Free The First Cut by Ali Knight

She hadn’t said she loved him. He tried to remember if that was a first. He needed to insulate himself, try to get reassurance where he could. He wasn’t a religious man,
that
would have been a joke, considering; but he even gave a little prayer. He picked up his phone and hesitated. He was trampling on the unspoken codes that underpinned his marriage. But then it wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone beyond decent. Suspicion crawled across his hot skin. He called a number in London. The phone was answered after two rings.
    ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’
    ‘Full of the joys of summer, are you, Liz?’
    ‘You only ever call me if you need something.’
    ‘You know me too well.’ She was silent, refusing to pander to her brother. ‘Oh come on, Liz, I’m away, and I’m not that bad.’
    ‘Are you drunk?’
    ‘I need a favour.’
    ‘Oh! Here we go.’
    ‘Hear me out. Pretty please, sis dearest.’
    ‘You’re such a wanker!’
    But he could tell that she would relent. Liz was lonely and life had not lived up to the high standards she had expected. ‘I’m worried about Nicky.’
    ‘Oh?’ Now she was interested, revealing an eagerness to know about problems and strife. ‘How so?’
    ‘I just want to make sure that she’s OK. Can you keep an eye on her?’
    There was a pause. Her voice was triumphant. ‘You’ll have to be a lot more specific.’
    ‘I just need to know that she’s OK.’
    ‘Are you trying to tell me you want me to
follow
your wife?’ She was dripping sarcasm.
    ‘Liz, please, just for a while—’
    ‘What do you think I do all day, Greg? I work! I’ve got Dan . . .’
    ‘And you’ve got me too. You’ve always been there for me, Liz.’
    ‘Greg, tone down the touchy-feely Hollywood – this is south London. I might gag.’
    ‘Just do it for me.’
    She swore under her breath. ‘You owe me.’
    He finished the call and stared uselessly out of the window. He wondered if the Californian sunshine could cleanse him of his disturbing thoughts.

10
     
    N othing attracts like a saviour, Nicky decided. Try as she might, Adam had become a hero, and heroes were hard to ignore or turn down. After the shock of a visit to A&E and a tetanus injection, then a change of clothes and borrowing money off Adam to go round to Maria’s to get her spare door keys, she mooned around the house for the rest of the weekend, replaying her ditch in the Thames and her rescue over and over. She thought about making a complaint against Bea, but dismissed it almost immediately. She wasn’t worth the bother or the paperwork, and despite what Bea might have wanted to happen, Nicky’s fall into the water had been an accident. Plus, she had more practical issues to consider: she’d lost her bag and now faced a full day on the phone replacing her entire identity: bank cards, money, make-up, keys. In the midst of these jobs she got an email from Adam inviting her over on Wednesday – his dad was at home and if Connie was well enough Nicky could meet her.
    After three uneventful days at work, and still waiting for the police report of her fall in the Thames to be sent to the accounts department so she could get a replacement mobile, she walked the short distance from Notting Hill Gate tube to the address at the southern end of Portobello Road. It was a warm sunny evening and she felt the long dormant feeling of excitement and anticipation at doing something new, meeting someone interesting, uncovering the layers. Lawrence’s flat was down a cobbled mews cut off from Portobello Road by a large gate. She rang the bell on a brushed-steel door and a moment later someone clattered down the stairs. Adam was trying to keep his feet inside a pair of faded espadrilles and he shifted and hopped on the doorstep as he kissed her on the cheeks. He’d got browner in the few days since she’d seen him, and it suited him. ‘Come on up.’
    He took the stairs two at a time and she followed him into a large, open-plan