The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,63

so much that Jamie thought he might go mad if he heard the name once more. But now he could imagine how devastated she was going to be.

‘Why are you acting so cold?’ Jamie asked.

‘Don’t you start, Jamie. That’s exactly what she said.’

‘And don’t you think that’s because it’s true? You were never like this before.’

‘No, I was a poor sap who always let women walk all over me. I was a sad, desperate case. The kind of bloke that women want to be their best friend. I’ve had a lot of time to think since I’ve been in here, and I’ve decided I’m going to change. I’m going to do what I want, and I don’t need some clingy slag holding me back.’

‘Paul–’

‘Paul Paul Paul! Why don’t you all just fuck off and leave me alone.’ His voice got louder. ‘I’m pissed off with people treating me like a sick puppy.’ He was practically shaking now. ‘I’m going to get out of this bed and change my life. And if you don’t like that, I don’t want you in my new life.’

He picked up his magazine and hid his face behind it.

Jamie was so shocked he couldn’t move. It took all his will power to uproot himself and walk out of the room. His legs were shaking; he felt like he’d been slapped hard around the face. Halfway down the corridor, he saw Heather come out of the toilets. He hurried over to her.

Her fringe was damp. Jamie guessed she had just splashed her face to wash away any sign that she had been crying. She looked forlorn, and when she looked at Jamie she almost burst into tears again.

‘Did he tell you?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Come on, let’s go and get a coffee.’

They went to the cafeteria and Jamie bought two coffees. Heather stared at the table, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye or be seen by anyone she knew.

‘Do you want me to fetch Kirsty?’ he asked.

‘No. She doesn’t finish her shift for another hour.’

Jamie stirred brown sugar into his coffee. ‘He told me to fuck off too.’

She looked up, surprised. ‘But you’re his best mate.’

‘So I thought.’

‘How long have you known him?’

He performed a quick mental calculation. ‘Nearly ten years.’

‘He’s changed, hasn’t he.’

Jamie nodded. ‘I’ve never seen him like this before. I’ve never even seen him get angry before, not really.’

‘It’s the accident. It’s done something to him.’ She sniffed. ‘Though Doctor Meer says he hasn’t suffered any brain damage at all. He says he’s responded to all their tests exactly as they’d hoped.’

‘Their tests mean nothing. He’s changed. We don’t need tests to see that. We know him – we know what he was like before. He wasn’t like this.’

Heather thumped the table. ‘Shit. Why did we have to go to that bloody go-karting track that day? Why? If we hadn’t gone, everything would be alright.’

Jamie said nothing. Heather started to cry, producing a damp hankie and pressing it against her eyes. Jamie knew why they had gone go-karting: because Chris had suggested it. Chris had taken them there, and then he had made that other driver crash into Paul. And now Paul had woken up, but he wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the old Paul they all loved. And it was all Chris’s fault. He felt a current of hurt run through his veins; the sour taste of anger on his tongue. It was Chris’s fault. Chris and Lucy. As Heather cried in front of him he thought of all the things they had done and the anger and hurt and hatred boiled and burned inside him.

They were trying to ruin his life.

They wanted to destroy everything he had.

They were threatening his sanity; upsetting his girlfriend; hurting his friends.

But what was he going to do about it?

Seventeen

They had to rush for the train in the end, despite their best efforts to get there in plenty of time. Kirsty had a last-minute packing crisis, ushering Jamie out of the bedroom while she packed her underwear.

‘It’s bad luck to see what knickers your wife will be wearing on your wedding day before the event.’

Jamie laughed. ‘I thought it was bad luck to see the dress.’

‘Yes, well, you’ve already seen that. But I have to keep some semblance of mystique.’

Jamie paced around while Kirsty rifled through her underwear drawer. Finally, she was ready; but the taxi turned up late; and then it got stuck in heavy traffic. It pulled up in front of Euston station with a