Into the Darkest Corner by Elizabeth Haynes Read Free Book Online Page B

like home already.”
    I found myself smiling at him. His green eyes were regarding me, a boyish sparkle to them—it had been a long time since I’d met anyone with that sort of enthusiasm. “Good.”
    Above the racket I heard someone shout “Stu!” and we both turned to see Ralphie at the door, beckoning him on. He returned a salute.
    “I’d better go,” he said.
    “Right.”
    “Might see you later?” he asked.
    A few years ago the answer to this question would have been an automatic yes. I’d be out all night, moving from one drinking hole to another, meeting friends, leaving some of them behind in one place and meeting up with them again in another, moving from pub to club to bar without a care in the world. Seeing someone later could mean just that, or it could mean making out in some doorway, staggering home and fucking them all night, before waking up the next day with a blinding headache and an urgent need to throw up.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll probably be heading home in a minute.”
    “Want me to wait? I’ll walk you home.”
    I tried to see from his eyes whether he meant that, whether he was prepared to walk me home to see me safely to the front door, or if he meant he wanted to walk me home and then see what happened.
    “Thanks,” I said, “but I’ll be fine. It’s not exactly far. You go and have a good time. I’ll see you soon.”
    He hesitated for a moment, then gave me a smile, leaned over me slightly to put his empty bottle down on the bar, and followed Ralph out into the night.
    “That your boyfriend?” said Caroline, turning back from the bar.
    I shook my head.
    “Shame,” she said, “he’s nice. And obviously fancies the pants off you.”
    “You think?” I asked, wondering if that was a good thing or not.
    She nodded vigorously. “I can always tell these things. The way he was looking at you. Who is he, then?”
    “Lives in the flat upstairs,” I said. “His name’s Stuart.”
    “Well,” she said, “I’d get in there if I were you. Before someone else does.”
    I watched the others as they debated where the rest of the night would take them. They were arguing over getting a cab and going straight to the West End, or whether to have one more drink in the Red Lion, because apparently Erin had a bit of a thing for one of the barmen in there. Either way, I wasn’t going with them. And I definitely wasn’t going anywhere near the Red Lion. That one had people on the door.
    We all poured back out onto the sidewalk again and started threading our way through the crowds back up toward the Red Lion, and Talbot Street, where I was planning on diverting in the direction of home. I walked deliberately slowly so that I’d fall behind and not be noticed when I sneaked off.
    I heard a noise behind me, a shout.
    It was Robin, coming out of the Lloyd George still zipping up his fly. He had apparently given up on Diane and Lucy, because for some reason he seemed to feel like starting on me. “Cath-aay,” he said, breathing beer and whiskey and green chicken curry all over me. “Did I tell you how sensational you’re looking tonight?”
    He slung an arm over my shoulder. He was so close to me I could feel the heat of him. I ducked from under his arm and quickened my steps to try to catch up with the others, not wanting to reply, not trusting myself with any answer.
    “What’s the matter, beautiful? You not talking to me tonight?”
    “You’re drunk,” I said quietly, staring at Caroline’s back to try to make her turn around, to come and rescue me.
    “Well, love,” he said, with emphasis, “of course I’m drunk, it’s the fucking Christmas party, right? Tha’s the whole fucking point.”
    I stopped walking and turned to face him. Somewhere inside me, the fear had been taken over by fury. “Go and annoy someone else, Robin.”
    He stopped too, and his attractive face had become a sneer. “Frigid cow,” he said loudly. “Bet you only get wet for your