The Wolves of London by Mark Morris Read Free Book Online

mean?’
    ‘It means a trump which you can’t hear, but which smells really, really bad.’
    Kate guffawed at this. The sound, echoing up and down the stairwell, was both delightful and alarming. She was still guffawing as she marched across the short hallway and rapped on the door of flat 4.
    ‘Well, somebody’s tickled by something,’ Paula Sherwood said, pulling the door open.
    ‘It’s Daddy,’ said Kate, her blue eyes widening behind her spectacles. ‘He’s been talking about trumps .’
    Paula’s long-lashed eyes flickered to regard me with amusement as Kate pushed her way into the flat, shouting for the Sherwoods’ son, Hamish. Paula was a strong-jawed brunette with startlingly pale grey eyes and a scattering of girlish freckles across her nose and cheeks. I admit I fancied her, and sometimes I even flirted with her, but never seriously. I got the impression that she and her husband Adam were rock-solid, besides which he was a nice bloke, and there was no way I wanted to make waves in either my life or theirs.
    I’d struck lucky with the Sherwoods. Because Hamish was the same age as Kate, Paula was only too happy to take the children to school every day, and pick them up, and look after Kate until I got home. She even babysat for me when I had to work late or on the rare occasions – like last night – when I went out. To be honest, they were a lifeline, and what I’d do if they moved away I had no idea; I didn’t want to think about it.
    I shrugged now and gave what I hoped was a wry grin. ‘What can I say? We’d covered politics and the economy. I was running out of subjects.’
    Paula chuckled, and then asked, ‘Are you all right, Alex?’
    I felt suddenly self-conscious about the sweat patches on my shirt. ‘Bit hot and bothered, that’s all. You know what it’s like, rushing around first thing in the morning.’
    ‘But last night,’ she said, ‘when you got home? You seemed a bit… preoccupied.’
    I shrugged again, trying not to look uncomfortable. ‘Just family stuff. Nothing major. Thanks a lot for last night, by the way. Don’t know what I’d do without you.’
    That sounded a bit more intimate than I’d meant it to, but Paula had the good grace not to react. Instead she said breezily, ‘No problem. Besides, you’d do the same for us – you have done the same for us.’
    It was true. I’d had Hamish round for sleepovers with Kate when the Sherwoods were out – but it hadn’t happened often. I owed them a lot more than they owed me.
    Grimacing, I said, ‘Listen, I don’t want to take advantage, but is there any chance you might be able to have Kate for a bit longer tonight? There’s something I may have to do after work.’
    She wafted a hand. ‘Sure. In fact, it’s easier having Kate here than not, because she keeps Hamish amused. If it was up to him, she’d live with us all the time.’
    As I thanked her there was a shriek from the depths of the flat. Paula raised her eyebrows. ‘I’d better get the little horrors off to school before they wreck the place. Have a good day, Alex.’
    ‘Yeah, you too.’
    I went back into my flat and closed the door. I’d have to be heading off to work myself soon, but I had the first period free, so there wasn’t a rush. I stood for a moment in the little hallway with the four doors leading off from it and took a deep breath, allowing my thoughts to settle. Then I walked slowly through to the kitchen to make myself yet another coffee, clearing away the breakfast things as I waited for the kettle to boil.
    I knew what I was doing. It’s called displacement activity. It’s where you find a bunch of unimportant tasks to occupy your time in order to put off what you really should be doing. Once I’d cleared the kitchen, I carried my coffee through to the living room, apprehension gnawing at me. Tucked into the corner between the French windows and the kitchen door was my desk, on top of which sat my Apple Mac, the telephone, and a