Secret Smile by Nicci French Read Free Book Online

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excessively ambitious exercise. I got back to the flat having achieved that
without much difficulty.
     
     
    'Hello? Miranda? I just wanted
    I picked up the phone.
    'Hi, Mum.'
    'I didn't wake you, did I?'
    'No. I was about to leave.'
    'I just wanted to thank you for yesterday.
I was going to ring last night, but then Kerry and Brendan stayed so long... It
all went well, didn't it?'
    'It was very nice.'
    'Doesn't Kerry seem happy?'
    'Yes.'
    'Do you know what? I think it's a
miracle.'
    'Mum...'
    'A miracle,' she repeated. 'When I think
how,,,' I closed my eyes and the words slid into each other. I was going to be
good.
     
     
    'Hi Miranda. It's me, Kerry. Miranda? Are
you there?' There was a silence, then a man's voice in the background, though I
couldn't catch what he said. Kerry giggled, then said, 'We just wanted to say
how are you, and it would be nice to meet up again sometime. What's that? ...
Oh, Brendan says hello from him too...' I pressed the button to erase the message.
     
     
    I ran three times that week and I didn't
notice any discernible difference. My lungs still hurt as soon as I jogged more
than fifty paces; my legs still felt like lead and my heart a stone jolting
around inside my ribcage. On hills, people often walked briskly past me. But at
least I persevered, and I felt good about that.
     
     
    On Friday evening, I went out to a party
given by my friends Jay and Pattie. I danced and drank beer and then wine, and
then some strange schnapps from Iceland that Pattie found at the back of her
cupboard when most of her guests had left and we were at the lovely stage of
the night, when you don't need to make an effort any more. A dozen or so of us
sat around in their dimly lit living room, which was strewn with beer cans and
fag ends and odd shoes, and sipped cautiously at the schnapps, which made my
eyes water. There was a man I'd met, his name was Nick. He sat cross-legged on
the floor in front of me, and after a bit he leaned against my knees, relaxing
his weight. I could feel the sweat on his back. I waited a few minutes and then
I put my hand on his hair, which was short and soft and brown, like an animal's
fur. He gave a little sigh and tipped his head back so 1 could see his
upside-down face. He was smiling faintly. I leaned forwards and kissed him
quickly on his smile.
    When I left, he asked me if I'd like to
see him again.
    'Yes,' I replied. 'OK.'
    'I'll call you.'
    'Do that.'
    We looked at each other. Beginnings are so
very lovely, like smashing that first small hole in the wall and glimpsing a
world on the other side.
     
    CHAPTER 7
     
    Nick did call two days later. There seems
to be a strict code about when you call, the way there used to be a code about
on which date to kiss for the first time. If you call on the same day, you're
virtually a stalker. If you call the day after, you're maybe a bit desperate
because, as the first day is out of the question, the second day is really the
first day, so you're calling on the first day. If they're going to call at all,
people call on the third day. If you wait longer than the third day, you might
as well not call at all. The person will have either married or emigrated.
Personally I've never paid any attention to the code. Life is too short. If it
had been me, I would have called the moment I was home.
    So Nick called and it was all pretty
simple. We arranged to meet the next evening at a bar in Camden Town. I was
five minutes early and he was a few minutes late. He was wearing faded jeans
and a checked shirt which hung loosely under his leather jacket. He was
unshaven and his eyes were very dark brown, almost black.
    'You're a decorator,' he said. 'Pattie
told me. And I can see some paint in your hair.'
    I rubbed my hair self-consciously.
    'There's nothing I can do about it,' I
said. 'However much I check, there's always a spot somewhere round the back
I've missed. It falls off in the end.'
    When I meet people, they become improbably
excited by the