Something You Are Read Online Free Page B

acknowledgement in her face.
    My breath stopped in my chest and I swallowed. ‘Come on, we need to get you home. Can you stand for me?’
    Slowly, she nodded.
    I helped her up and half walked, half carried her out.
    In the car there were no words from either of us. She rested her forehead against the window, watching yellow lights go by.
    The clock on the dashboard said 05:48.
    As we approached the house I saw that the Mercedes was back. I opened the car door for her and walked her to the front door. Pat answered on the second ring of the bell, stood up too straight in his suit, looking as though he was trying his hardest not to lean on anything.
    Clare left my side and slapped him.
    He didn’t say anything, didn’t even meet her eyes.
    She looked him up and down, her lip shaking, and walked inside.
    I could still smell her perfume on my clothes.
    Pat took a long breath through his nose and said, ‘You Nic?’
    I nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’
    His face contorted. ‘You can… you can go… I’ll call you.’
    As I walked back down their path I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head. An unforgiving wind started howling and when I got into my car the temperature read –4. No one was going to find comfort tonight.

3
    When I woke up I could feel sunlight on my face and my eyelids were encrusted with sleep. My shoulders were aching, propped up with cushions, and when I managed to prise my eyes open I realized I had fallen asleep on the sofa.
    I sat up and Emma’s diary slid off my stomach on to the floor.
    â€˜Ah, fuck.’
    I looked at my watch.
    â€˜
Wo
.’
    It was almost midday and the shock propelled me to my feet. I wavered, blinking, until the room came into enough focus for me to locate my mobile on the coffee table. There were no messages from Russia. My flatmate, Mark Chester, had been away for over a month now and I only had five texts to show for it.
    I turned in the direction of the kitchen for coffee, decided that I didn’t have time, and went into the bathroom instead. It wasn’t good. I had a meeting with Edie Franco about a new job in forty-five minutes, and turning up looking like the casualty of a cheap stag weekend wasn’t how I wanted to project my professional image.
    â€˜Jesus…’
    I dashed some water on my face, took off my shirt and noticed I’d written something on the back of my hand.
    â€˜Who is K?’
    A recent section of Emma’s diary came back to me.
    â€˜Went for another p/u with K. Imagining Dad’s face, LOL.’
    I looked at the reminder again before washing it off, and sprayed some deodorant over the lingering smell of sweat and perfume.

    Edie Franco owned one of Mark’s favourite nightclubs: the Underground. Direct, impossibly blonde and built like a Valkyrie, she came across as the sort of woman with whom you would be lucky to survive a sexual encounter. She was winking at forty, but you couldn’t tell.
    I was half an hour late but, as I should have expected, she was later. I managed to drink two cups of coffee at the bar before she arrived with a gust of sleet and freezing wind. She was wearing a red coat that covered everything down to her knees and her handshake was more of a firm stroke.
    â€˜I missed those swimming-pool-blue eyes!’
    â€˜Edie.’ I pulled away briskly after she kissed me on the cheek. ‘You want anything to drink?’
    There was no apology for the time. ‘Coffee, black.’
    I nodded at the barman. ‘I’ll have the same.’
    â€˜Move to the sofas?’ She indicated her head and started walking.
    I followed her to a spot away from the doors and sat down opposite her. It felt better to have a table between us.
    â€˜Haven’t heard from you in a while?’ I said.
    â€˜Life’s been sweet, what can I say? You get married, you have a kid, you open a club, you think about another kid…’ She crossed her legs,