BooksBarbecue
Back A Change of Circumstance
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. One
  3. Two
  4. Three
  5. Four
  6. Five
  7. Six
  8. Seven
  9. Eight
  10. Nine
  11. Ten
  12. Eleven
  13. Twelve
  14. Thirteen
  15. Fourteen
  16. Fifteen
  17. Sixteen
  18. Seventeen
  19. Eighteen
  20. Nineteen
  21. Twenty
  22. Twenty-One
  23. Twenty-Two
  24. Twenty-Three
  25. Twenty-Four
  26. Twenty-Five
  27. Twenty-Six
  28. Twenty-Seven
  29. Twenty-Eight
  30. Twenty-Nine
  31. Thirty
  32. Thirty-One
  33. Thirty-Two
  34. Thirty-Three
  35. Thirty-Four
  36. Thirty-Five
  37. Thirty-Six
  38. Thirty-Seven
  39. Thirty-Eight
  40. Thirty-Nine
  41. Forty
  42. Forty-One
  43. Forty-Two
  44. Forty-Three
  45. Forty-Four
  46. Forty-Five
  47. Forty-Six
  48. Forty-Seven
  49. Forty-Eight
  50. Forty-Nine
  51. Fifty
  52. Fifty-One
  53. Fifty-Two
  54. Fifty-Three
  55. Fifty-Four
  56. Fifty-Five
  57. Fifty-Six
  58. Fifty-Seven
  59. Fifty-Eight
  60. Fifty-Nine
  61. Sixty
  62. Sixty-One
  63. Sixty-Two
  64. Sixty-Three
  65. Sixty-Four
  66. Sixty-Five
  67. Sixty-Six

After forty minutes, Richie sent a message. Lost him after he ducked and dived in crowd. Nothing to report. Back in fifteen. Which would make Serrailler think they had tailed Ginger further and for longer than they had.

‘I’ll treat you to a chocolate brownie with that. Go on, don’t look so worried, we’re entitled.’

‘Are we though?’

Richie winked before turning round to catch the eye of the server.

Fifty-One

Next-door neighbour Kevin Astley and his wife Helen had behaved perfectly ever since the night of Olivia’s death, never butting in, never asking too many questions if they met, but sometimes putting a tin with a freshly baked cake inside, or a bunch of the first daffodils with a note. Ring or come round if you need anything. Guy, one of their two teenage sons, had cleaned and polished Greta’s car without being asked, and taken out her recycling bins with their own as he left for school. She appreciated the help, and the gifts, but even more, she appreciated their tact.

Tonight, she had had to dash out to catch the post office before it closed, and when she got back, there was a cardboard box on her doorstep, with a note. Reheat for 30 mins at 200. Or freeze straight away. I made far too much for us.

She unpacked two foil containers containing beef casserole and as she had not bothered to cook properly for herself in the last fortnight, only eaten lumps of cheese or some scrambled eggs, at first the savoury smell made her recoil slightly. But she should eat better, she knew. Liv would have said so – Liv, whose own appetite had decreased as she had become picky about her food, which had to be organic, locally sourced, additive-free. ‘You’re going to have to do your own shopping if this goes on, Livi, I can’t get it right and the supermarket doesn’t appear to reach your standards.’

‘You shouldn’t go to supermarkets, you should shop in Starly. The organic shop has great things.’

‘Yes, at great prices. Fine for a few organic eggs but I’m not doing a whole shop there, eco this and phosphate-free that costs more than I can afford.’

She turned off the inner recorder, the one that played conversations at random, and put the foil dishes on the worktop. She would heat one later, bake a potato to go with the meat. She had lost weight but she had had none to lose and, worst of all, she had lost it on her face, so that her eyes looked more prominent, staring back at her own image in the mirror out of hollow sockets. Her cheeks had fallen in.

‘Then don’t look at yourself,’ the voice said. Liv’s voice. Sharp, reasonable. Impatient. In Greta’s video, Liv turned away and ran away up the stairs.