The dark side of my soul Read Online Free Page A

station to confess her crime but I could not see the future, could not envisage the evil that was to come, that would engulf us and tear us apart.
    When Sandra came downstairs she looked drained, as though she had not slept at all. My wife was slim and normally looked young for her age but that morning, without makeup and with lines of worry drawn on her face, she appeared much older than her years. Her nightdress was crumpled and her hair was a straggly mess. The dark bags under her eyes emphasised the lack of colour in the rest of her face as she sat almost zombielike at the table.
    I made an early breakfast of boiled eggs and toast and we ate it together in the kitchen. We spoke sparingly, neither of us mentioning the events of the previous day as though that would somehow reawaken the memory. When we had finished eating I washed the dishes while Sandra sat silently at the table. A mood of deep depression had descended on our home that was not easily going to be dispersed.
    At last eight thirty came and I called the number I had found for Terry Bovey. It was some while before the phone was answered by a thin high pitched voice that I recognised immediately as belonging to Terry.
    “Boveys,” he said sounding slightly out of breath.
    “Hello Terry. It’s Harry Conrad. It’s been a long time.” I wondered if he would remember me but his reply left me in no doubt.
    “Hey, yeah, sure has been a while .How you doin’?”
    “I’m okay. You’re not listed in the book. I wondered if you were still working.”
    “Sure, yeah, still here, thanks to you I guess. Same workshop, same problems, same shitty customers, but I can’t complain. Work’s still coming in and to tell the truth I don’t want too much now. I’m getting older so I just stick to my regulars and don’t advertise any more, no need, enough people know me anyway. What can I do for you?”
    “It’s good to hear you’re still operating because I need a little work done to my car. I’d like it done as soon as possible. I don’t expect any favours. I am prepared to pay.”
    “What is it?”
    “I drove straight into something yesterday and damaged the front section. I haven’t told my wife and I don’t want her to know. If she finds out she’ll never let me live it down. That’s why I want the job done quickly. It’s a Ford Fiesta, about three years old.” Lying seemed to be becoming my second nature.
    “What kind of something did you hit?” Suspicion was creeping into his irritating squeaky voice.
    “Er, it was an animal, run straight across the road in front of me.”
    “An animal. What kind of animal?”
    “A badger, I think it was a badger.”
    “You think, aren’t you sure?”
    “Well it was getting dark. I was so shook up that I didn’t stop.”
    There was a pause. “It wasn’t that old woman who was killed yesterday by the hit and run driver, the one that was on the news. That was out your way wasn’t it?”
    The sudden assertion took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected him to make the connection and for a second I froze. I tried to recover quickly but it was already too late, the short delay enough to indicate, in his mind at least, that I was the person to whom he had referred. I tried to cover my mistake with a hearty laugh but even to me it sounded false. “No, no of course not, it was definitely a badger.”
    “Definitely, I thought you said you weren’t sure.”
    “Well it certainly wasn’t a woman, of that I am sure. It was an animal of some kind.” I was becoming flustered. I had not expected so many questions.
    “Where?”
    “What?”
    “Whereabouts did you hit it, in a country lane?”
    “Christ Terry does it matter?”
    More slow interminable seconds ticked by before he replied. “No I guess not.”
    “Can you help me?” I must have sounded desperate and at that point I realised that he had guessed the truth.
    This time an even longer delay preceded his reply. “Listen, because of that hit and run