Forward Slash by Mark Edwards, Louise Voss Read Free Book Online Page A

drinks with men whom I then let down gently when they ask for a second date, back to the drawing board, find another one, ad infinitum until I – hopefully – find one I want to see again and who likes me too … Somehow, I feel that Kath’s involvement might change my little routine. She’s a loose cannon, on the prowl. Then I think, sod it, and giggle to myself at the mental image of a cannon on the prowl. A couple of real men. That sounds good.
    No. It sounds great.
    ‘Bring it on, girlfriend!’ I crow, in my best fake-Harlem accent.

5
Amy
Sunday, 21 July
    Amy let herself into her flat and smiled for the first time that day.
    ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ she said. ‘What do you fancy for lunch?’
    He raised an ear and licked her face.
    Boris was her greyhound, adopted from a rescue centre two years ago, a great, lazy, affectionate mass of skin and bone and, as she often joked, the only man in her life. She had even started letting him sleep on the end of her bed, although she would never tell anyone that. If found out, she would say it was for security. Boris was her guard, growling at strange noises, though she suspected that an intruder would get nothing worse than a big lick on the nose.
    The dog followed her into the kitchen and watched her pour dried food into a bowl.
    ‘I’m worried about her, Boris,’ she said. ‘Her nutty friend said she’d been on a hot date on Thursday night. But she didn’t know the guy’s name, where he lives, what he does, or anything useful except that Becks met this bloke on a dating site and had met up with him a couple of times before.’
    On her way out of Katherine’s, Amy had noticed a framed photograph of Katherine and her ex, Clive, hanging on the wall in the hallway. The glass had been smashed, a jagged pattern of cracks spreading out from a centre point directly above Clive’s mouth. How strange that Katherine would leave a broken frame on the wall – but then, the girl was strange, full stop, and it had pissed her off how Katherine had seemed to find the whole thing so amusing. She made a mental note not to push for that article on jewellery-making any more. Dealing with unpleasant people, whether in her business or personal life, was something she had vowed to avoid at all costs.
    ‘So this is what I know so far,’ she said, flicking the kettle on as Boris scoffed his lunch. ‘Wednesday, Becky went to work as normal and went out that evening with a bunch of teachers. Katherine says they left early but that was the last time anyone saw her. Thursday, she had her hot date, apparently, and Saturday night, she sent me the email.
    ‘No sign of her passport at the flat – but it could be somewhere I didn’t look. Ditto her suitcase, though I can’t think where it could be hidden. The fridge was empty. All signs that she’s done what she said in the email and gone away.’
    She took an individual coffee filter out of the box and ripped open its plastic packet. Her eyes felt scratchy and her body yearned for caffeine as she plonked the filter into the top of her mug and poured boiling water in, inhaling its delicious scent.
    ‘But the boiler was on and the front door wasn’t double-locked. She hadn’t said anything to her neighbour about going away, either. And then there was the thing about Cambodia in the email. She’s definitely been there before, so why say that she’s always wanted to go there?’
    She went out into the sunny garden and sat down, sipping the steaming coffee. Boris stayed in the kitchen, unhurriedly eating his food.
    Contradictory evidence. Her mind leapt from fact to fact and inserted a big fat
but
between each one. The door was unlocked
but
I can’t find her passport
but
the fridge was empty
but
…
    The biggest
but
of all was the feeling in her gut: that cold, sick feeling that had been there since she’d read the email. That instinct, along with her knowledge of her sister – because this really was so unlike Becky – convinced her