Nightsiders by Gary McMahon Read Free Book Online Page A

from an external line. Do all calls not come through reception?”
    The old woman glanced at him and put down her iPod. This time she was not wearing the headphones; she had been untying a knot in the wire as he approached. “Usually,” she said. “But each room has its own number on the system, and if you know the extension, you can get straight through. Some of our long-term residents give out those extensions, and have private calls that don’t come through the internal system.”
    Robert’s throat was dry; he felt sick. “Has anyone asked you for the extension to our room? Anyone at all?”
    The old woman shook her head, and returned her attention to the knot in her headphone wire. “Nope,” she said, dismissing him. “Why would they?”
    Robert left the hotel feeling cold, as if a chill wind had passed through the lobby and latched onto him like a parasite.
    He hurried down the street, past the police station and to the corner where he had glimpsed Molly. He was now beginning to doubt it had even been her, but not quite enough to abandon his search. He turned the corner and walked a few paces before reaching a small, grotty pub. There was no name above the door, and the interior was dark and cool and peculiarly unwelcoming. He stepped into the doorway but did not enter. There was a young couple sitting in a corner, near the jukebox, and they were kissing passionately. The boy, dressed in a denim jacket and a pair of white tracksuit bottoms, was running his hand along the girl’s leg.
    Molly?
    He wanted to go inside, but something stopped him. It was like a physical barrier, an invisible gate keeping him out. He stared at the couple, aware that a barman had noticed him and was walking slowly out from behind the bar. The man was holding a glass, rubbing it clean with a towel, massaging it in much the same way the boy was now caressing the girl’s tiny left breast.
    “Help you?” The barman was now before him, smiling. His front two teeth on the upper row were missing. There was a smudged tattoo on his neck that could have been a swallow, a spider or a crab. “You comin’ in?” He rubbed his glass. The boy rubbed the girl’s tit.
    “Molly,” said Robert, still unable to move.
    Then, at last, the couple broke apart and the girl turned around, staring at the doorway. It was not Molly; it did not even resemble her. The girl had shorter hair, a thinner build, and her face was plastered with makeup. She smiled, opened her mouth, and he saw a wad of chewing gum lodged in the side of her mouth, between tooth and cheek.
    The barman laughed as Robert wheeled away, stumbling into the road. He was aware of a car horn sounding, and someone shouting at him from an open window, but he did not pause. Then he saw her, farther along the street, eating an ice cream. Connor was with her, drinking Coke from a can, and they were staring in the opposite direction, as if there was nothing wrong in their world.
    “Dad?” Molly spotted him first. The ice cream fell from her hands and splattered on the ground. She ran toward him, concern etched onto her features. Her hair was gloriously long. She wore no makeup. Nor was she chewing gum.
    She ran to him and he held her, feeling foolish and pathetic. Why had he been so afraid? He could trust his children, of course he could; there should never be any doubt regarding that issue.
    “Where were you?” He was breathless.
    “We were here. Round about here. We got some ice cream and went looking for something to do.”
    It sounded like the truth, but Robert once again caught his children exchanging an unreadable glance. Connor noticed his scrutiny, and smiled. That was when he became certain his son was also lying, and that there was something happening here beyond his control as a parent and as a man. Despite his previous thought, he couldn’t trust them, not entirely. Or rather, he could not trust who or what they came into contact with.
    “Don’t do that again,” he said,