Twisted Agendas by Damian McNicholl Read Free Book Online Page B

glanced at her neighbour’s ancient Morris Minor.
    “I don’t think it’s that close, Mrs. Hartley.”
    “It is.”
    Julia’s mobile rang and she took it from her bag. “There’s at least six to eight inches between our bumpers. I’ll try to park it further… oh, hello, Clive. Thanks
for calling back.” She held up her hand to signal to Mrs. Hartley that she wouldn’t be long. “Yes, fifty quid will be enough.” She laughed. “Of course, I’m worth
it. Listen, if you’re having it tight this month I understand. I’ll take whatever you can afford.”
    Mrs. Hartley shook her head. “Just see you park further away from my motor next time, Madam.” And she walked away.
    Lunchtime at The Pound and Penny, a Hammersmith pub serving excellent steak pies and boasting a small beer garden was always packed. As she pushed open one of the narrow double
front doors, Julia sent a young woman sipping a pint of lager scuttling into the chest of her male companion. Oblivious to the man’s scowl as he brushed beer off his silk tie, she scanned the
room for Clive while cutting a path through the throng. She found him bent over the jukebox in the billiard room next door.
    “There’s never anything decent to play on this thing,” he said, and kissed her on each cheek.
    “They don’t cater to club queens here, Clive.”
    “Hey, you want me to loan you fifty quid or not?”
    “I couldn’t resist that.”
    Clive reached up to the top of the jukebox and retrieved a glass from among the spent beer mugs and stack of whisky glasses. “I got you a gin-and-tonic.” He took out a folded bundle
of notes from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to her.
    “I’ll pay you back on Friday,” she said. “I promise.”
    A stocky, hirsute man with a wide forehead, his upper lip partially obscured by a long moustache half-coated in foam, Clive wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
    “Have I got a bit of juicy goss’ for you,” he said.
    “You know I don’t like gossip.”
    “Your boss is definitely shagging that stewardess you think is so good-looking.”
    Julia sighed. “I don’t care who he screws.”
    As a twenty-five-year-old, pretty immigration officer who’d now worked one year at Heathrow, Julia’s objective was to avoid office politics and airport gossip. She wanted only to
work her way through the ranks and get promoted as quickly as government jobs allowed.
    “Have you asked round the airline if anyone needs to rent a room?” she asked.
    “Nobody knows anyone wanting to move. But I’ll keep my ear cocked.”
    “I’ve had no responses from my ad and it’s such a pain having to keep the house constantly tidy.” Julia sighed heavily and took a large gulp of gin. “You should
have seen me yesterday afternoon. I attacked the living room with a vengeance, dragging the hoover around with one hand and a duster in the other. I need to find someone fast or I’ll lose the
house.”
    “Sell the Jag. That thing guzzles petrol. Buy a Mini.” He laughed. “It’d make your neighbour very happy by the sound of it.”
    “Oh, please. Can you really see me in a Mini?”

Peculiar questions
    She wondered if she’d made a mistake. Piper thought he was open, honest and very friendly. Certainly he’d behaved that way on the ferry and during the ride to
London. She didn’t question his integrity. The guy had already paid rent even though she’d told him it wasn’t necessary. He’d also chipped in forty pounds towards the
purchase of food, something her regular tenant Pat had never offered.
    She just didn’t understand why he’d become so reserved. He’d hardly spoken the first evening when she’d generously cooked dinner for him, even gone to the trouble of
inviting her neighbour Sonia Berg so he could meet new people. And then the peculiar question he’d asked, what she thought about illegally altered guns, while they watched the news this
evening. It was very strange. All they’d been