didn’t really care if Jamie had meant it like that or not. He held out the envelope. ‘This is from Lucy and me. It’s just a card to say thanks.’
‘Oh.’ He felt embarrassed. ‘You needn’t have, really. It was our pleasure.’
‘Yes, well, we believe in being polite. By the way, do you still want me to take a look at that door for you? It’s still sticking.’
‘Yes, sure. If you don’t mind.’
‘Leave it with me.’
Chris went back down the hall and began to examine the door. Jamie felt puzzled. Chris didn’t seem very happy. In fact, he seemed downright miserable. Jamie’s first paranoid thought was that he had done something wrong – that he had said something to offend Chris at the dinner party. Or maybe Chris had the same virus as Kirsty. If so, he must be pretty unlucky, and unhealthy. He had been ill when they had first moved in, or so Lucy had said. It didn’t fit. Chris looked like an ox, ruddy with health. In the end, Jamie decided he must simply be in a bad mood, and put it from his mind.
Brian came in through the door, saying hello to Chris as he passed him, his face lighting up when he saw Jamie. ‘There was no need to wait in the hallway for me.’
‘I wasn’t. I, oh, never mind.’ He realised he was still holding the card. He slid it under his door and then followed Brian up the stairs.
As they reached the top of the first flight, there was a thump at the window, and a shape appeared behind the frosted glass. Jamie jumped, his heartbeat skipping. It was Lennon, Mary’s cat. He poked his head through the gap where the window was open, mewing as he did so, then jumped down onto the stairs and ran up to Mary’s front door.
‘How the hell did he get up there?’ Jamie asked.
‘There’s a fire escape just to the right of the window there. He climbs up it from the garden then jumps across to the windowsill. It’s a death-defying leap, actually. I’ve watched him do it. It’s terrifying. Every time I see it I’m convinced he’s going to miss the windowsill and plummet to his death.’
As they walked up the stairs past the cat, Jamie looked down at him. Lennon rubbed against his ankle. Jamie had a thought, but didn’t say anything.
They went up another flight to Brian’s front door. Brian unlocked the door and they went inside. There was a strong smell of fresh coffee, which was one of Jamie’s favourite smells in the world. As if he had seen Jamie’s nostrils twitching with pleasure, Brian said, ‘Coffee?’
‘That would be great.’
‘The computer’s in there, if you want to take a look.’
‘OK. Is Linda not in?’
‘No, she works Saturdays.’
‘In Boots.’
‘That’s right.’
Jamie went into the room Brian had pointed out. Brian and Linda’s flat was slightly bigger than Jamie’s. It had a larger second bedroom, which Brian had converted into a study. As he stepped into the room, Jamie caught his breath. ‘Bloody hell.’
It was like stepping in to a vampire’s crypt – or a gothic teenager’s bedroom. The walls were painted black, and a black blind was pulled down over the window, blocking out all light. Dyed-black fisherman’s netting was strung across the ceiling. Statuettes of gargoyles sat on dark wood cabinets. Packets of tarot cards lay among piles of books; fat candles protruded from elaborate candleholders, their bases encrusted with dried rivulets of wax. There were pictures of ghosts and witches and demons all over the walls. Jamie quickly realised these were the reproductions of the covers of Brian’s books. One showed a child being held over a cauldron by a green-faced witch. Another showed a vampire bending over a sleeping girl.
‘Boo!’ said Brian, coming into the room behind Jamie. For the second time in five minutes, Jamie jumped.
‘I was just admiring the decor,’ he said nervously waiting for his heartbeat to slow down.
Brian laughed. ‘Atmospheric, isn’t it? I have to keep it this way to make sure I’m in
‘Oh.’ He felt embarrassed. ‘You needn’t have, really. It was our pleasure.’
‘Yes, well, we believe in being polite. By the way, do you still want me to take a look at that door for you? It’s still sticking.’
‘Yes, sure. If you don’t mind.’
‘Leave it with me.’
Chris went back down the hall and began to examine the door. Jamie felt puzzled. Chris didn’t seem very happy. In fact, he seemed downright miserable. Jamie’s first paranoid thought was that he had done something wrong – that he had said something to offend Chris at the dinner party. Or maybe Chris had the same virus as Kirsty. If so, he must be pretty unlucky, and unhealthy. He had been ill when they had first moved in, or so Lucy had said. It didn’t fit. Chris looked like an ox, ruddy with health. In the end, Jamie decided he must simply be in a bad mood, and put it from his mind.
Brian came in through the door, saying hello to Chris as he passed him, his face lighting up when he saw Jamie. ‘There was no need to wait in the hallway for me.’
‘I wasn’t. I, oh, never mind.’ He realised he was still holding the card. He slid it under his door and then followed Brian up the stairs.
As they reached the top of the first flight, there was a thump at the window, and a shape appeared behind the frosted glass. Jamie jumped, his heartbeat skipping. It was Lennon, Mary’s cat. He poked his head through the gap where the window was open, mewing as he did so, then jumped down onto the stairs and ran up to Mary’s front door.
‘How the hell did he get up there?’ Jamie asked.
‘There’s a fire escape just to the right of the window there. He climbs up it from the garden then jumps across to the windowsill. It’s a death-defying leap, actually. I’ve watched him do it. It’s terrifying. Every time I see it I’m convinced he’s going to miss the windowsill and plummet to his death.’
As they walked up the stairs past the cat, Jamie looked down at him. Lennon rubbed against his ankle. Jamie had a thought, but didn’t say anything.
They went up another flight to Brian’s front door. Brian unlocked the door and they went inside. There was a strong smell of fresh coffee, which was one of Jamie’s favourite smells in the world. As if he had seen Jamie’s nostrils twitching with pleasure, Brian said, ‘Coffee?’
‘That would be great.’
‘The computer’s in there, if you want to take a look.’
‘OK. Is Linda not in?’
‘No, she works Saturdays.’
‘In Boots.’
‘That’s right.’
Jamie went into the room Brian had pointed out. Brian and Linda’s flat was slightly bigger than Jamie’s. It had a larger second bedroom, which Brian had converted into a study. As he stepped into the room, Jamie caught his breath. ‘Bloody hell.’
It was like stepping in to a vampire’s crypt – or a gothic teenager’s bedroom. The walls were painted black, and a black blind was pulled down over the window, blocking out all light. Dyed-black fisherman’s netting was strung across the ceiling. Statuettes of gargoyles sat on dark wood cabinets. Packets of tarot cards lay among piles of books; fat candles protruded from elaborate candleholders, their bases encrusted with dried rivulets of wax. There were pictures of ghosts and witches and demons all over the walls. Jamie quickly realised these were the reproductions of the covers of Brian’s books. One showed a child being held over a cauldron by a green-faced witch. Another showed a vampire bending over a sleeping girl.
‘Boo!’ said Brian, coming into the room behind Jamie. For the second time in five minutes, Jamie jumped.
‘I was just admiring the decor,’ he said nervously waiting for his heartbeat to slow down.
Brian laughed. ‘Atmospheric, isn’t it? I have to keep it this way to make sure I’m in
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