The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,47

most sickening pieces of mail they had received: an invitation to join the National Go-Karting Association. Jamie had marched down to the basement flat and rammed it through their letter box, fighting the temptation to put a brick through their window. The letter had made Kirsty cry, and only a great effort of willpower stopped her from going down and throwing that brick through their window herself.

She hated them. She had never hated anyone before, not like this anyway. She realised it was unhealthy, especially if she was pregnant. It would do her no good to fill her body with hateful poisons, to let malice and spite drip into her bloodstream. She had to stay calm, relax, chill.

And she had to get off this fucking Tube train.

Finally it halted at her stop, and she pushed her way through the hot, closely-crammed bodies onto the platform, where she gulped down air like she had just crossed the desert and the air was fresh water.

As she approached the flat, she saw Jamie’s car. So he was home. She sighed with relief. She had almost begun to convince herself that something terrible had happened to him. Now, though, she wanted to know why he hadn’t turned up at the hospital.

Walking up the path, she spotted Lennon, looking down at her from Mary’s front window. A moment later, Mary appeared at the window. She waved and Kirsty waved back. Mary had bought them an expensive bottle of wine to say thank you to them for feeding Lennon while she was away. Kirsty was glad they had already drunk it, because if her suspicions were right, she wouldn’t be able to drink for a while.

As soon as she got inside, Jamie hurried across the room and hugged her. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I was stuck in a meeting and my phone battery died and I couldn’t find my charger. There’s loads of shit going on at work – they’re saying that this takeover might really be going ahead, and everyone was called into a big meeting that went on all afternoon. I couldn’t get to a phone, and when I did finally escape I called the hospital and they told me you’d already left, so I came straight home.’

She kissed his cheek. ‘It’s OK, Jamie. Don’t worry.’

‘You’re not angry?’

‘Well, you will have to make it up to me.’ She flopped down on the sofa.

He crouched in front of her and unlaced her shoes. ‘A foot massage?’

‘Mmm, that would be lovely. And a cup of tea.’

‘Your wish is my command.’

She leaned back and closed her eyes as he rubbed her heels with his thumbs. It felt good. ‘Any post?’

‘The usual junk. A letter from Oxfam asking why you hadn’t set up the direct debit you’d promised to after you told them you were going to sponsor a child.’

‘Jesus.’

‘And shortly before you got home, a taxi turned up and an extremely pissed-off driver told me he’d been sent here to take a couple to Battersea Dogs Home. When I told him we hadn’t called him and that he’d been hoaxed he wasn’t very happy, to say the least.’

‘Have you written it all down?’

‘Oh yes.’

Kirsty sighed. A broken promise to sponsor a poor child. This had gone beyond the realms of good taste long ago. She took deep breaths to keep her anger at bay, concentrating on the pleasant feelings in her feet as Jamie massaged them. She rested her hands on her stomach. Tomorrow she would go to the doctor, find out for certain. It was about time they had some good news.

Thirteen

Jamie twisted the wire and popped the cork, watched it bounce off the ceiling, stuck the foaming bottle-top in his mouth then poured himself a glass. He kissed Kirsty with champagne-flavoured lips. She held out her own glass.

‘It’s apple juice for you, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, it’s so unfair. Nine months teetotal. I can’t believe it.’

‘Longer if you breastfeed.’

‘God. Don’t remind me.’ But as she said it, she grinned. She hadn’t stopped grinning since the test confirmed her instincts. Apart from five minutes on the way home, when she had sat on a wall on the edge of the park and pondered the enormous changes that were about to happen in their lives. She thought about money, work, sleep, her social life, her figure, and then she dismissed it all and the grin returned. This was what she wanted, more than anything else in the world. She was going to be a mother. What’s