Читать книгу Don’t Say a Word - A. L. Bird - Страница 7

Prologue

The doorbell rings. Josh runs towards it.

‘No, wait, sweetie, remember!’ I shout after him.

‘It’s fine, Mum, it’ll just be the postman!’

‘No, Josh, let me!’

I run up behind him. But he’s already taking off the chain, opening the door. Please let it be the postman.

Yes, it is. False alarm. I see the retreating uniform of a blue shirt and baseball cap. Stop, beating heart. Not every morning is a drama. I kiss Josh on the forehead.

‘OK, Josh, it was the postman. But next time it might not be, all right? So let me open the door.’

I lead us back to the kitchen to resume breakfast-making activities, musing at how, even in a situation like this one, ten-year-olds can find post so engrossing – no bills to pay, I guess.

But then I realize Josh isn’t following. I turn round.

His face is white.

‘You’ve got a postcard,’ he says. ‘From Chloe Brown.’

The peanut butter jar drops from my hand.

‘Josh, let me see.’

He hands me the postcard, wide-eyed.

Yes, there’s the name. Chloe Brown. Printed clearly, so there’s no mistaking it. The message just says: ‘See you soon.’

I turn over to the picture. It’s a small boy, on a bike. My stomach twists. I flip back to the name again. And that’s when I see. There’s a stamp, but no postmark. Where the postmark should be, it’s written: ‘By hand.’

‘Mum, I don’t think it was really the postman. I think it was …’ He trails off.

We both know who it was. And that Josh isn’t safe.