The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,16
Kirsty entered the room. She went to kiss him on the cheek but he shuffled away awkwardly and stuck out his hand. Bemused, she shook it.
‘I like what you’ve done to this room,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’
‘Still, you couldn’t go far wrong with a place like this. Nice straight walls. Very solid.’
‘…Yes.’
Half-an-hour later the six of them were seated around the table. They made smalltalk and everyone complimented Kirsty on the food; there was a brief discussion about vegetarianism, Kirsty fending off the usual questions about whether she ate fish or chicken; the wine and conversation might not have flowed easily, but it was steady and there were no awkward silences. Kirsty started to relax, and, seeing her do so, Jamie winked at her across the table. He touched her foot gently with his.
Lucy told them about her job – about the old people and their peculiar habits, including the old lady who wrote phrases like ‘Piss off’ on pieces of card and flashed them at the other residents if they annoyed her (a kind of non-verbal Tourette’s Syndrome) – and Paul asked Chris what he did for a living.
‘I work for Scion Systems, the computer company.’
‘Oh right,’ said Jamie. ‘I saw the Scion logo on your T-shirt when you were gardening.’
‘Jamie’s in computing too,’ said Kirsty.
‘I work for ETN,’ he confirmed.
Lucy beamed. ‘That’s amazing. We girls are both in healthcare–’
‘And me,’ said Heather.
‘–and the boys work with computers. We’re such kindred spirits. Amazing.’ She had already drunk a couple of large glasses of red wine and Jamie noticed with amusement that there was a slight slur to her words.
‘I’m the odd one out,’ said Paul, ‘being a mere banker.’ Paul worked for one of the High Street banks, a job he hated.
Heather leaned across the table and lightly pinched his cheek. ‘You’re always the odd one.’
Paul blushed.
‘Even the woman upstairs is in health,’ Jamie said.
‘What, Mary?’ said Lucy, putting down her wine glass. ‘I’d hardly call what she does health.’
‘What does she do?’ asked Heather, who hadn’t come across Mary before.
Jamie said, ‘She’s a herbalist.’
‘Is that what she calls it?’ said Lucy. ‘I’d describe her as a witch.’
Chris nudged her. ‘Lucy…’
But all eyes were fixed on Lucy now. Jamie laughed and said, ‘A witch? But her cat isn’t even black.’
Lucy wasn’t laughing. ‘It’s not funny, Jamie. There’s something about her I don’t like. She gives me the creeps. I’d hate to know what kind of things she gets up to all alone in their flat. She gets some very strange-looking mail, from people like the Pagan Society, and the Society of Wiccans.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I’ve seen it. Our post often gets delivered through the communal front door, even though we have our own letter box, so I have to come up and check. I’ve seen Mary’s letters. And I’ve also seen the way she looks at me. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s up there right now, carrying out some sort of black magic ritual. Pulling the legs off spiders as she chants a spell.’
‘Oh God, don’t,’ said Kirsty. ‘Just the mention of spiders makes me shiver.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Everyone looked at the ceiling, then Paul spluttered with laughter. ‘The Blair Witch comes to Mount Pleasant Street. Maybe this building is haunted by dead children.’
‘Paul!’ Kirsty protested. ‘That’s not in very good taste.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ Both Kirsty and Heather were giving him filthy looks; it wasn’t the best comment to make in front of two nurses who worked in a children’s ward. Lucy, too, was perturbed by his comment. She stared into the remains of her meal, a tense expression on her face.
‘How long has Mary lived here?’ Jamie asked.
Chris answered: ‘She was here before we moved in.’
Jamie thought that Lucy was tense because no-one had taken her comments seriously. Feeling the need to humour her and make her feel better, he said, ‘And have you ever seen any evidence that she’s into witchcraft? Because I went up there and she seemed like a bit of a hippy, but definitely nothing worse.’
Heather said, ‘This is getting surreal. Can we change the subject?’
‘Yes!’ said Kirsty, standing up quickly. ‘Who wants dessert?’
‘Yes please,’ said Paul.
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Jamie.
In the kitchen, Jamie whispered, ‘How do you think it’s going?’
‘Quite well, I think. Apart from that stuff about Mary. What was all that about?’
Jamie shook his head. ‘I think Lucy’s a bit drunk. Chris seems like an OK bloke, though. It’s spooky, isn’t it, that we all have such similar jobs.’