Tania Carver - The Surrogate

Sophie nodded, gave a grim smile. ‘Yeah. He does that all right. That’s why most of my girlfriends want to meet me in town now.’

Clayton said nothing.

‘I’m not saying I don’t enjoy it; it’s just… I like to pick and choose, you know?’

‘You like to be in control.’

This smile wasn’t grim but teasing. ‘Sometimes…’ She leaned across the seat towards him, whispered in his ear. ‘But sometimes I do like to do what I’m told. If it’s the right person telling me…’

Clayton could feel his erection springing up immediately. She moved in closer to him, licking the side of his neck. Goosebumps ran over his skin. He couldn’t sit comfortably. Her hand was on his chest now, smoothing down the front of his shirt, heading down towards his belt buckle…

‘No…’ It sounded like someone else had borrowed his voice and was doing a bad, timid impression of him.

‘That’s not what your body’s saying.’

He gasped as she found his erection. ‘I can’t…’

‘Sshh… I won’t tell anyone.’ She eased his zip down. ‘And neither will you, will you?’

‘Wh-what?’ He thought she had said something important but he didn’t know what it was. There was also something else he should be thinking about, something important. but he couldn’t remember. He could only concentrate on one thing at a time.

‘I said,’ said Sophie, working her hand into his trousers, ‘you won’t tell anyone, will you? About meeting me, about anything I’ve told you… You’ll keep my name out of it, won’t you?’

He felt her hand gripping him tight, working him up and down. She began to lower her head into his lap.

‘Will you?’ she said, looking up, eyes staring directly into his.

There was no love in those eyes. No warmth. Just calculated professionalism. His lust mirrored.

‘No,’ he said between gasps. ‘No…’

She lowered her head. He closed his eyes.

Anni Hepburn was cold. She had taken over from the Birdies over half an hour ago, having asked for the job specifically. Sometimes she got so hyped about a case that Phil gave in to her, let her put her energy to use.

But despite remembering to wrap up warm, she was still cold. She couldn’t put the car heater on in case it ran the battery down. The same with the radio. She knew they all did it, but if she needed to get away quickly and the battery was dead, the whole investigation could collapse and she would be in trouble. And she didn’t want that. So she sat there, several layers of clothing wrapped tightly round her, staring at the house.

Scrap metal must pay, she thought. Nice house. Not her style, and bigger than she would be able to afford. Unless she married a scrap metal merchant, obviously. Though if they were all like Ryan Brotherton, she wouldn’t bother.

She was just wondering how she was going to entertain herself for the next few hours to stop herself from falling asleep when a car approached. She sat up immediately, watching. The car came to an abrupt halt, then continued round the corner, away from the house. She sat back again. Probably nothing, she thought. But she would keep watching, just in case.

The lights on the car were turned off, but no one emerged. Strange, she thought. Maybe another car had been sent on surveillance. Not a BMW, though. Hardly a pool car.

She watched, waited. There were two people in there; she could make that out from the silhouettes. Then there was movement, the silhouettes rearranging themselves, one moving to the other side.

Oh God, she thought. Doggers.

She shook her head, tried not to watch as the woman’s head disappeared under the dashboard and the man threw his back in ecstasy. If she had been feeling difficult she could have walked over, tapped on the window, flashed the warrant card and put the fear of God into them. But she was on surveillance. Still, it was tempting. Not because of the law-breaking aspect, but because it was so long since she had been in a relationship or had any real excitement along those lines and she was jealous.

She and Clayton had almost been an item. A work attraction, that kind of thing.They had gone for a drink a few nights ago. Just to see whether the fact that they got on so well was because they were friends who worked together, or if there was something more. Jesus, was it only a couple of nights ago? Felt like ages. And yes, she had gone back to his flat. And yes, they had had sex. Or something approaching sex. It wasn’t very good. And afterwards they both knew it was something they had done more out of a sense of duty to each other than from anything approaching burning passion. The next day had been surprisingly easy and they had laughed it off as a bad idea. And that was that. The question had been answered. They were friends who worked together. Nothing more. She didn’t want it to develop any further. Besides, she knew what he was like, knew his reputation. She didn’t want to be just another conquest of his. Someone else to show off to the lads about down the pub. Just leave it at that.

As she watched, the silhouettes separated. The one in the passenger seat made some adjustments and rearrangements and got out. Anni reached for the binoculars. A thrill ran through her. The woman she was watching matched the description of Ryan Brotherton’s girlfriend, Sophie.

‘You two-timing bitch,’ she said to herself, laughing.

She watched as Sophie walked to the front gates, let herself in, walked up the driveway and into the house.

She turned her attention to the car. The headlights came back on and it turned round, ready to come past her and drive away. She raised the binoculars to her eyes, tried to get a look at the driver as it went.

‘Oh my God…’

Clayton. Unmistakably Clayton.

Her mind was racing. She reached quickly for her phone, ready to make a call. Who to, she didn’t know. Phil? Clayton himself? And say what? Ask what was going on?

She sighed, put the phone down. No. She would wait until the morning, have a word with him.

She sat there, still watching the house, not expecting anything more to happen. Her mind was racing. She was no longer cold. She was hot.

And angry.

Clayton was with another woman so soon after her. The fact that there was nothing between the pair of them wasn’t important. It showed a lack of respect. And it wasn’t just that – the woman he was with was involved in a murder inquiry. And that was serious.

There would be no sleep now.

She sat there watching. Planning.

W hat you doin’ standin’ here in the dark?

Hester jumped at the voice, opened her eyes.

‘I’m…’ She didn’t know. What was she doing standing there in the dark? She looked down. The baby was in its cot where she had left it. She was standing over it. ‘I’m lookin’ at the baby.’

In the dark?

She blinked. Unaware of how long she had been standing there. She must have blacked out again. ‘It… wasn’t dark when I started lookin’ at it.’

Her husband grunted. You made my dinner?

‘It’s…’ She looked again at the baby. It wasn’t moving, its breathing shallow. But it was peaceful.

Well?

She looked at the kitchen area. ‘I’ll get it for you.’

Disorientated from her blackout, she pulled the blanket up to the baby’s chin, being careful not to wake it, and ignited the Calor Gas heater. Then she switched on the light over the baby’s head. She had rigged up one of the electrician’s work lamps at the side of the cot, clamping it to the bedhead so she could see the baby from wherever she was in the house. The lamp threw down hard light and heat. It illuminated the baby all right, but she could also see the condensation on the bare brick and stone, glistening and running above the heater. The house would soon be warm enough, she thought. The baby was wrapped well enough.