Ishmael Toffee Read Online Free

holding the happy book across his knees.
     

5
     
     
    Florence can’t stomach being close to him now, John Goddard. Now that she’s done lying to herself about what he is and what he does.
    Mr. Goddard, dressed in one of his expensive suits, stands in the kitchen drinking fruit juice from the bottle. He puts it back in the fridge and crosses to where she washes the dishes. His smell—once so nice and fresh and clean—is sour in her nostrils.
    She glances at him and when he smiles one of his rich man’s smiles she looks away, carries on washing up as he rinses his hands and dries them on a dish towel.
     “Flo,” he says, “now that kindergarten’s out, can you keep an eye on Cindy today and tomorrow, until I can arrange play dates later in the week?”
    She lifts a hand from the soapy water and reaches for a plate, sponges away a smear of fat and gravy. “Of course, Mr. Goddard. She’s as good as gold that little one. It’s no problem.”
    There’s lint on his collar and usually she’d dry her hands and pick it off, but she turns back to her dishes. She sees him reflected in the window above the sink and if he carried on out the kitchen door to his car she would have lost her courage and said nothing, but his phone rings and he answers it, and she hears him telling someone to come anytime in the day and ask for Florence.
    He slips the phone into his pocket and says, “Flo, an estate agent may come to look at the house today. Her name’s Penny Gold. Show her around, okay?”
    “You selling, Mr. Goddard?” Trying to sound casual, but her heart is beating like a mad thing.
    He shakes his head. “No, no, just getting the place valued. For insurance.”
    He’s lying. Does he think she’s a fool? He’s going to sell and leave the country and dump her.
    Mr. Goddard walks toward the door, saying, “Don’t worry about cooking for us tonight, I’ll bring home pizza.”
    And she sees him with the child on the sofa, watching a movie, feeding her pizza before he takes her through to the bedroom to do what he does.
    “Mr. Goddard, I know what’s going on,” she says before she can stop herself.
    “What do you mean, Flo?” Smiling at her, hands in his pockets.
    As she turns to him she feels breathless and the room spins and she has to hold onto the counter with her soapy hands.
    “I know what you do to Cindy.” Her voice choked.
    He’s looking at her with blue eyes cold like seawater. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
    There’s no stopping her now and the words spill from her mouth. “I know why Mrs. Goddard done what she done. Killed herself. When she found out.”
    He takes a step toward her. “I would advise you to be very careful, Florence.” Speaking like the lawyer he is. “Allegations like these can get you into serious trouble.”
    “I got proof.”
    “What proof?”
    “I got the child’s panty. With blood on it. And your stuff on it, too.”
    For a moment she’s sure he’s going to hit her, his face white and something beating in his jaw. “Where are they? The panties?”
    “They safe. With a friend.”
    “This is nonsense,” he says. “Dangerous nonsense.” But his eyes don’t believe his words. He looks away, pinches the bridge of his nose with his nicely manicured fingers, then stares at her. “What do you want?”
    “One hundred thousand,” she blurts out.
    He shakes his head and laughs with no humor. “You bloody people. It’s always about money, isn’t it? You don’t care who you betray as long as you’re getting your pockets filled.”
    As if she’s the one who has done wrong. She feels her cheeks burning, left confused and off balance.
    Mr. Goddard says, “It’ll take me a few days to get that much money together.” She nods. “You won’t get a cent if you speak a word of this, do you understand?”
    She nods again, looking down at his shiny black shoes on the yellow and white tiles. Shoes she polished. The shoes turn with a little squeal and he is