The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,7
records each and began the process of transferring the favoured boxes and binbags into the flat. The sun beat down on them and they sweated their T-shirts a darker shade.
‘Almost finished,’ Jamie said, a while later. ‘Just the chest of drawers.’
It was an old chest of drawers that Jamie had bought at an antiques auction. It was made of dark, heavy oak, and Jamie grunted a little as he and Paul lifted it. Paul, who was marginally stronger, went backwards up the path, holding his end up firmly but not being able to see where he was going. Just before Paul reached the front door, Jamie started to say, ‘Look out,’ but it was too late. A woman had come up the concrete steps from the basement flat, and as she reached the path – not really looking where she was going – Paul bumped into her, dropping the chest of drawers and swearing loudly.
The woman stared at him for a second, her expression grim – and then she smiled. Jamie would never forget that sudden change in expression. He had never seen anything like it – not in real life anyway. It was more suited to a cartoon. She smiled, her face relaxed, her brow uncreased. Jamie stared at her for a second, wondering how she had transformed her features from Gorgon to Angel so quickly, then he remembered how to speak.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, then, rather obviously, ‘We’re moving in.’
She looked at Jamie then at Paul.
‘Not me,’ Paul said.
‘No, my girlfriend and me. I’m Jamie. You must be Lucy?’
She was in her early- to mid-thirties and had blonde hair scraped back and fastened by a grip. Her skin was very pale and smooth; she had no laughter lines around her eyes, even when she smiled like she was smiling now. She was as tall as Jamie – five foot eleven – and broad-shouldered. If Jamie had had to pick one word to describe her it would have been ‘Amazonian’.
‘Lucy Newton. I live in the garden flat with my husband, Chris.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘You know?’ For a fraction of a second her beatific expression flickered.
‘Brian upstairs told me.’
‘Of course.’ The smile returned. ‘Well, this is a very nice collection of flats we have here. I’m sure you and your girlfriend will like it here.’
‘Yes, I hope so. Actually, I’m certain we will.’ The sun was in his eyes and he found himself squinting at her. ‘I hope you weren’t disturbed too much by our party last night. We did put an invite through your door.’
‘Yes. We would have liked to come but Chris wasn’t feeling too well. He had an early night.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. All the noise…’
She waved his anxiety away. ‘No, don’t worry. When Chris is asleep nothing can wake him. There could be an earthquake or a herd of dinosaurs thundering down the road and he wouldn’t stir. Shame he wasn’t well though. It sounded like a good party. Maybe we’ll come to your next one…if you have one.’
She smiled.
Paul looked at his watch. ‘We’d better get on, Jamie.’
‘Hmm.’ He addressed Lucy: ‘We’ve got to go and pick up Kirsty’s belongings now.’
Lucy looked at the front window of the flat. ‘Where is she?’
‘At work. She’s a nurse.’
‘Really? Which hospital?’
‘St Thomas’s. In the children’s ward.’
‘How lovely. I’m a nurse too. But I work at the other end of the scale. I work in a nursing home. Orchard House.’
‘Jamie…’
He looked at Paul, who was keen to get on. He had a date later in the day – a girl he had met at the party, who had been dressed as Wonderwoman – and he didn’t want to be late.
‘I’d better get on myself,’ Lucy said. ‘Shopping, you know.’
‘It was nice to meet you.’
‘Likewise.’
She walked off and they watched her go down the road.
‘Look at it all,’ said Kirsty, when she arrived home from work. Paul had gone off to meet Wonderwoman, leaving Jamie surrounded by his and Kirsty’s belongings.
‘I met the woman downstairs earlier,’ Jamie said now, bringing Kirsty a cup of Earl Grey tea as she changed out of her uniform.
She ripped open a couple of binbags in her search for the outfit she wanted. ‘Really? What was she like?’
‘She seemed nice. She wasn’t at all pissed off with us about the party, which was a relief. I was quite worried about it.’
‘The considerate neighbour, that’s you. Did you meet her husband?’
‘No. He’s not very well, apparently.’
Kirsty sipped her tea. She always left the teabag in the cup while