Читать книгу Obsession: The bestselling psychological thriller with a shocking ending - Amanda Robson, Amanda Robson - Страница 29

Breakfast in our modern townhouse, sitting at our kitchen table. Eating Weetabix. Sipping Nescafé. The boys are plastering crumbs from croissants on the floor, on the table, and on their faces instead of eating them. Jenni is sitting next to me. I smell her scent; patchouli oil. I think Jenni is becoming very suspicious of my comings and goings. Her eyes have started to swivel too often as she checks my movements. Last time I came back from seeing Carly she made a very pointed comment about how often I was showering. Yesterday morning when I came out of the bathroom she was scrolling through my iPhone. When I asked her what she was doing she said it had buzzed and she was just checking whether anything important had come in. I checked my phone later and I know she was lying. No incoming messages of any kind.

Now as I slurp the end of my Weetabix, her toffee eyes dart towards mine.

‘Craig, would you mind picking up Dad’s repeat prescription from the surgery? You’ll be walking past on the way to the fire station, won’t you?’

My father-in-law is living with us at the moment. Or rather co-existing. He is so bereft without Jenni’s mother that to say he is living would be an exaggeration. He is sitting in the living room area of our open plan room in front of the TV, nibbling a piece of toast. I turn my head to look across at him. I don’t think he’s watching the news. His eyes are hollow and empty. I guess the news is just moving across the screen in front of him.

I stand up and smile at Jenni. ‘Of course I’ll pop to the surgery. That’s fine.’

Ten minutes later, I arrive at the surgery, head down, hoping to avoid Carly. The situation between us is becoming dangerous. I sidle in and mumble to the first receptionist who is free, a mousy woman with thick glasses and iron grey shoulder-length woolly hair. For a second she makes me think about sheep.

‘I’ve come to collect a repeat prescription for my father-in-law.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Stuart Tunnicliffe.’

She flicks through the pile of prescriptions in the box in front of her, and soon hands me Jenni’s father’s.

‘The doctor’s given him three months’ supply. Then he needs to come in and have his blood pressure checked again.’

She hands me the prescription and gives me a half smile in dismissal. Before I can turn around and slip out quickly, Carly is standing in front of me looking Carly Burton Bright, Carly Burton Delicious. Her short blonde hair shines in the autumn sunshine that pushes towards us through the window. Her blue nurse’s uniform looks as if it has been painted onto her perfect figure.

‘Craig Rossiter, isn’t it?’ she asks.

‘Yes.’

‘I was about to telephone you. Please come to my consulting room. We need to discuss your blood test result.’

She leads the way. Despite my best intentions, I follow her. Through the waiting room, into her domain. Once we are inside she closes the door, turns a key, and locks it. She closes the venetian blinds.

‘I need to give you an urgent check-up,’ she says as she slides her hand down my trousers.

I push my tongue into her mouth and tell myself once again, this has to stop.