Fire After Dark by Sadie Matthews Read Free Book Online Page A

R switching off the light as they go.
    Where are they going? What’s happening?
    I’m startled by the sudden change of expected events. And then a crazy impulse overtakes me. I jump up, tipping a sleepy De Havilland off my lap, and run to the hall cupboard. I’ve already seen that Celia has a motley collection of hats and coats there, and I grab a vintage Burberry trench coat and run out. The little lift is on my floor and a moment later, now in my improvised disguise with my hair loose and the coat collar high, I’m stepping out into the foyer just in time to see the front door close and Mr R and his girlfriend heading down the steps towards the streets.
    What am I doing? I’m a spy now? I feel excited but also aghast at myself. What if they see me? What if he recognises me and wants to know what the hell I’m doing following him? Can I bluff it? Who knows – but it’s too late. It’s madness but now that I’ve started, I’m going to see it through. I want to know where they’re going, I feel, strangely, as though I’m part of their life now, and they’re part of mine. Besides, they’ll probably hail a cab any moment and roar off away from me and I’ll head back to the flat and try and regain my sanity.
    But they don’t.
    Instead they walk through the back streets, talking to one another in voices that I can’t make out, taking what is evidently a familiar route though it’s completely foreign to me.
    If I lose them, I’m going to be in trouble. The map is in my bag back at the flat and I don’t have the faintest idea where I am.
    The darkness makes it all the harder to distinguish direction and take note of landmarks, particularly when I’m intent on keeping their figures in my vision without getting too close. I’m lurking behind them at what I hope is just the right distance. I have no idea whether I’m fading into the background or sticking out like a sore thumb. Let’s hope they don’t decide to turn around suddenly . . .
    They walk on, the woman’s high-heeled shoes tapping loudly on the pavement. She’s wearing a dark dress today with a well-tailored jacket over the top, while Mr R has kept on his business suit, not needing a coat or jacket in this hot weather. In fact, I’m the one who looks conspicuous in a raincoat, considering that most people around us are in T-shirts and light tops.
    Never mind, I’ll just have to pretend to be your typical British eccentric if anyone asks.
    No one will ask, I remind myself. No one gives a damn. That’s what’s seductive about this city. I can be whoever or whatever I like. It’s so different from home, where a change of hair colour can spark a frenzied debate that grips the entire populace.
    We walk through dark streets and then come out onto a busy main road with cars, buses and taxis whizzing along it. We cross it and then are in some chic, pedestrian byways, with unusual boutiques and bars and pubs buzzing with young people standing about on the pavements, drinking and smoking. I’m worried I’ll lose Mr R and the woman as they weave through the crowd but they’re moving at a regular pace, obviously utterly unaware that they’re being followed. We’re heading into a different part of the city and I soon see bars of a more vibrant nature. Rainbow flags hang outside some – they’re gay bars, I recognise the emblem – others have discreetly curtained entrances. I realise that I can see women dressed in miniskirts and bustiers standing outside doorways hanging with glittering streamers.
    The red-light district? I think disbelievingly. This is where they’re going?
    We pass a couple of seedy-looking shops and just as I’m wondering what on earth is happening, we come out in a busy, vibrant area with yet another identity. This has a curious mixture of business and play: everywhere I can see work buildings, the kind devoted to media pursuits of film, television, advertising and marketing, but around them are countless bars and restaurants.