Free Dark Eyes of London by Philip Cox

change.  At Victoria.’
    ‘Okay,’ Tom said gently. ‘Good luck, then. Speak Monday.’
    She smiled, turned away, and started walking in the direction of the bank of bus stops on Knightsbridge.
    Tom stood and watched her for a minute, then made his way to Edinburgh Gate, then to the tube station. As he walked, he thought about the implications of what Amy had told him. He always had reservations about the idea that Lisa jumped in front of the train: maybe his reservations were justified.
    Being deep in thought, he didn’t notice the man he had bumped into in the WC doorway. The albino paused at the spot where Tom and Amy parted. He looked over at the row of bus stops.  He could make out Amy’s figure arrive at the stops. One bus was already there, and a second was pulling up.  He looked over in the direction of the tube station: Tom was crossing South Carriage Drive.
    He looked once more at the bus stops, then began to walk briskly towards the tube station.
     

 
    Chapter Thirteen
    The streets were quiet that night. Very little traffic, even for this late hour. A faint rumble of traffic from the main road half a mile away.  A taxi pulled up a hundred yards or so up the road; a faint bang as the fare shut the door. A night bus passed the intersection a little further up. There was the sound of a dustbin lid falling on the ground: probably a fox.  The sky was almost clear: a few wisps of cloud, the flashing lights of an aircraft as it made its approach to Gatwick.
    Apart from two or three windows dotted about the streets, all the buildings, residential and commercial were in darkness.  Two figures walked down the street, arm in arm, stopping occasionally.
    On the third floor of one of the buildings, a digital alarm clock showed 01:05.  The light from the clock was the only illumination in this bedroom, except for that from the street lamps.
    Jane Kennedy looked over at the clock as Sully rolled off her with a satisfied grunt. She wriggled around under the sheet and pulled her nightshirt back down. She turned the other way: Sully had fallen asleep straight away. She lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Now the clock said 01:07.
    At 01:09 she heard some talking from the street below. Not shouting: just ordinary conversation.  She strained to hear what was being said, but the voices were too soft. She contemplated getting up to look out the window, but the people below moved on, still talking.
    She turned and lay on her side and tried to get back to sleep. 01:12.
    01:16. No good. She got up and sat on the bed. Sully murmured something in his sleep, moved around a bit, and then ripped off a fart.
    Jane was about to say something to him, or hit him, but decided she wanted him asleep. She stood up, and padded into the bathroom. Then into the kitchen, where the oven clock read 01:23.
    She reached into her bag which was hanging on the back of a chair, and fished out a pack of Lambert & Butler, and a lighter. She lit up, and sat down on the chair. Picked up the little black lighter and studied it. It had Antigua engraved on it, in elegant gold lettering. She snorted: it had been a present from Sully, on their first holiday together.
    That day’s Daily Mail was resting on the table.  She reached over and pulled it over.  She glanced at the front page, and then started to browse through the paper.  Got bored by the time she reached page 7, so closed the paper again.
    She looked at the clock - 01:34 - and took a long drag from her cigarette. Stubbed it out in the terracotta ashtray.
    She wandered down the hallway, and stood in the bedroom doorway for a moment.  Then padded over to Sully’s side of the bed. Stood two feet away from the bed and watched him for a full minute.
    Satisfied he was soundly asleep she went into the spare room. Ostensibly a second bedroom, as only the two of them lived in the flat, they used it as an overflow wardrobe come dressing room and storeroom. There was also a small desk and chair