Dead Lovely by Helen Fitzgerald Read Free Book Online Page B

labour ahead of him, having been elected project manager of the pirate-themed adventure playground.
    Three cups of tea later, Netty closed the door and left Mike to do what he needed. Unpack. He was anal about this. He’d learnt over the years how to close a house for several days, taking exactly what was needed for a trip away, and how to prepare a house for homecoming so that ‘Aah’ is the reaction, and not ‘Jesus, shit, when will I ever finish that ironing?!’
    Mike put a load of washing on, placed his suitcase in the eaves cupboard, and looked out the window at the greenery opposite. He loved this flat. It was private and bright and, while his view was fresh and panoramic, no-one could see into his windows at all. Next Mike ordered his shoppingonline and ran a long bubbly bath. He then surfed a while longer before attending to the three messages on his answer phone.
    The first was from his ex-colleague Paul, a cameraman who’d worked with him on several documentaries. Paul had heard a rumour that the BBC was looking for ideas for a new series aimed at teens. They should get together, he said, at that Italian place in the West End, maybe.
    The second was from the builder who was interested in the job if the Pirates won, and could start immediately.
    And the third was from a neighbouring housewife who took her job as treasurer of the residents’ association as seriously as she took baby massage and cello tuition.
    ‘Congratulations!’ she said. ‘We are all so very grateful! And the pup’s been fine with us; come get him when you’re ready.’
    Mike’s puppy was a black labrador that, to Mike’s consternation, shat and peed all over the place.
    Mike would get him later. Right now, he needed a bath.
    *
    Over the next week it was mayhem at Greensleaves. Mike had arranged for the acre to be levelled and the diggers had scraped the land flat, leaving a huge pile of earth at one end that had turned to mud with therain, and which six or seven kids were tobogganing down with windswept faces.
    He’d felt a little weird lately. Maybe it was tiredness from working on the playground. Organising workmen and harassing suppliers had been hard and for a week he didn’t finish till ten at night. He’d not even had a chance to walk his dog. Netty and her granddaughter, Isla, had taken over this duty, and he was glad of it. But he was becoming a little paranoid. Since working on the site, he often felt the treasurer of the residents’ association, Netty and several other neighbours were looking at him oddly, that they had been talking about him. He hated feeling this way. It was pathetic. But he did.
    ‘Get over here, Isla!’ Netty yelled from the window of her flat across the road to her granddaughter , whose uniform was dishevelled and covered in mud. ‘Your mother will be furious!’
    Isla waved back at her gran with a grin and Netty couldn’t help but smile back at her.
    ‘Lucky she’s away for the weekend!’ Isla yelled.
    Mike gave six-year-old Isla a high five as she ran back towards the muddy hill where the other children climbed and descended with gusto.
    ‘Okay!’ Mike yelled to the group at the top of the mud pile. ‘First one down wins a pound!’
    Mike smiled as the screams of excitement and pleasure trailed behind the children.
    *

    The following morning was Saturday and Greensleaves had been temporarily abandoned for family time involving Ikea and arguments. Mike had no role in this so he packed his car to head south. As he packed, he could hear his dog barking inside Netty’s house, scratching at the door to be let out. Mike had dropped the puppy off a few hours earlier, because Isla was staying for the weekend and had begged to look after him.
    ‘That dog,’ thought Mike.
    He made a flask of hot chocolate, packed sandwiches , cake, fruit, his chair and sunscreen, and put his house in order – online shopping done for his arrival back on Sunday, plants watered.
    As he drove out of Drymlee, he