Free The Magpies by Mark Edwards Page A

‘I’m not really in the mood to talk about physical exercise right now.’
    ‘So you don’t want to go to bed then?’ He winked at her and she groaned and covered her face with a cushion. Whenever she was ill, Jamie became even more libidinous. His theory was that it was because she seemed so vulnerable, lying there sniffling: his primeval instincts came out and he wanted to carry her off to his cave.
    ‘Lemsip?’ he asked, putting thoughts of passion aside.
    ‘Yes please.’
    He went into the kitchen and saw the chunk of ginger sitting on the worktop, untouched. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, going back out to Kirsty.
    ‘That’s root ginger. Mary came down earlier and gave it to me. She said it would cure my flu.’
    ‘And have you taken any?’
    ‘No, of course not. How’s that going to help me? I’ll stick with my Lemsips, thanks.’
    Jamie tutted. ‘You should try it, Kirsty. What do we have to do with it?’ She explained the process. ‘Right, I’ll make you a cup.’
    After Jamie had strained the ginger, he carried it out to Kirsty. She sniffed it and pulled a face, but then took a sip. ‘It’s foul.’
    ‘Come on, drink it.’
    He knelt beside her and stroked her hair as she sipped it, screwing up her face in with distaste. ‘So what was Mary doing down here? Did she hear you coughing and blowing your nose and come down to offer you her miracle cure?’
    ‘No, she came down to ask if I’ve seen her cat. It’s gone missing.’
    ‘Lennon? Oh no. When did she last see him?’
    ‘Sunday, I think she said.’
    Jamie scratched his head. ‘Oh. Because I saw him on Sunday. Lucy had him. I saw her carry him into her flat.’
    ‘Lucy?’
    He stood up. ‘I’d better go and tell Mary.’
    ‘What was Lucy doing with him?’
    He shrugged. ‘I’ll see you in a minute.’
    At the top of the stairs, he knocked on Mary’s door. He felt uncomfortable. He had this strange, irrational fear that Lucy had done something to Lennon. She had made it clear that she didn’t think much of Mary (calling her a witch was hardly a display of neighbourly good feeling), but surely – surely – she wouldn’t do anything to harm her cat.
    Mary opened the door. She was smiling, and Jamie noticed that her pupils were dilated. He guessed she had been smoking weed – in fact, there was the distinct smell of cannabis in the air as he stepped into the hallway.
    ‘Kirsty told me Lennon has gone missing. It’s just that, well, I’m not sure how to say this…’
    Mary cut him off, a wide grin on her face. ‘He’s come back. Come and see.’
    She led him into the living room and there, sitting on the sofa with his legs tucked under his body, was her cat.
    ‘I was so relieved,’ Mary said. ‘I thought he’d been run over, or, well, I don’t know what. You hear of awful things happening to people’s cats. In the paper last week there was a report of these children shooting a cat with an air rifle and killing it. Horrible. But Lennon’s safe and sound. As you can see.’
    Jamie crossed the room and bent to stroke the cat, who rolled over onto his back, inviting Jamie to scratch his belly.
    He remembered what he had meant to ask her. ‘Does Lennon ever bring rats in?’
    Mary shook her head. ‘God, no. He never brings anything in apart from the odd earthworm. I remember he caught a butterfly once, and that was a major achievement. He was really proud of himself. But rats – well, he’d run a mile if he saw a rat. Especially the big ones you get round here. Linda upstairs told me she saw a rat that was as big as a puppy – a monstrous thing.’ He wasn’t really convinced by what she said about her cat. It reminded him of the parents of a school bully who think the little brat is in fact an angel. It probably was Lennon who had left the rats on their doorstep.
    Mary walked over to the fireplace and took a silver cigarette case off of the mantelpiece. She produced a ready-rolled spliff, confirming Jamie’s