Valentina: A Hauntingly Intelligent Psychological Thriller Read Online Free

sat around on the floor and the whole place held the whiff of off milk, biscuits and, I have to say it, deodorised poo. A stick-thin woman of about fifty with a millipede of grey at the roots of her dull brown hair introduced herself as the manager and ticked off Isla’s name in the diary. There was a fuss then over Zac – they had no record of him ever being booked to come in.
    Valentina leant over the countertop and ran her finger down the diary. “I spoke to a girl last week. She must’ve forgotten to write it down.” She straightened up, stood quite still and said nothing more, simply continued to look in the most incredibly direct way at the manager, as if performing some ancient Eastern mind trick.
    “ I suppose we can fit him in,” the manager said, shrinking, turning her attention back to me and prising Isla from my grasp as you’d remove scissors from a small child. “It’s good to leave them early while they barely notice.”
    I didn’t want Isla to barely notice. I couldn’t have said how I wanted her to react, to be honest. But as the manager carried her away, my wee girl didn’t cry at all and I was troubled by the sight of her in a stranger’s arms – so placid, so trusting.
    We were shooed out then, Valentina and I, as if the two of us were already friends. The heavy wooden door closed behind us. The sound of children that had lingered in the hallway died.
    “ It’ll get easier, don’t worry,” Valentina said, her bouncing voice summery and light. “It’s hard for you, not her. Zac’s always had childcare and I’ve heard really good things about this place.”
    “ How old’s Zac?”
    “ Four months.”
    “ Same as Isla.”
    “ Cool!” Her eyes really were a peculiar shade of green. Like wet parsley – verdant but dark.
    “ I just want to go back and get her.” Heat rose in my face. I looked away, blinking hard. “I’ve never left her before and it’s … I don’t have family here and my partner goes away with his work, you know, and we live out in the country, I mean, I’m not saying ... the cottage is beautiful and everything but it’s ... it’s remote, you know, and if I’m honest I’m finding it harder than I thought I would and I thought Isla might ... but now I’m not so sure ...”
    Valentina laid her hand on my arm. “Listen, do you want to grab a coffee?”
    I met her gaze. “I would love that.”
     
    Meeting Valentina that day reminded me a lot of the first time I met Mikey. There was the same flirtatious energy spreading like peacock feathers at our backs, the same good humoured testing each other out. Since the night before last, when my life ended, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’ve done nothing but think, to be honest, about all sorts of things and meeting Mikey is one of them.
    I’d gone to a panto with my pal, Jean, whom I was renting a room off at the time. Jeanie’s about ten years older than me. A senior journalist, she’d been my mentor when I’d first joined The Tribune . She’s funny and kind and has the sharpest nose for a story I’ve ever known. She’s the type of person people cross the room for, just so they can tell her their craic, or a new joke, and have the pleasure of making her laugh. That’s how much everyone loves Jeanie.
    She had come over to my desk earlier that day and said her big brother, Robbie, was in an amateur production of Peter Pan at St. Matthew’s Church in Bishopriggs, did I want to go along. At the time I was newly single after a six-month relationship that was never going to be anything had deflated like a tyre with a slow puncture.
    “ Ach, no thanks Jeanie,” I said. “I’m all right.”
    “ Don’t be a fanny,” she said, picking up my pen and drawing a silly face on my notepad. “We can grab a drink after.”
    “ Who’s Robbie playing?”
    “ Mr. Smee. The fat bastard, you know? Come on, Shona. It might be a load of shite but it’s better than moping at home on your own.”
    Typical