Free Now You See Me by Lesley Glaister Page A

shook my head.
    â€˜She reckons tree roots’ll be getting in foundations. Eat your cake. It’ll be hers one day.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜This.’ He patted the arm of his chair and I thought, that old thing. Then I realised what he meant. He meant it all.
    We talked a bit more about this and that and then I let Doughnut out into the back garden, stood there looking into the brown leafy mess as it got dark. A bird was warbling on the wet branch of a nearly-bare tree. Somewhere there was a crackle and a bang and a skinny silver streak in the sky. Someone having an early firework party.
    â€˜When’s she coming back?’ I asked as I put my jacket on.
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜Sarah.’
    â€˜Don’t know,’ he said. ‘She comes and goes, you know. Take it.’ He nodded at the album. ‘If it’s useful for your whatsit.’
    â€˜Thesis. Sure?’
    â€˜Long as you look after it. You haven’t touched your cake.’
    I picked up the crumby lump and the album.
    â€˜Ta,’ I said. His eyes were bright as a child’s. I had a stupid desire to kiss him. I mean the cleaner kissing him.
    â€˜And if you think of anyone … for garden.’
    â€˜Course,’ I said, thinking, that’s a laugh, me know someone.
    I went down and stared at Zita and made myself stare at the baby which was just a blur in a bonnet and a shawl. It was only seven o’clock. I couldn’t eat the cake but I needed something. I fancied some beer so I thought I’d go to the pub. It’s an OK pub, the Duke’s Head.
    I sat inside because it was wet and empty in the beer-garden, no sign of a single person there. I drank half a pint of beer and ate a packet of prawn crisps. I flicked through a Sunday-supplement magazine someone had left on a seat. There was an article about artificial human parts, how they can now grow them, bits of bone and stuff. How one day they might be able to grow a whole new human heart. I thought about it, how maybe you could have a shiny clean new heart put in, a heart that had never beaten in a chest before, or felt anything, that had never fallen in love or been broken. But there was no one to say it to so I finished my drink and went.

Ten
    It was a Mrs Banks morning. Doggo didn’t show up. If he’d wanted to find me he would have been lurking about like before. I’d woken with a feeling in my bones that he’d be there but my bones turned out to be wrong, there was no one, only an old bloke with hedge clippers giving me a funny look. I went in, thinking how glad I was. Mrs Banks was out but she’d left a note:
    Dear Lamb, there’s some left-over curry in the fridge, do eat it up. Would you tidy the living room and water all the plants, please, and yet again there’s ironing. I’ll pay you on Friday – but call this evening if you’re short .
    Take care. Marion .
    I did everything and then stuck around for a bit in case she came back. I wouldn’t have minded seeing her. I kept looking out of the window to see if anyone was out there. It’s natural to be curious about someone when they’ve said they know you in that way. When they’ve squeezed the tip of your middle finger and made it glow. Not that I expected to see him ever again, or even wanted to. I cleaned the kitchen worktops and emptied the bin because there wasn’t enough in what she said to last me two hours. I tried some of her lipstick but it was too sugary pink for me, too pretty, it made the rest of me look worse. I scrubbed it off.
    I stared at a picture of Roy, a nursery-school photo with a cardboard frame, trying to see Doggo in him – and there was something apart from the dark hair, I don’t know what, just a look, like you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that they were brothers.
    I only had the quickest shower, using the minimum of shower gel, but I scrubbed the bath after me and picked all the hairs –