Chapters (39)
- Cover
- Also by David Mark
- THE WHISPERING DEAD
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- PART ONE
- CORDELIA
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- PART TWO
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- PART THREE
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- EPILOGUE
I was getting upset. I wanted him to stop tearing at the carpet and just tell me what he was prattling on about. ‘Official Secrets Act. You remember, I signed it when I got the job at the airbase, solemnly swearing not to talk about anything I saw or heard or was involved with as part of the rocket programme, on pain of prosecution and jail. They were nice enough about it but they made it clear that I wasn’t to breathe a word or I’d be for the high jump.’
‘Breathe a word about what?’ I shouted, my voice suddenly shrill and full of spite.
‘When they sent us over to Woomera. That trip in ’76. Far end of the bloody earth and hot as the inside of a bread oven. Learning how to clear the liquid oxygen tanks. Longest I’ve ever been away from home. Cordelia was there. And she were called Andrea Domney. I swear I even said her name out loud and she gave me a look that would tear the skin off a person. And it wasn’t long after I got back that they came and made their reminder. And then they offered me a chance to make some easy cash-in-hand.’
‘You’re scaring me, John,’ I said, my head in my hands.
‘It was just a case of picking up the occasional parcel from one place and taking it to another. Sometimes I had to pop a letter in the post. Once or twice I had to come here and give the place a once-over …’
‘Cleaning?’ I asked, affronted. ‘That’s my job! And you don’t even lift a duster at home!’
‘Cordelia never said a word about it when we were with you, but those couple of times when we had five minutes, she’d ask if the money was coming in as agreed and said that I was doing the job right. It wasn’t a bother, and the little bit of extra money was a help.’
‘Cordelia had you doing this?’ I asked, angry and confused. ‘But why’s she been paying me to look after the place, then? You don’t think … aye, I know that devious madam, this’ll be her fancy way of giving us charity and making us feel like we’ve earned it. I’ve told her, that’s not why we’re friends, I don’t need her handouts, we’re doing fine, thank you very much …’