Читать книгу The Verdict - Olivia Isaac-Henry - Страница 9

The Georgian square I’m standing in, the small green, the autumn leaves, all feel distant. Someone is screaming at me.

‘You dozy cow! Look what you’ve done.’

I stare transfixed at the photo link on my phone.

‘It’s all over him. He could be scarred for life.’

I recognise those hills and those beech trees on my screen.

Someone grabs my arm and yanks me backwards.

‘Are you on drugs or something? I said you’ve scalded my son.’

A woman wearing a puffer jacket thrusts her face into mine. I pull away and look down. It’s the toddler from earlier, his red coat stained and dripping with coffee.

‘I … I’m sorry,’ I say.

‘Sorry isn’t good enough.’

She still has hold of my arm.

‘I don’t think he’s hurt.’ It’s Paulo. He gently detaches me from the woman’s grip.

‘What – are you a doctor?’ she says.

Paulo kneels down to the boy. ‘Are you hurt, pal?’ he asks.

‘Wet,’ the boy says.

‘See, he’s just wet. No harm done, eh?’ Paulo says.

‘No thanks to her.’ She glowers at me. ‘Look – she doesn’t even care – high as a kite at eleven o’clock in the morning.’

‘Let me deal with this,’ Paulo says.

He picks up my coffee cup from the ground and pulls me onto the nearest bench. Some survival instinct impels me to place the phone face down on my lap. I sit there, shaking.

‘Bad news?’ Paulo asks.

He glances at the phone. I keep the screen downwards.

‘Yes. I mean no. It’s nothing.’

‘Anything I can do?’

‘Thank you. I’ll just sit for a moment.’

‘Sure.’ He looks concerned. ‘I’ll be over there if you need me.’ He points to his friend.

The mother’s still glaring at me, after he leaves. I think she’s going to come over, but the boy is pulling at her sleeve and pointing at a squirrel running up a tree and she turns away.

I flip the phone over in my lap and press on the link. It takes me to a news website.

Environmental Science students from the University of Surrey have discovered human remains while taking soil samples on the North Downs, just outside Guildford. Police have confirmed that the death is being treated as suspicious but refuse to speculate further.

No further information is being circulated at this time.

I knew this day would come. I always thought I’d face it with grim resolve and a rational, cool pragmatism. It feels like I’ve been hit by a train. My lungs won’t draw air, my limbs are weak and shaky.

I need to act normally. I’ve already been foolish. Paulo might remember this. Tactfully, he’s turned away from me and is talking to his friend. I have to pull myself together. I steady my hand, go to the phone settings and delete the message and browsing history.

Once I’ve managed to stop shaking and am able to breathe, I put the phone in my pocket and walk over to Paulo. He looks up as I approach.

‘Everything all right now?’ he asks.

‘Fine. Sorry about all the drama. Some family trouble, I over-reacted. It’s all good now.’

‘Great,’ he says. ‘See you back at the office.’

A light drizzle has started. Drops slide down my neck. I shiver and turn up my collar. The man I saw outside the Sensuous Bean slips into the nearest newsagent. I’m alert to him now. Is it a coincidence he arrived at the same time as the text? It doesn’t matter. I must act normally – whatever that is.

I have to calm down and think. The shock of the news, the picture of the Downs bathed in golden light, the shaded dells hinting at the darkness, the tightness in my gut – all this has stopped me from asking the most important question. Who sent the text?