Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,42

sensible people are snug in front of the fire at this time in the evening.’

She laughed, zipping up her tracksuit top. ‘This is early for me. I usually start after midnight. That’s when the night is just beginning.’

I slapped my gloved hands together to generate some heat.

‘Glad to see you’re wearing layers,’ she said. ‘You can strip off and tie your top round your waist as we warm up.’

‘You’re kidding me. I’m keeping everything on.’ I was shivering and we weren’t even exposed to the elements yet.

She pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket. ‘Miranda gave me a list of places to try: pubs, clubs, restaurants. Some of the notices are fliers, so we can leave a pile each time, others are posters we want people to display.’ Emily glanced down at her list. ‘Let’s do the places around here first as a warm-up, then we can run properly to the next ones.’

‘Okay. I’m in your hands.’

Still undercover, she took me through a set of stretches. ‘Got any injuries I should know about, or muscles that tweak if you run for a bus?’

‘No, nothing I can think of. Just unfit.’ I felt my bones creak as my arms flailed towards my shoelaces. I let out a telltale grunt and she laughed before hoisting her heavy rucksack onto her back.

‘You need to give me half the posters to carry,’ I said, ‘you can’t take all of them.’

‘No way. This is your first time. What have you got in your backpack?’

‘Water, purse, phone. That’s all.’

‘Good. Never more than that. Let’s powerwalk to get going.’ With that, she shot out ahead of me. The rain had broken through and was dancing off the pavement with a velocity that made me want to stay exactly where I was.

She turned. ‘Let’s go.’

Reluctantly, I joined her, striding out fast to keep up. Cars roared past us, their wheels making a sound like cymbals, as they crashed through the puddles already collecting at the side of the road.

We covered the first few venues on Emily’s list: two delis, a cinema and a late-opening vegan café. Half seemed happy to help, the others muttered excuses. I don’t think the owner allows this… No room on the counter… Sorry, we’re too busy…

We ran between the next cluster of businesses: a library, two hotels, a community centre, more pubs and late-opening shops.

‘How are you doing?’ she asked, stopping to take a swig of water from her bottle.

‘Not bad.’ I was a bit out of breath, but not struggling. I bent over, holding my knees to ease my aching back. ‘It’s bitty though, isn’t it?’

‘I know. What if we take a good run without stopping. I can finish off the rest of the posters during the daytime tomorrow.’

‘I can’t let you do that. I’m supposed to be helping.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll do a good job, believe me. You won’t find them stuffed in the bins! Then we can meet tomorrow night, if you’re still keen – and run properly without the breaks. You’ll ache, but we’ll build up slowly.’

I straightened up, rolled my creaking neck. ‘Let’s see how I get on over a longer stretch first, before I sign on the dotted line.’

She laughed. ‘Sure. You ready?’

Five minutes later and I had to stop. ‘I’ve got a stitch,’ I gasped, as I bent over, clutching my side. ‘Not used to it.’

‘You’re doing really well. Don’t get cold, just walk for a bit.’

We walked and talked, then broke into a gentle jog.

‘You said you mainly run after midnight,’ I said, as we turned into a quiet tree-lined avenue. ‘Do you feel safe on your own?’

‘Absolutely. I reckon it’s probably safer in the small hours of the morning, than it is earlier. That’s been my experience anyway. All the drunks have either gone home or passed out. But I know I can look after myself. I teach self-defence, remember!’

I liked her plucky spirit. In fact, I liked Emily – full stop. She was warm and generous with a no-nonsense approach I’d connected with straight away.

We crossed over the road and set up an easy jog along the back streets.

‘For years, I’ve run at night,’ she said. ‘The later the better. That’s when I come alive. Coursing through the streets, alone, when most people are asleep. There’s nothing like it. So liberating…’

‘I can see that.’ I already felt a sense of other-worldliness; seeing a side to London I’d rarely witnessed, when blinds and curtains are drawn, TVs are on, children are in bed, and