Chapters (67)
- Cover
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
He could do one of two things. Wait until the man left, on the way to his car, or come back tomorrow in daylight. The building was empty, dark and silent. No one appeared but a car door slammed and an engine started in the side road leading past the entrance to the flat. Simon swore at himself for making such a rookie mistake. The images he had on his phone were poor but one might be recognisable and he forwarded them over with a request to have them checked against records. Not that he was hopeful of a result.
He had two emails from work, of no particular interest, one from his father, asking why he had not been to visit him ‘for several weeks’, which was intended to make him feel guilty but did not, and in any case, it was barely one week since he had taken Richard out for a pub lunch, a stroll and a half-hour of his complaints and disapproval.
There was nothing from Rachel. No text, no email. He sat looking at the screen, changing his mind about whether to send another message or wait longer, starting to key one in, deleting it, putting the phone away, picking it up again.
Hi again. Did you get my last message? Would love it if we could get away. x S
He checked his spam folder. Nothing.
Twelve
Brookie threw his bag onto the pile in the hall and as he turned round Connor tripped him up neatly from behind.
‘Leave off . . . what you done that for? I’ll get you back.’
‘Try.’ He bent over and picked up the bag. ‘This int yours.’
‘Yes it is. Give it back.’
Connor held it above his head. ‘Not . . . you never had that before.’
‘Give it back.’ Brookie made a dive, which was useless because his brother spun out of his reach, the bag still above his head.
‘OK, don’t then.’ He made to go into the kitchen but now Connor blocked his path.
‘You tell me where you got it, you’ll get it back.’
‘Or what?’
‘I’ll throw it.’
‘Don’t be stupid. I want to get my tea, come on, I’m starving.’
‘Nope. You nicked it, didn’t you?’
‘Found it.’
‘Yeah.’
‘It was on a skip and you know I only had a placky bag and that broke and then I saw this and getting stuff off a skip int nicking. Now give it here.’