Читать книгу The Last Lie: The must-read new thriller from the Sunday Times bestselling author - Alex Lake, Alex Lake - Страница 18

Claire swayed as the Tube train pulled out of the station. She glanced at her watch. Alfie should be with Dr Singh now. She’d wanted to go with him but she had a meeting with a client at eight. They were working on the product launch of a new flask, and they still hadn’t settled on the design. It was getting late in the project so they had fired their original designers and come to Claire’s firm. Part of the problem was the brief; they wanted something urban and sleek, but rugged and tough. It wasn’t immediately obvious how to incorporate all those things, but she had some ideas.

She got off at her Tube stop and her phone rang. It was Jodie.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘What’s up?’

Jodie didn’t answer. Instead she made the sound of someone blowing out their cheeks in frustration.

‘That good?’ Claire said. ‘Fill me in.’

‘It’s Pippa. She’s driving me nuts.’

It took Claire a moment to place the name, but then it came to her. Pippa was the friend whose boyfriend had broken up with her by text. ‘What’s she doing?’

‘She’s moved in. She can’t bear to be alone. And all she talks about is Henry fucking Bryant—’

‘He’s the guy who broke up with her by text?’

‘The very same, and I never want to hear his name again. I didn’t get to bed until one a.m. last night. She was telling me how she loved him and she’d been convinced he was the one and she didn’t know what she’d done wrong, she simply couldn’t understand how he’d changed from one day to the next, and didn’t I think it was weird? And maybe there was something else going on with him because he hadn’t been answering her texts or calls; he could have been taken ill or something bad had happened to him which was the real reason he’d dumped her and so maybe there was a chance they could get back together after all.’ Jodie paused and took a deep breath. ‘I get it, Claire, I really do, and I feel sorry for her. It’s horrible to be dumped – we’ve all been there – and you get trapped in a cycle of wondering if you messed up in some way or other, but this is extreme. I mean, if she’s like this it’s no wonder he wanted out.’

‘Or that he did it by text,’ Claire said. ‘He probably knew how she’d react. Not that it’s an excuse. He should have told her to her face.’

‘Yeah, he should. But that doesn’t help me. She was up at five this morning, which meant I was too, ready for another few hours of speculation about why Henry Bryant had broken up with her. What am I going to do?’

‘It’ll pass. She’ll get over it.’

‘But in the meantime it’s torture.’

‘Take her out. Meet some new guys.’

‘I’d feel bad inflicting her on them.’

Claire laughed. ‘Then you’ll just have to get her to move out in a kind and gentle way. Tell her she’s welcome to stay for a while longer but you’re busy at work and you need your space. Don’t do it by text, though.’

Jodie gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Maybe I should. It might work. Or I’ll tell her I’m going on a business trip and come to stay with you guys.’

‘Sure. Do whatever you need.’ Claire checked the time on her phone. ‘Anyway, I have to run. I have a meeting.’

‘OK. And thanks for the advice, although I’m not sure I’m much closer to a solution. I feel better for venting though. By the way, I’ve got some good photos of us at the party. I’ll send them over.’

They hung up and, a few seconds later, Claire’s phone buzzed. Jodie had sent two photos from her birthday party: one of her and Jodie and Alfie standing together and one of Alfie singing the song he’d written, with her dad in the background looking at him in mild disgust.

Here you go, the message said. Look at your dad! Not sure what he thinks of the song! I’m sure he likes Alfie, but they’re so different. Anyway, thought you’d get a kick out of this.

Claire laughed and walked towards the office. As she turned on to Haymarket there was a busker singing ‘Father and Son’. She stopped to listen. She’d forgotten about Alfie but the song reminded her where he was. It was a good omen, a sign the appointment was going well. She smiled and reached into her bag for some change. All she had was a twenty-pound note. For a second she hesitated, but then she bent down and threw it into the guitar case. She had to. She had a sudden sense that it was all linked and she couldn’t ignore the fact there was a busker singing a song about a father right at the point Alfie was with Dr Singh. She had to give to receive.

The busker looked at the note lying among a scattering of coins. He grinned at her.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘And good luck.’

She turned away and headed up the street, smiling so much it was almost painful.

This was it. This was the day it all fell into place.