Painkillers by Simon Ings Read Free Book Online Page B

cleaned the cut, then used a pair of eyebrow tweezers to pull the bits out. I told her not to probe so deep, to let me go and get the cut seen to properly, but she wasn't listening. I winced and tugged away. She leaned her wrist into mine, pinning my hand against the table, and probed still deeper.
    'Fuck! Shit!'
    'Oh, grow up,' she muttered, peering myopically into the tear.
    Eddie was taunting his pursuers, knocking one after the other off the top of the HSBC building in ever more gymnastic and unlikely ways. It was like watching music. Like jazz. Like the dialogue you get between guitars. Eddie was much fitter then.
    She rummaged about in the cake box and came out with paper sachet. She tore it open and withdrew a bright, scythe-shaped needle. Now I was really in trouble. 'I'd rather - '
    'Oh Adam,' she said, losing patience with me, 'I do this all the time for the boys.'
    The girl in the bikini had revived and was being comforted by her faithful, somewhat boyish female companion.
    I thought about Brian and Eddie - their scarred arms.
    'The scraps they get into, if I hadn't learned how by now we'd never be out of Casualty.'
    'But my palm - '
    'Put your hand on the table.'
    'Cab's here,' said Zoe, leaning in.
    'Tell him we'll be a few minutes.'
    'I can - '
    'Oh for God's sake Adam keep still.'
    I swallowed. 'Is that proper surgical thread?'
    'For heaven's sake,' she sighed. She pressed the needle in.
    'Christ!'
    'What now?'
    'You can't just poke it in like that.'
    'Why not?'
    'Because it hurts, you stupid bitch. It hurts, damn it.'
    She blinked at me. 'Brian and Eddie don't carry on like this,' she said.
    'Here,' said Zoe, coming in again. She handed me a glass. It was so full the rum dribbled off my fingers.
    'What?' she said, meeting my eyes with her hungry, Siamese smile.
    'Now. Adam,' said Money, 'hold still.'
    Zoe hunkered down beside me and slid her arm round my shoulders. I looked away, at her hand. The long bones of her fingers, her delicate wrist, the blue tracery under her skin. I smelled her again. Money's needle went in, and out, and in.
    8.
    The letter came lunchtime the following day, franked Hong Kong, with a government stamp. Eva saw.
    'Aren't you going to open it?' she said.
    It was thin - a single sheet. A friendly one-liner from a former colleague? A formal summons on ICAC
    letterhead? Would it make any difference, which it was? I crammed it unopened into the inside pocket of my jacket, drew the jacket off the chair and slipped it on, one-handed. 'Let's get going,' I said.
    'You can't drive in that state.' Eva pulled the plug out of the sink and snapped free of her rubber gloves. We'd just eaten a late lunch, and planned to get to Knox Lodge by 4.30. 'Why won't you listen? We'll have an accident.'
    'Tell you what,' I said, kicking the kitchen door open. The warped wood grated sickeningly on the stone step. 'You keep rehearsing that idea - see if you can make it happen.'
    There was a narrow leaf-sodden path connecting the basement area to the garage. She followed me out in her slippers.
    'Adam, I am really not that interested in your fragile ego, I am - '
    'I'm driving,' I said. I unlocked the garage door and pulled it up on its rollers with my good hand. I glanced at her, ready for the next round, but she had gone back inside. The garage was on the same level as the kitchen, which was to say seven foot below the road. The drive was absurdly steep - there were steps set into one side because you couldn't walk the slope without them. In winter sometimes the whole thing became an ice-ramp. When we were visiting Justin once, the AA had to winch us onto the road.
    The Xedos needed cleaning - I tried not to rub against it as I sidled towards the driver's door. I took a moment to fuss about with the controls, adjusting wing mirrors and the seat position so I could drive comfortably one-armed. Eva had insisted we buy an automatic and for once I was grateful. I reversed up the steep drive and onto the street. Eva