A. Bird - Don’t Say a Word - A gripping psychological thriller from the author of The Good Mother

Oh, lovely Daniel. I can picture him now. In fact yes, I can – I pull up his profile shot on his chambers’ website.

He’s younger then – when he first got called to the bar, I bet. Clean-shaven still, not yet the confident permissive stubble of a man who’s made it. No empathy lines round the eyes yet, or mouth. But all the good signs in that smile and frank gaze that they will appear. Brown hair that is just brown – no coppers or goldens or anything fancy like that. Not a posh twat, Daniel. Lawyerly, yes. Decent, polite, yes. Well spoken, true – doesn’t drop the ‘t’ in Luton. But he went to his local comp like the rest of us. He mentions that, on the site. No names, but we get the message: normality. Not some private-school tosser.

But why is he calling? The case, yes, but I haven’t even had a briefing from Tim yet.

Could it be personal?

I should call him. Or is that going to be too awkward? Damn it. Bloody Tim not telling me more about the case – or I could fall back on that. Maybe I should wait until I’ve spoken to Tim?

But it would be good, wouldn’t it, after the window scare of lunchtime to hear a safe voice. An almost-friend voice? The voice of someone to whom I came very close to disclosing some of my shit. Too close. I had to rein it back.

I listen to the message again, then hit ‘call this sender’ before I can rethink it.

‘Earl Court Chambers?’ says a voice.

Oh. Of course. The clerks, not a direct dial.

‘Hi. It’s Jen Sutton from Rotham Wyatt. Is Daniel Farley around?’

‘Jen, good to hear from you. Dan’s been missing you!’

Oh good, so there’s clerks’ room gossip about us. Over nothing. How nice.

‘Ha, yes, well, the feeling’s mutual.’ Can’t explain it’s because of the case, I guess, if it’s so secret.

‘Let me put you through to Dan.’

There’s a silence, out of which emerges some Mozarty stuff. Then a voice.

‘Jen, hi!’

‘Hi, Daniel.’

Silence.

‘So I got your –’

‘I left you a –’

Over-keen laughter as we each start then stop sentences simultaneously. I can see that happening for the whole phone call.

‘You go,’ I tell Daniel. ‘You know why you were calling.’

‘Sure, fine,’ he says. He doesn’t sound fine. He sounds strangled, choked. Then he lets a bit of breath out. ‘Listen, Jen – I just wanted to say, really looking forward to working with you again. I know there was a bit of …’

He stumbles. I catch him.

‘Stuff?’ I say.

‘OK, yeah. Stuff. There was a bit of “stuff” last time but don’t worry about it, OK. I’m genuinely looking forward to working with you again.’

Me too, I think. But I don’t fill the silence, in case there are more words to come.

More silence.

‘OK, well anyway,’ he continues, ‘this case looks like a really intense one. I don’t know if you’ve seen the exhibits file yet. It’s –’

‘I’m looking forward to working with you, too, Daniel.’

There’s another pause. A baby pause.

‘Thanks, Jen.’ His voice is softer now. Less manic. ‘I’m glad.’

‘We’ll speak soon, OK? On the case.’

‘Yes, on the case.’

I want to say: ‘And on more “stuff” too.’ But I don’t.

‘Bye, then,’ I say instead.

‘Bye.’

We hang up.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. It’s times like this I wish it wasn’t so tricky being me. That I could simply have ended the call by suggesting a drink. It’s not just the childcare angle. It’s the caring for my child. The guard goes down slowly, slowly, slowly. Otherwise how do you know who you can trust?

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.