatsoever – and what was it Ruth had said? You got off lightly .
He shivered. Tonight he would have to barricade the house again, and still he doubted that he’d feel safe enough to sleep. Perhaps he and Alice would have to take it in turns to sit up, keeping watch, the way people had in more primitive times.
And then what? If they made it through tonight, what about tomorrow? And the night after that?
H e was out of the building by ten past four. He thought about letting Alice know, then decided it would be nicer just to appear. He caught a 27 bus in North Street and took a window seat. Normally he loved the slow fading light of late autumn: soft and silvery grey; no glare, no shadow. On camera he would add a blueish tint, perfect for romantic cityscapes—
His phone rang. It was Ruth Monroe.
‘I’ve ruled out those other addresses. Lavinia Drive only goes up to 28, and 34 Lavinia Crescent is a dry cleaners. No living accommodation.’
‘Okay. Is that good or bad, do you think?’
‘From your point of view? I don’t know. But I’d urge you to stay on your guard.’
Sound advice, probably, but it made him feel despondent as he walked down the hill from Dyke Road. He turned into Lavinia Street and surveyed the rows of tidy charming homes, rendered in various shades of white and cream and beige, and nothing about the area seemed charming or homely any more. It was now an alley with death traps on either side, each blank pane of glass concealing a possible threat to his family.
Only the prospect of seeing Evie could lift his spirits. He was suddenly desperate to hold her in his arms. He let himself in, calling out to Alice, and immediately heard movement from the living room; an odd sense of a conversation stifled in mid-flow.
Then Alice appeared, scowling furiously. Harry’s first thought was: Someone saw me with Ruth Monroe …
‘You’re home early!’ Her voice, bright and cheerful, was in stark contrast to her expression. She stepped into the hall, one foot hooked around the door to pull it closed behind her, and hissed: ‘The police have just turned up.’
H arry froze in the act of removing his jacket. ‘ What? ’
‘Did you call them?’
‘No. We agreed that we wouldn’t.’
‘Well, they’re here. So somebody’s told them.’
Harry knew that tone of barely concealed hostility: he’d heard it quite a lot over the past few weeks, as their tempers were frayed by lack of sleep.
Harry grinned. ‘When Pete wanted to discuss adoption, you said you’d rather share the house with a boa constrictor.’
‘I think it was a python.’ Sam snorted, looking Harry in the eye. ‘Seriously, mate, are you all right? Because you look like shit warmed up.’
Harry had to bite his lower lip, resisting a powerful desire to tell him everything. ‘Just knackered.’
‘You came back too soon. You’re not ready to be doing fourteen-, fifteen-hour days again.’ Sam scooped up his cigarettes and lighter. ‘Why don’t you get off home?’
‘Yeah, I might, in a bit.’
He called Alice the moment Sam had left the office. She had good news: the patio doors had been repaired, with a stronger lock than before. Her uncle had also recommended a firm who could fit a burglar alarm.
‘Great,’ Harry said. ‘And are you feeling okay?’
‘Yes. Fine.’ Which, from her tone, meant: not really .
‘I’ll be home soon. I’m finishing early.’
‘Oh?’ His wife’s laughter was refreshingly normal. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’
‘Well, I might just surprise you for once.’
‘Lucky me.’
But the positive attitude he’d adopted for Alice’s sake didn’t last long. As he tried to write up some notes on the meeting, the doubts and fears came flooding back. They should have called the police. They’d been fools to be intimidated by threats. Going it alone meant they had no protection whatsoever – and what was it Ruth had said? You got off lightly .
He shivered. Tonight he would have to barricade the house again, and still he doubted that he’d feel safe enough to sleep. Perhaps he and Alice would have to take it in turns to sit up, keeping watch, the way people had in more primitive times.
And then what? If they made it through tonight, what about tomorrow? And the night after that?
H e was out of the building by ten past four. He thought about letting Alice know, then decided it would be nicer just to appear. He caught a 27 bus in North Street and took a window seat. Normally he loved the slow fading light of late autumn: soft and silvery grey; no glare, no shadow. On camera he would add a blueish tint, perfect for romantic cityscapes—
His phone rang. It was Ruth Monroe.
‘I’ve ruled out those other addresses. Lavinia Drive only goes up to 28, and 34 Lavinia Crescent is a dry cleaners. No living accommodation.’
‘Okay. Is that good or bad, do you think?’
‘From your point of view? I don’t know. But I’d urge you to stay on your guard.’
Sound advice, probably, but it made him feel despondent as he walked down the hill from Dyke Road. He turned into Lavinia Street and surveyed the rows of tidy charming homes, rendered in various shades of white and cream and beige, and nothing about the area seemed charming or homely any more. It was now an alley with death traps on either side, each blank pane of glass concealing a possible threat to his family.
Only the prospect of seeing Evie could lift his spirits. He was suddenly desperate to hold her in his arms. He let himself in, calling out to Alice, and immediately heard movement from the living room; an odd sense of a conversation stifled in mid-flow.
Then Alice appeared, scowling furiously. Harry’s first thought was: Someone saw me with Ruth Monroe …
‘You’re home early!’ Her voice, bright and cheerful, was in stark contrast to her expression. She stepped into the hall, one foot hooked around the door to pull it closed behind her, and hissed: ‘The police have just turned up.’
H arry froze in the act of removing his jacket. ‘ What? ’
‘Did you call them?’
‘No. We agreed that we wouldn’t.’
‘Well, they’re here. So somebody’s told them.’
Harry knew that tone of barely concealed hostility: he’d heard it quite a lot over the past few weeks, as their tempers were frayed by lack of sleep.
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