Free Beneath the Skin by Sandra Ireland

don’t want to know what goes on in your head.’
    Her smile was crooked. ‘I think you do.’

14
    Later, Walt went out to buy fags. A cold east wind had got up, bringing rain with it from the Forth. Not for the first time he thought about the grey Crombie overcoat he’d left in his wardrobe at home. He might have to buy another one if things didn’t heat up. Or even a scarf, he thought, pulling the collar of his jacket up. Turning into Alys’s road he took out his key. He was surprised to see a strange bicycle chained to the basement railings. Alys didn’t have friends, and definitely not friends with bikes. Though it was an old-fashioned type, ‘pre-owned’, as they say in sales circles, and probably more than once. The saddle was dappled with drizzle. Curious, he let himself into the house. There were voices in the kitchen. He didn’t have anything else to do, so he’d make himself a coffee and take it up to his room. His job was definitely part-time, sporadic. Sometimes he was sure Alys simply forgot he was there.
    The table had been cleared, apart from the single place setting at the end. This was Alys’s place, Mouse had warned him. It was always set for whatever meal she might turn up for. The tablemat was a plastic child’s mat, with an orange cartoon fish, and her mug sat empty and waiting. The mug bore the slogan ‘Taxidermists don’t give a stuff ’.
    Mouse had a friend over for tea; they were sitting opposite each other, a white cardboard bakery box between them, and fat ginger crumbs on their plates, smears of butter cream. Walt recognised the girl from the pharmacy, the one with the geeky glasses. She smiled when he came in, the turn of her head quick, like a bird. Don’t stay too long in this place, he thought, it’s not a great place for birds. Her skin was pale and unwrinkled, like double cream, her hair blacker and shorter than he remembered. She was very animated when she talked, her nose wrinkling, dislodging the Buddy Holly frames. Mouse looked relaxed for once, her eyes picking up a spark from this girl. She’d melted a little, like her crisp shell was only sugar frosting and there was something luscious inside.
    â€˜Hi, I’m Fee,’ said the girl. ‘I saw you at the pharmacy.’
    â€˜Loofahs.’ He went over and shook her hand. She had a good, strong shake for the size of her.
    â€˜Sorry, we ate all the cake but you can come and have a coffee with us,’ said Mouse. He couldn’t work out if that was the good mood talking or her usual need to do the right thing. They resumed their conversation as Walt filled the kettle and found a mug.
    â€˜I think you should go, Maura.’
    â€˜I’m not sure. It would be really awkward.’
    â€˜It’s only a meal, you don’t have to sleep with him!’
    â€˜Ugh, thank God!’
    Walt swung into a spare seat, looked from one to the other. Mouse stared at her plate, but Fee laughed and said, ‘Galen has asked her out!’
    â€˜What, the old chemist guy in the bad suit?’
    Mouse rolled her eyes. ‘He dresses very well, for his age.’
    â€˜For his age,’ Walt repeated. ‘What are you thinking?’
    It was none of his business, obviously. You’d have to laugh, really, at the thought of those two together, Church Mouse and a guy old enough to be her father, jangling his money in front of her. She’d be lucky if that was all he jangled.
    â€˜He’s sent her a friend request on Facebook and he has a house in the Dordogne.’ Fee made big eyes, like this was the clincher. Mouse let out an embarrassed huff of a laugh.
    â€˜That’s the worst possible reason to shag a guy, because you think he’s got money,’ Walt said.
    â€˜I would never do that!’ Mouse’s nose went pink around the edges. ‘I wasn’t even thinking of it!’
    â€˜I bet you were.’
    â€˜I