Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 10

The next day Clara cried off our plans. She'd had a better offer of course.

Robert the only man in two years who'd managed to last more than five dates had booked them a weekend away and who was I to stand in the way of a rare opportunity for Clara to learn more about a guy than just his surname, his salary and what size underwear he wore.

"Wow, Clara," I had smiled when she had appeared on my doorstep to break the news. "You must really like this guy."

A frown crossed her pretty face and she self-consciously twirled a blonde lock of hair around her finger, avoiding my eyes. "Yeah, he's pretty special."

I looked at her in surprise, almost spilling the coffee on the counter as I poured us both a large mug. "Special? I think I need to meet this guy. I'm not sure I've heard you call anyone special since Jonathan."

She wrinkled up her nose in distaste. Jonathan had been one of Brandon's work friends and for a while it had looked as if he and Clara might last the distance; that was until an incident at work, which was never explained to me, meant Jonathan got fired and then inexplicably he told Clara he was moving away and didn't intend on her joining him. She'd been heartbroken of course, but when it happened Brandon had just smiled and said that it was the best fucking thing Jonathan had ever done. I wasn't sure if he meant Jonathan moving away or dumping Clara, but I had a sneaky suspicion he meant the latter.

"Well trust me, Jonathan doesn't even compare to this guy."

She glanced around the large spacious kitchen as she sipped her coffee, casting an appreciative eye over the room. "You know, you're really lucky to have all this."

Clara had made no bones about the fact she adored our house. When we had moved in, she had wandered the rooms cooing and squealing as she entered each one, running her hands over drapes and furniture, her eyes alight and sparkling. And she never failed to remind me how fortunate I was.

"Yeah, I know." I forced a smile.

"What?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You don't think so?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," I nodded.

"Then what was that face for?"

"What face?" I replied innocently.

She placed her cup down on the counter and stood with her hands on her hips, shooting me a stern look. "You know exactly what I mean and don't try to pretend you don't."

I sighed. "I know I'm really lucky. This house is.....well, it was everything we dreamed of. It's just...." I glanced around warily as if I expected someone might be listening. I didn't trust this house anymore. The daylight might have banished the shadows, but I knew they were here somewhere, just waiting for night to fall so they could continue their assault.

"What is it, Megs?" she said, concerned now.

I wanted her to stop looking at me. I felt sure that the closer she looked, the more she would see what I had done and she would know that it was my fault that this place was tainted now. I had ruined it. I had ruined it all.

"Look, it's no big deal," I shrugged. "I just wish Brandon didn't have to go away so much."

Clara's eyes widened briefly, before she threw her head back, her thick blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, and she laughed, loud and hard. I flinched at her reaction and bit my lip.

"Oh Megs, is that it?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "God, I thought you were going to say something terrible. He doesn't go away that much."

"Clara, it's every month."