Stranded by Val McDermid Read Free Book Online Page A

floor, trying to hold it together. Not for myself, but for Elinor’s sake.
    They looked good together. Elinor’s sable hair, denim blue eyes and olive skin on one side of the table, a contrast to Claire’s blonde hair and surprising brown eyes. Where Elinor’s features were small and neat, Claire’s were strong and well-defined. She looked like someone you’d rather have on your side than against you. While Elinor looked nervous, her fingers picking at a cocktail coaster, Claire leaned back in her seat, a woman in command of her surroundings.
    As I approached, feeling hopelessly provincial next to their urban chic, Claire was first to her feet. ‘You must be Natasha,’ she said, her smile lighting her eyes. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you.’ I extended a hand, but her hand was on my shoulder as she leaned in to kiss me on both cheeks. ‘I’ve been telling Elinor off for keeping you to herself. I do hope you don’t mind me butting in, but I so wanted to meet you.’
    Control, then, I thought, daring to let myself feel relieved as I sat down at the table. At once, Claire stamped her authority on the conversation. How was I enjoying London? Was it as I expected? How were things in Russia? How was life changing for ordinary people?
    By the time we hit the second drink, she was flirting with me. She wanted to prove she could own me the way she owned her lover. Elinor was consigned to the sidelines, and her acquiescence to this confirmed all I believed about their relationship. My heart ached for her, an uneasy mixture of love and pity making me feel faintly queasy. I don’t know how I managed to eat dinner with them. All I wanted was to steal Elinor away, to prove to her she had the power to take her life back and make of it what she wanted.
    But of course, she left with Claire. And in the morning, I was on a plane back to St Petersburg, half-convinced that the only healthy thing for me to do was to end our relationship.
    I didn’t. I couldn’t. In spite of everything I know about the tentacles of emotional abuse, I found it impossible to reject the notion that I might somehow be Elinor’s saviour. So I kept on writing, kept on telling her how much I loved her when she called, kept on seeing her face in my mind’s eye whenever I slept with other people.
    More weeks trickled by, then out of the blue, an e-mail in a very different tone arrived.
    Natasha, darling. Can you get to Brussels next weekend? I need to see you. I can arrange air tickets if you can arrange a visa. Please, if it’s humanly possible, come to Brussels. I love you. E.
    I tried to get her to tell me what was going on, but she refused. All I could do was fix up a visa and collect the tickets from the travel agent. When Elinor opened the hotel room door, she looked a dozen years older than when I’d seen her in London. My first thought was that Claire had discovered our affair. But the truth was infinitely worse.
    We’d barely hugged when Elinor was moving away from me. She curled up in the room’s only armchair and covered her face with her hands. ‘I’m so scared,’ she said.
    I crouched down beside her and gently pulled her hands away from her face. ‘What’s wrong, Elinor?’
    She flicked her tongue along dry lips. ‘You know I’m mostly working with HIV patients now?’
    It wasn’t what I’d expected to hear, but somehow I already knew what was coming. ‘Yes, I know.’
    A deep, shuddering breath. ‘A few weeks ago, I got a needle stick.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Natasha, I’m HIV positive.’
    Intellectually, I knew this wasn’t a death sentence. So did Elinor. But in that instant, it felt like the end of the world. I couldn’t think of anything else that would assert her right to a future, so I cradled her in my arms and said, ‘Let’s make love.’
    At first, she resisted. But