The Hook by Raffaella Barker Read Free Book Online Page B

window. It was already dark on the other wall and the last rays waned, shrinking the room towards Mick and Christy facing one another in the glowing window. Mick ate her food as well as his own, holding his fork like a shovel as she had been taught never to do, wiping the plate clean with bread and rubbing his hands across his mouth when he had finished; she half expected him to burp and push his plate back but he leant his elbows on the table and picked his teeth instead. Christy pushed some grains of rice around her plate then smoked four cigarettes in a row. She could never eat with Mick. His vast appetite swallowed hers, and his energetic pursuit of every morsel repelled her, making food something too physical for her to bear.
    Mick finished cleaning his teeth and left the table to light the fire. He crouched on the hearth breaking kindling, light as a cat on his feet even though he was filling the whole fireplace with his body. Christy tiptoed past Mick’s turned back and tucked herself into the chair by the fire.
    â€˜What do you think of this place, sweetheart? Do you like it out here in the sticks?’ His voice was smooth as glass to steady her now they had moved from the table.
    In the half light he loomed and Christy receded sinking back in monochrome shadows, her pink dress the only colour in the room. She didn’t answer.
    Mick laughed.
    â€˜Are you still here, Christy? I can’t see you now, and I can’t hear you. You’re scared as all hell, aren’t you?’
    â€˜I’m not scared, I’m nervous.’
    â€˜Same thing,’ said Mick and he stretched out on the sofa, leaning back to look at her bolt upright on her chair near the fireplace.
    She wished he would turn the lights on. The heap of him merged with the heap of sofa, spreading across the whole room. Neither of them spoke. And then Mick was holding her hands and his hands were so warm she realised hers were frozen. And he was putting his arms around her, unbending her clamped elbows and wrapping her arms around him. And he was kissing her, making her feel so wanted that she did not notice that she wasn’t nervous any more.
    Christy woke up stretching in warm morning light. She was in Mick’s bedroom and the telephone was ringing downstairs. She heard him answer it, his voice clear at first then rumbling indistinct but constant like a train passing. She couldn’t help smiling, thinking that even at seven-thirty he couldn’t stop talking.
    He appeared in the bedroom, dressed and wide awake.
    â€˜You get up early.’ Christy pulled the sheets up to her face, self-conscious at being naked in daylight when Mick had clothes on. He smelt of coffee when he kissed her. ‘I thought you’d be asleep. I have tocollect something now, so I’ll be seeing you later, sweetheart.’ He stroked her hair and was gone.
    Christy rolled over and closed her eyes, listening to the car roar away until the sound was so distant it mingled with the moving trees.
    From the beginning of the trial everyone knew I was Mick’s girlfriend. The policemen with macho guns who guarded every entrance, the court clerks, even the traffic warden, who had stopped giving me tickets when a constable told him who I was. They smiled at me with sad sympathy in their eyes and whispered ‘Poor love’ when I passed.
    Mick was delighted.
    â€˜It’ll really help the atmosphere with the jury and their mood and all that if everyone feels sorry for you, sweetheart,’ he told me during one of our visits.
    â€˜But I don’t know if they’re sorry for me because of what might happen to you or because I’m involved with you.’
    Mick stretched his fingers under the glass screen and touched my hand.
    â€˜It doesn’t matter what they’re thinking. Just look tragic and wronged as often as you can and be drop-dead sexy the rest of the time. They’ll love you, Christy, they’ll love