Snarl by Celina Grace Read Free Book Online Page A

his fault and that was when he knew he’d picked the right one.
    Her name was Rosie and she was twenty-two, having just graduated from some no-mark university. Stuart bought her a drink, gave her his best cheeky-chappy grin and made sure she got a good look at his Plane Stupid T-shirt.
    “Were you at the Heathrow protest?” she asked, gesturing to his chest.
    “For sure. Were you?”
    She shook her head. “Not that one. We went along to the camp, though. That was where I met James, actually.”
    Stuart followed her gaze to one of the other protestors; a rangy, tall, dark-haired guy who was casting curious glances back at them. Rosie waved him over and introduced Stuart.
    “This is Mike,” she said. Stuart inclined his head slightly and held out his hand. After a moment of hesitation almost too brief to notice – although Stuart did notice, that’s what he was trained to do – James shook it.
    “All right?”
    “Yeah. Rosie was just telling me all about how you guys met.” Stuart had stepped back a little, out of Rosie’s personal space. Good decision, as the next moment had James sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.
    “You an activist, then, man?” James asked, with just the slightest hint of hostility in his voice.
    Stuart knew how to counter that. Find the commonality, find the shared experience – something that will soften someone towards you. There was always something. With James, it was his accent. Stuart had spent some time in Newcastle and he could hear the faint intonation of someone who’d once lived there – for how long, he couldn’t tell – but it was there, in James’s voice. That was his opening.
    “You know, man, I think I’ve met you before,” Stuart said, getting a nice mix of doubt and delight into his tone. “Did you go to Newcastle?”
    The faint suspici on clouding James face cleared. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. Did you?”
    Stuart improvised a quick story about visiting a mate at the university and hitting some of the student bars there. He mentioned a few names – “John, John Richards, you know him? No?” and when James came up with the names of several other Johns who’d been students there, Stuart was able to feign recognition and claim a vague acquaintance with one of them. This, coupled with a few anecdotes centred around some riotous drinking at the campus bar, was all that it took. A few pints later and James was his new best friend, Rosie shunted off to the side and almost forgotten.
    “You coming to the protest tomorrow?” James asked as they said goodbye at the end of the evening. Stuart was as sober as a judge, being a master in the art of seemingly drinking without actually doing so. The other activists were nine tenths drunk, falling against one another, laughing.
    “For sure,” said Stuart. “That’s why I’m here, man.”
    “Cool. See ya, then. Oh, and there’s a party tomorrow night, as well.”
    “Even better,” said Stuart, grinning. He winked at Rosie, bumped his fist against James’ and , raising a hand to the others, set off for the grim little bedsit he was renting for the duration of this job.

Chapter Five
    Andrew’s house had a very pleasant conservatory at the back of the kitchen, where one could sit drinking good coffee from a fine white china mug, toes snuggled into slippers, looking out at the pretty garden and distant hills beyond the back fence. Kate drew her dressing gown more snugly about herself and sipped her hot drink, watching the sparkle of the morning sunshine on the lawn, bejewelled with a million little beads of water.
    Andrew was busy in the kitchen and the delectable smell of frying bacon soon filled the room. Kate smiled to herself. Here she was, dressed in a fluffy white dressing gown, with her good coffee and her feet up on the bar under the table. The Sunday papers were scattered over the tabletop. She could almost imagine herself to be in a glossy photo-shoot of a lifestyle magazine. How did