Read Online The First Time I Saw Your Face by Hazel Osmond - Free Book Online

shell’, but which looked suspiciously like a cagoule to him, two pairs of heavy-duty walking trousers and some thick socks. The fact that the things made him look like a twit and were either itchy or slippery wasn’t mentioned in any of the sales patter.By the time he was looking at walking boots he wanted to run out of the shop screaming.
    Thinking about Phyllida had brought him to his senses. Neither Tess nor he had told her that her potted-drink supply had dried up, but she had obviously discovered it herself, as she’d left the house in a door-slamming tantrum. Mack had felt the walls vibrate in his own flat.
    With the sound of that slamming door still in his head, Mack had settled on the pair of walking boots that hurt him the least. He was a keen walker, he had to remember that. My how he loved walking – preferably from a car to a house. In a small act of rebellion, he had added a bright bandana to his pile of purchases and, when he had got back to the flat, relished making all his outdoor gear look used. He had especially enjoyed going over the walking boots with sandpaper: giving them a taste of what they would be doing to his feet.
    The rest of the shopping trip had been occupied with buying the other props that would help him play the character of Matt Harper. Even though it pained him, he had bought a sludgy-brown cord jacket that he thought said ‘author’ better than his leather one; a selection of hearty jumpers to replace his normal slogan-bearing T-shirts and a couple of pairs of hideous jeans. Next stop had been a ‘gentlemen’s shoe shop’ for a pair of brogues that made him depressed just looking at them.
    He had also bought various pairs of spectacles off a stand because they made him look more studious and could be left on tables and in bars in a forgetful, vagueway. Being absent-minded was a character trait he had observed made others drop their guard as they kept an eye out for you, rather than on you. For the same reason he bought a load of notebooks and put his name in all of them.
    He had only just got his coffee and a bar of chocolate from the trolley when his mobile rang and, seeing it was O’Dowd calling, he went and sat in the loo.
    ‘Listen,’ O’Dowd said, plunging right in without any pleasantries, ‘a Third Party’s going to meet you at Newcastle Station with a key to a rented house in Brindley – No. 3 Brindley Villas. It’s just up the hill from the Rosebys’ farm. He’s got cash for you, too, whenever you need more just call him; he’ll give you the number. Don’t worry, he can keep a secret or I’ll drop him in a bigger load of shit than the one that’s waiting for you. He’ll give you a mobile phone as well.’
    ‘I’ve already got one.’
    ‘Really? I thought we were talking via cocoa tins and string. Listen, turnip head, the new phone is the only one, from here on in, that you use. And no phoning my office and leaving a message. There are just three people who know what you’re up to: you, me and the big bastard upstairs, so keep it that way or everything will leak out like an incontinent nun’s knickers. Anything else?’
    ‘Yeah, those diaries and that photo.’
    O’Dowd just laughed.
    Mack struggled back to his seat and drank his lukewarm coffee, but stowed his chocolate bar away for later.He was tempted to ring Tess. That last view of her, waving him off at Bath Station with Gabi up in her arms and Joe and Fran by her side, had cut deep. Especially the way Joe had looked at him as though the travel-book story had stuck in his throat.
    Hard when someone you admired smelt a rat and that rat was you.
    He had to keep reminding himself he had no choice and once it was over and O’Dowd was off their backs, he could pay off his debts, even get some help for Phyllida if she’d agree to it. Although more likely he’d be standing in a courtroom while Cressida Chartwell’s lawyers tore him into little pieces.
    Him in the dock or his family in purgatory? Bit