Free The Last Winter of Dani Lancing: A Novel by P. D. Viner Page B

pull of his blood. There is only one customer, a cab driver, sitting alone in the far corner. Patty looks him over. People-watching is still one of her favorite ways to pass the time and she can’t resist trying to unpick his life story. They make eye contact for a moment. He has a haunted look, like a man who is pushed or pushes himself very hard. Does he need the money to fund some addiction? Or does he just need to keep moving, keep awake like a shark, desperate just to keep going, no time to think? And what might he see in her—does she stink of desperation? Can he tell that she has lived and breathed revenge—has stayed alive for one purpose: to catch the man who took Dani’s life and pitched them all into this everlasting, ferocious winter of grief and loss?
    From behind the counter a figure emerges. A bleary-eyed young man, dark and handsome.
    “Tea, please.”
    “Ereogo?”
    “I don’t understand.”
    He mimes, pointing at the seats or out the door.
    “Oh, yes, of course. I …”
    She would like to sit there and drink the hot tea, cradle theceramic bowl in her hands and let the heat seep through into her icy fingers. But the blood is in the car and what if someone tries to steal it?
    “Take-away, please.”
    He takes a Styrofoam cup and fills it from the urn, then splashes a little milk into it before sealing it with a white plastic cap. Patty takes it from him with a mumble of thanks and drops two coins onto the counter. She turns on her heel and walks back to the door, immediately sorry for her decision to opt for take-away as the heat is dampened by the foam of the cup and her fingers stay cold. Outside, on the street, she pours some of the tea directly onto her skin and it turns a bright and angry red, but she can’t feel it.

    Patty perches in the doorway of the lab, waiting for the staff to struggle in, the blood cradled in her arms. Her anxiety is building but she tries to keep it in check.
    “Just wait,” she tells herself. And she can wait. She is the queen of waiting. It seems like all she has done for the longest time. Finally, her patience pays off. The first staff member arrives. He looks at her nervously.
    “Can you stand back?” he asks.
    “Oh, of course. Yes.”
    Patty steps away from the stairs and the keypad. The staff member taps in his code and then edges in, keeping his eyes glued to Patty. It’s only once he’s inside that Patty realizes he thought she might try and force her way in to get drugs or start begging for something. When the next staff member arrives, Patty moves away and immediately launches into her best Hilary Clifton-Hastings, non-threatening cheery voice.
    “Hello. Just waiting to have someone run some tests. That’s all.”
    They look at her like she’s crazy. That may be better than fearing she’s an axe-wielding junkie.
    Finally the door is open to the public and she can walk inside. Roberta is there, the woman she’d met with the week before. At that meeting, she had given Patty the slide and refrigerated box as well as instructions on how to take the sample. There were two options, she had said. The easiest was with a swab inside the cheeks, Invasive but did not hurt in any way. The other option was a blood sample—a prick was all that was needed. Patty had decided on blood, but a little more than just a prick. Patty hands her the box with the slide of blood. Roberta checks it is sealed correctly.
    “Please take a seat.” She motions to two chairs in the corner and then she punches digits into a keypad and disappears into the main part of the lab. Patty can’t sit. She stands. After about twenty minutes Roberta returns.
    “The sample is well collected and seems clean. It can be matched with the sample you brought in before. We will have the result tomorrow.”
    “I’m sorry.” Patty tries to keep the scream out of her voice. “We had agreed a four-hour test time.”
    “I know. Normally that is possible but we are understaffed today, the