Read Online The Mutilation Machination by Shaun Jeffrey - Free Book Online Page B

its lingering spicy
aroma of yesterday’s Chinese takeaway. “Sorry about the smell.”
    “Chicken satay, if I’m not mistaken.”
    Evelyn nodded. “Very perceptive.”
    “Well, it would be, but the bill’s on the table.”
    Evelyn laughed. “I’ll have to remember to tidy up next time.” She
walked across the room and reached out and fingered the counter until she found
the rectangular tea caddy. No matter how many times she thought she put things
in the same place, they never seemed to be there next time she came to find
them.
    Just you remember, child. When things seem uncertain, the answer
lies at hand.
    About to remove the lid, she said, “How about I make us a brew? If
we’re going to be neighbours, it might be nice to get to know each other a
little. Valerie, that’s the person who lived there before you, she was always
popping around for a chat.” She turned and smiled.
    Neil chuckled. “Well to tell you the truth, I haven’t got any milk
either, so if you’re offering, I’d love a drink. Thank you. It’s thirsty work
unpacking.”
    Evelyn sought the kettle and popped open the lid. Then she filled
it with water, her fingers hanging inside to act as a gauge to ascertain the
level.
    “Do you dream in colour?”
    Evelyn frowned. “Do I what?”
    “I’m sorry, it’s just something I’ve always wondered, you know – I
shouldn’t have asked. Jeez, I’m an idiot. If you could see me, you’d see I’m
blushing. Oh Christ, I didn’t mean—”
    Evelyn giggled. “Don’t worry about it. I like someone who’s
straight talking. I take it you don’t know many visually impaired people.”
    “Including you, one.”
    “Well, everyone has to start somewhere.”
    “No, I didn’t mean to suggest anything.”
    “I know. Do I dream in colour? No. I’ve been blind since birth, so
I’ve never seen a colour. When I dream, it’s just noise and emotion. I guess I
don’t miss what I’ve never had, so please, if we’re to be friends, don’t ever
feel sorry for me. I hate it when people start all that, oh it must be terrible
not being able to see. To be honest, sometimes it’s a blessing.”
    “Okay, I promise.”
    Evelyn switched on the kettle and turned to Neil. “You may think
this a little rude, but as we’re straight talking, would you mind if I felt
your face. That way I get a sense of what you look like.”
    “Er, sure, I guess.”
    She raised her hands and touched his cheeks. They felt cold,
making her flinch. A couple of day’s worth of stubble sprouted around his chin,
the point of which felt a little concave. His eyebrows felt narrow; cheeks
angular; nose curved. She fingered his short, damp hair, ran her fingers around
the shell like whorls of his ears. Finally she touched his lips, the soft skin
yielding beneath her fingers, his breath warm against her hand.
    She withdrew her hands. “Are you moving in on your own, or is
there a Mrs Shore?”
    “Just me I’m afraid.”
    Going by his voice and the impression she had after feeling his
face, she felt glad knowing there was no one else and she smiled to herself.
     
    You have a gift. Use it.
    Evelyn ran her fingertips across the coarse fabric of her skirt,
certain she could read a series of Braille like letters from the bobbles in the
material. The letters weren’t perfect, but they were there, a series of up to
six dots for each letter, arranged in a grid of two dots horizontally and three
dots vertically, spelling out the word ‘wabere’. She ran her fingers across the
material again, double-checking. The ‘b’ seemed a little iffy, the two dots
spaced far enough apart they might have been a ‘k’, and the same could be said
for one ‘e’, but her fingers were sensitive enough to decipher them. Her sense
of touch was vital – she had to trust it. It had never let her down before when
she had found the messages. And she’d trusted them then.
    wabere
    brawee
    webare
    beware
    That was it.
    But what did it mean? Beware. Beware