Free Into the Darkest Corner by Elizabeth Haynes Page B

Secretive how?”
    “I don’t know what he does. He turned up at my house one night looking like he’d been in some fight and then jumped out of the car on the way home. He wouldn’t tell me what had happened.”
    “Was he pissed?”
    “No.”
    “Oh, my God, he’s a gangster.”
    I laughed. “I don’t think so.”
    “A drug dealer?”
    I shook my head.
    “Well, why won’t he tell you what he’s been up to, then?”
    “I’ve no idea. But I trust him.”
    “You trust someone who gets into fights and then won’t tell you what happened?”
    “He’s been honest with me about everything else.”
    “Has he? How do you know?”
    Sylvia was entirely right. I knew that if he did have a job, the hours were irregular and he was often away for days at a time. I hadn’t met any of his friends, his family—having them all the way down in Cornwall was convenient, to say the least. I hadn’t even been to his flat.
    “If you met him, you’d know. He says everything with his eyes.”
    She hooted with laughter and kicked me under the table. “Get a grip on yourself!” She swirled the last of the coffee around in her cup and looked at me from under her eyelashes. “Well, it’s about time I did meet him anyway. Why don’t you bring him along to my farewell party?”
    “What farewell party?”
    The excitement of holding her news in bubbled over at last and Sylvia’s eyes sparkled with delight.
    “I’ve gotten myself a job at the Daily Mail . I’m starting in January.”
    “Shut up! No way!”
    “Yes way. I am getting out of this town. Finally.”
    Genuinely thrilled, I gave her a hug as Sylvia squealed and jumped up and down. The other occupants of the Paradise Café, an elderly couple and a few students, watched us warily, while Irene behind the counter gave us an indulgent smile.
    That was it, then, I thought. I’d be left here in Lancaster while my oldest friends went off pursuing their lives around the world. If it weren’t for Lee, I’d be looking to escape myself.
    “So what’s all this about a party?”

Monday 26 November 2007
    When I got home there was mail for me on the table downstairs in the hallway. In addition to the usual bills, there was a large brown envelope with just the word “Cathy” on the front in black marker.
    “Coo-ee, Cathy! You all right?”
    “Yes, thanks, Mrs. Mackenzie. How are you?”
    “I’m fine, dear.” She gave me that hard stare again, while I looked at the envelope on the table without picking it up, and then went back into her flat and shut the door.
    I left it where it was and checked the door again, twice over, start to finish. I could have gotten away with once, but the second time enabled me to pick up the envelope with the other stuff and take it upstairs.
    I dropped it on the coffee table while I did the checks, but I found I rushed through the first two times because I wanted to see what was in the envelope. I had to force myself to slow down the third time, do it properly, concentrate. When I’d finished I paused. Was that good enough? Should I do it again for good measure, just to be sure? Maybe I’d missed something.
    I started again.
    It was nearly nine when I sat on the sofa and opened the envelope. A pile of papers, some of them clipped together with a paper clip, and a handwritten note at the front.
    Cathy—
    Thought these might be useful. Let me know if you need anything. Or if you want to ask any questions.
    Stuart
     
    I looked at the note for ages, the way he’d written my name, the way he’d signed his name. I wondered if he’d had to think about what to write. It looked utterly carefree, easy, as though he’d picked up the pile of papers somewhere, casually, and then just scribbled off two lines without even thinking about it.
    I went through the pile, and quickly I noticed that there was nothing careless about it at all. The first thing was a sheet about the Center for Anxiety Disorders and Trauma at the Maudsley Hospital in Denmark