Frieda Klein 2 - Tuesday's Gone by Nicci French Read Free Book Online

phone again.
    ‘Hello?’ She had definitely had
     several drinks: there was a wobble to her voice.
    ‘I got your message. Can’t this
     conversation wait until morning? It’s nearly midnight, we’re both
     tired …’
    ‘Speak for yourself.’
    He swallowed his anger.
     ‘
I’m
tired. And I don’t want us to have an argument about
     this. We should think about what’s best for Mikey and Bella and not rush into
     things.’
    ‘You know what, Mal? I’m sick to
     death of thinking about what’s best for Mikey and Bella. I’ve spent my adult
     life thinking about what’s best for you, what’s best for them, being
     understanding about your work, your shifts, putting everyone first. It’s my
     turn.’
    ‘You mean it’s Bob’s
     turn.’ Bob was his wife’s partner. They lived together in Brighton, and when
     the divorce came through, they planned to marry, so Karlsson supposed he was really
     Bella and Mikey’s step-father. He took them to school each morning on his way to
     work, and he read stories to them each evening. Karlsson had seen photographs of Bella
     beaming on his solid shoulders, and Mikey had told him how Bob had taught him to play
     French cricket on the beach. Apparently he might buy them a dog. Now Bob had been
     offered a job in Madrid, and Julie wanted to move the family out there – ‘just for
     a couple of years’.
    ‘Madrid’s not Australia,’
     she was saying. ‘You can fly there in a couple of hours.’
    ‘It’s not the
     same.’
    ‘And think what a wonderful experience
     it would be for them.’
    ‘Children need their father,’
     Karlsson said, wincing at the platitude.
    ‘They’d still have you. That
     won’t change. And they could have holidays with you. It won’t be for a
     couple of months anyway – you can spend lots of time with them until they go.’
    I’m losing them, thought Karlsson,
     staring at the phone he clutched in his hand. First they moved to Brighton, now
     they’ll go all the way to Spain. I’ll be a stranger. They’ll hang back
     when they see me, hide behind Julie, get homesick when they’re in my home.
     ‘I can refuse,’ he said. ‘I still have joint custody.’
    ‘You can stop us going. Or try to. Is
     that what you want?’
    ‘Of course not. But do you want me to
     barely see them?’
    ‘No.’ Julie sighed heavily. He
     heard her suppress a yawn. ‘But tell me what we’re going to do, Mal. We
     can’t really compromise on this.’
    ‘I don’t know.’ Karlsson,
     however, was already sure that he was going to agree. He felt trapped in the sort of
     argument they’d had when they were together. He felt defeated and lonely.
    The knife had its own special drawer, where
     it lay wrapped in plastic, with the whetstone. Sometimes she lifted it out and laid it
     on the table in front of her, studying the dull gleam of its long blade, perhaps
     touching its edge cautiously to feel the fresh sharpness. It sent a shiver of excitement
     and dread through her, something almost sexual. She never used it for cooking: she had a
     blunt kitchen knife for that. She kept it ready. One day it would have its use.
    Now she lifted the hatch cautiously; it used
     to creak butshe had poured a few drops of cooking oil on to its hinges
     so it levered open quietly. The wind blew directly into her face, cold and carrying a
     few drops of rain. It was very dark on the river. There was no moon tonight and no
     stars. The lamps on the barges that lined the bank, those that were occupied, had been
     extinguished and only a few lights in the distance glimmered. She pulled herself out and
     stared around. On the marshes, a long way off, someone had lit a fire. The orange flames
     flickered against the sky. She squinted but could not make out any figures beside it,
     black cut-out shapes. She was alone. Water slapped very gently against the side of the
     boat. When she had first come here, she had been unsettled by the sound and the slight,
     occasional