The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,50
table over the other side of the restaurant, close to the kitchens. They didn’t look over at Jamie and Kirsty. Jamie thought they looked a little tense and on edge. Maybe they weren’t used to eating out. Something about they way Chris studied the menu; the way that Lucy was ever-so-slightly overdressed for this modest backstreet Indian: it pointed to the fact that they weren’t sure of the etiquette or the rules. They were more used to dining at home.
‘Do you think they followed us?’ Kirsty whispered, leaning across the table, not taking her eyes off her neighbours.
Jamie shook his head. ‘No. It’s got to be a coincidence. I mean, this is the local Indian, after all. Most people who live around here come to this place. Although they don’t look like they’ve ever been here before.’
Chris was looking around, apparently studying the decor, and he looked straight over and caught Jamie’s eye. Jamie immediately broke contact, fixing his vision on the tablecloth.
‘They’ve seen us,’ he said, and Kirsty looked over to find both Chris and Lucy gazing back at her.
‘Shit. Did Chris look surprised to see you?’
‘No. No, he didn’t. Not at all.’
They let that fact sink in. Kirsty glanced over and saw that the waiter was standing by the Newtons’ table, taking their order. Then Lucy stood up and followed the waiter out to the kitchens.
‘What’s she doing?’
‘God knows.’
‘Do you think she’s friends with them?’
‘Maybe she’s an undercover health inspector.’ He laughed. ‘Actually, I expect she’s asked if she can see the kitchen, so she can make sure everything’s hygienic.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘Of course. Some people are really paranoid about that sort of thing.’
Kirsty sighed. ‘We’re supposed to be here to celebrate my pregnancy, and to get away from our neighbours, and here we are, looking at them, talking about them as always. You know how some people only have one topic of conversation – their children or their pets or their job – and everyone finds them really boring? Well, that’s us – except we go on about our neighbours.’
‘Do you want to go somewhere else?’
‘No. Don’t be silly. We’ve started eating now. And I’m not going to let them drive us away. No way.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. She did have spirit. That was one of the things that had first attracted him to her. He had been out with weak girls before, girls who lacked that spark of defiance, that ironic glint in the eye that marked Kirsty out. He knew that Kirsty would never let anyone walk all over her. She wouldn’t take anything lying down. She was strong – and right now he needed someone like that. Because there were moments when he felt like giving up, and in those moments he looked at his girlfriend and drew strength from her. He honestly didn’t know what he would do without her.
‘Kirsty,’ he said, tentatively. ‘Now that we’re having this baby, do you think that, well, that we should get married?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Is that a proposal?’
‘I don’t know. It’s a question.’ He paused, looking into her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. ‘It’s just that, I don’t know, maybe it would be the proper thing to do if we’re going to have a child.’
‘Proper?’
‘Yes. Or is that horribly uncool of me?’
She laughed, then stopped and looked at him. He’d been drinking champagne and lager. He’d had an intensely emotional day. But the way he was looking at her…
‘Are you serious? Absolutely? One hundred per cent?’
‘One hundred per cent.’
‘I don’t know if it’s the right reason to do it – because it’s proper.’
‘Kirsty, the reason I want to marry you is because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s it.’
She took a bite of poppadum, swallowed it, took a sip of her drink. ‘OK then.’
He looked into her eyes, trying to work out if she was being serious. ‘Is that a yes?’
‘It sure is.’
He got up, came round the table and hugged her, kissing her, tasting spices on her lips. What a day. He looked over at the Newtons – Lucy had come back from the kitchens, and she and Chris were sitting staring at each other, their lips not moving, no conversation between them – and he thought, Fuck them. Nobody can make me unhappy. Not now. Not tonight. He was drunk and sentimental. He thought: I’m having a child, I’m marrying the woman I want