Read Online Sleight of Hand by Nick Alexander - Free Book Online Page A

I can speak to Jenny.”
    â€œOf course,” I say. “You don’t really know me, do you. Well it’s up to you. I can take her next door or …”
    The door pushes open and Sarah’s face appears. “I want to go home,” she says.
    Susan sighs. “I think it’s best if you stay here,” she says. “Your dad’s very tired and …”
    â€œI’m not her dad,” I interrupt. “I’m just a friend. A friend of the family.”
    â€œOh, I’m sorry,” Susan says, warming up a little. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I just assumed … I thought you were Nick. And he doesn’t have the best reputation from what I hear.”
    I wince again, and she glances down at Sarah and pulls a face. “Sorry,” she says. “So is Sarah happy to go with you?”
    â€œSure,” I say. “You remember me, don’t you? Uncle Mark. From France?”
    Sarah nods seriously. “You stole Mummy’s boyfriend,” she says.
    I snort, grit my teeth, close my eyes, and rub the bridge of my nose. I don’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or faint from hunger and exhaustion. When I open my eyes again, Susan’s expression has reverted to grim. “I definitely think she should stay here,” she says.
    â€œWhere’s Mummy?” Sarah asks, her bottom lip trembling. “Is she at the hotel?”
    â€œYes, she’s at the hotel,” Susan says, shooting me a glare.
    â€œIt’s got a baby fridge,” Sarah tells me. “Full of chocolate.”
    I nod. “Wow. Sounds good.”
    â€œYes, but Mummy said you can sleep over,” Susan says. “Wouldn’t you rather sleep over with Franny and have pancakes for breakfast?”
    Sarah’s frown fades slightly, just enough to indicate that she might yet be convinced.
    â€œAnd tomorrow we can go to the park again.”
    Sarah blinks and rubs her eyes.
    â€œBut only if you get straight back up to bed.”
    Sarah nods and hesitantly vanishes behind the door again.
    â€œGod,” I say, “you’re good.”
    Susan shrugs. “They love sharing a bed. They won’t get any sleep, but …” she shrugs. “Tomorrow’s not a school day.”
    â€œDoes she go to school already?”
    â€œFranny does,” she says.
    â€œRight, well, I’ll, just, um, leave her with you then.”
    â€œI think that’s best.”
    I nod. “Oh, and you don’t happen to have a key, do you?”
    â€œA key?”
    â€œTo Jenny’s place? This was all a bit unplanned, so …”
    â€œNo,” she says, starting now to look suspicious as well as grim. “No, I don’t
have a key
. How well do you actually know her?”
    I sigh. “Pretty well. Well enough to fly all the way from Colombia to come to the funeral, anyway.”
    â€œColombia?” she says.
    â€œYeah. South America.”
    She takes a step forward, forcing me to retreat to the front door. “Yes, I
know
Colombia,” she says. “I saw a documentary.”
    â€œIt’s a country,” I say, sensing first hand the frustration that Colombian’s must feel about their country being persistently reduced to drugs –
nothing
but drugs. “It’s a whole, vast, country.” I run a hand across my forehead and realise that I’m feeling shaky and angry. “Jees … look … thanks for looking after Sarah. We can sort the rest out tomorrow, eh?”
    â€œI’ll call Jenny in the morning,” she says. “That’s the best bet really.”
    â€œThey said after lunch. The people at the hospital. They said they wouldn’t know anything till after lunch. Just so you know.”
    â€œIt’s Frimley Park, I take it?”
    â€œThat’s the one.”
    â€œOK. I’ll call her after lunch,” she says, already pushing the door closed.
    â€œWhat other people