The Mistress - Jill Childs Page 0,44

other, which gave his head a lopsided look. His chin and upper lip were dark with stubble. But all this hit me as secondary. I was transfixed by his eyes, hooded and dark and regarding me with a calm, unflinching gaze. They were eyes which looked as if they’d seen sights he could never share.

I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to get any closer. I expected him to turn the key in the ignition at any moment and drive off, leaving me staring after him.

He didn’t. Instead, he pressed a button to disarm the central locking system and gestured to me to come to the passenger door.

I hesitated. His eyes bore into mine.

A moment later, he lowered the electric window.

‘You getting in, or what?’ His voice was low and rasping.

I couldn’t move. I was frightened now, wondering why I didn’t turn and simply run back to the safety of my car in the next street.

‘Offer’s there.’ He shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

The window rose again and he shifted in his seat, turned his eyes down to the book which was open in his large, meaty hands, resting on the steering wheel. The moment his eyes left my face, I felt a sense of release. I breathed again, then looked round. No one.

I crept toward him, reached for the handle, opened the car door and climbed cautiously into the seat beside him, carefully leaving the door ajar, my hand now on the inside handle, so he couldn’t lock it and seal off my escape.

He put down his book again and the eyes slid round to me. His tone was weary. ‘Go on, then.’

The car smelled of old chip fat and stale, greasy meat. A dirty coffee cup sat in the cup holder. A nodding plastic unicorn was stuck to the dashboard, its flank decorated with a glittery rainbow. A St Christopher hung from the rear-view mirror, dangling on a chain. I had the sense that I’d entered not just his car but his hideout, his world.

I moistened my lips and tried to decide how to start. I felt uneasy and far out of my depth. I didn’t understand who he was, why he was here, why I needed to talk to him. There was a latent power in him that frightened and attracted me at the same time. This was a man I wanted on my side, whatever that meant. This was a man who would know the answers to the questions in my head. I sensed his impatience. He seemed to be making a supreme effort to restrain himself.

I took a deep breath. ‘What are you doing here?’

He lifted his book. ‘Reading.’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘But why are you here? I keep seeing you. Hanging around. Waiting in the street. Spying.’

He pulled a face, as if to suggest that what I’d just said really wasn’t very polite.

‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘if I hadn’t wanted you to see me, you wouldn’t have.’

I frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Just that.’

He looked at me levelly. His eyes were a cool grey with streaks of blue and green radiating from the pupils. This close, he looked older than I’d first thought. Sixty, maybe. His skin was heavily creased and although he was lean and muscular, the flesh under his eyes gathered in dark pouches.

‘Why though?’

He pulled a face. ‘It’s my job. That’s all.’

I blinked. ‘Spying on me?’

He looked back, unruffled. ‘On you. On her.’

I hesitated. Everything in his manner was direct. It was impossible not to believe him. But the car, the way he was sitting here all alone, hour after hour, it didn’t make sense to me. ‘Are you a detective?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Not really. Put it this way. What they do is all about justice. I respect that. I used to do that once. But not now. Now I’m about cash. See?’

I said, ‘A private detective?’

‘If you like. Your words, not mine.’

I bit my lip. There was something about him. An edge. A darkness.

I nodded across towards the house. ‘Where are they?’

‘Not there.’

I narrowed my eyes, thinking about Anna. ‘They’re okay, though? Safe?’

He nodded. ‘Safe enough. They won’t be back tonight. Friday. Sleepover. With that little pal of hers.’

‘Clara?’

‘Pigtails. Thin kid. Comes home for tea after school every afternoon till her mum comes for her.’

‘That’s Clara. Clara Higgins.’

‘Right.’ He seemed to make a mental note, slotting away another fact. ‘Well, Friday night, it’s pay-back time. See? Once the mum’s home from work, they troop round to her place. Free wine, free pizza, free film