a moment, he pulled a medical tin out of his pocket, opened it, took out the syringe filled with an overdose of anaesthetic he had intended to give Alexander and squirted it out of the window. He put the syringe back in the tin and drove away from Mercy Hill Care Home.
'Hello there,' Gwen said, as Julia opened the door of Jackson Leaves. 'Sorry to disturb you, but I'm from the Council and I just need to ask you a couple of questions.'
Julia checked the identification Gwen was offering and nodded reluctantly once she admitted it all looked in order.
'It's a bit of a mess at the moment,' she said, letting Gwen in and leading her through to the kitchen. 'I still haven't finished unpacking.'
'Never fun, is it?' said Gwen, sitting down at the kitchen table.
'No,' Julia admitted. 'Especially when you're by yourself.'
'Just you then, is it?' Gwen asked. 'Big place for someone on their own.'
'I inherited it from my aunt,' Julia said. 'She rattled around in here for years. I don't think I will.'
'Oh?'
'No… Can't say I like the place much. I'm planning on letting it out. Students, maybe.'
'Oh yes? Why not, eh? Plenty of room.'
'Yeah. I've advertised, but no takers yet. If nobody turns up, I might just sell it, get one of those new apartments at SkyPoint.'
Gwen squirmed. 'I hear they're not all they're cracked up to be.'
'Really?' Julia sighed. 'Just fancied something a bit more modern. Place like this, it's just too…'
'Full of ghosts?' Gwen smiled.
'Something like that.' Julia wiped pointlessly at the kitchen worktop, nervous and wanting something to distract her. 'Well, whatever I decide to do, I need to smarten the place up a bit. Don't suppose you know anyone cheap and reliable, do you? I'm hopeless at that sort of thing. My ex used to do it all, but he's…'
'Yes?'
'Accident at work… I'd rather not go into it.'
'Of course,' Gwen said, getting to her feet. 'I quite understand, and it really is none of my business. Look… This is obviously a bad time. Maybe we can do this over the phone in a couple of weeks?'
'That would be better. Thank you.'
They walked back along the hall to the front door, Gwen stepping outside and smiling as she handed Julia a fake business card. 'I'll call you next month,' she said. 'It's nothing major, just some work we're doing in the area. Oh…' She bent over to pick something up off the gravel. 'Don't leave that lying around. You never know, do you?' She handed the lottery ticket to Julia.
'That's not mine,' Julia said. 'I never do the lottery.'
'Well, it's definitely not mine,' Gwen said. 'I always play the same numbers, my husband's birthday… You may as well hold on to it — never know your luck!'
'I suppose.' Julia didn't seem at all convinced but put the ticket in her pocket anyway.
'Maybe you won't have to worry about finding workmen after all.' Gwen smiled and walked down the drive, waving goodbye over her shoulder.
'Well?' Jack asked as she moved past him and headed for the SUV.
'She's fine. False memory's holding.'
'Good.'
'Excuse me,' came a voice from behind him.
Jack turned to see a young woman jogging towards him.
'Help you?' he asked.
'Hope so!' the girl replied. 'I'm looking for a place that's advertising rooms around here. Nina Rogers…' She stuck out her hand.
'Pleased to meet you, Nina Rogers!' Jack smiled, shaking her hand.
'I'm at the Uni, you wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find somewhere to stay.'
'I can imagine-'
'They're all really expensive or really grotty, or both, I went to this one place, and I swear there were things living in the walls.'
Jack glanced towards Gwen, neither quite sure if they should be worried.
'Like cockroaches or something,' Nina added, her eyes never leaving Jack's face. 'The old guy there probably breeds them, he smelt like the sort, y'know… mouldy… He wore this cardigan that I swear would have stood up on its own, weird guy, wouldn't have stayed there even if the place had been nice, you just can tell about some people, can't you? Not the sort of people you want calling for the rent, if you know what I mean…'
'And breathe…' muttered Gwen with a smile.
'Sorry!' said Nina, rolling her eyes. 'I go on, don't I? Anyway, I've got the advert somewhere…' She dug around in her bag. 'I don't know you, do I?' she said, still looking at Jack.
'Wouldn't be surprised,' Gwen told herself in the SUV's wing mirror.
'I don't think so,' Jack replied with a slight frown.
'He gets around.' Gwen added.
'Here it is!' Nina pulled the advert out. 'Julia Wallace, place called Jackson Leaves.'
'Full, I'm afraid,' Jack said quickly.
'Oh no!' Nina sighed.
'I know. We've actually just come from there. Known the place for years… Hope you find somewhere nice, though.'
Jack headed quickly towards Gwen and the SUV.
'Why did you say that?' Gwen asked. 'You know Julia's looking for tenants.'
'I'm sure the place is OK now, but let's not take the risk. Besides, it's not like Julia will need the money once she cashes in that ticket. It's all worked out just fine, hasn't it?'
Gwen frowned as she glanced at a 'lost' poster on a nearby lamp post — Hannah Ogilvy smiling in an old Christmas photo, paper hat on her head and Christmas-tree earrings that were as jolly as her smile. 'Not for everyone,' she said.
'No,' Jack replied, 'but sometimes you just have to settle for the majority- Watch it!' he shouted as a teenaged boy shoved past him and ran off up the road. 'Wait a minute…' he began checking his pockets.
Gwen was laughing. 'Did you not see who that was?' she asked.
'He took my wallet!'
Jack began to run after him, but Gwen didn't think he stood much of a chance. From what she could see, Danny Wilkinson was a fast runner.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to all the people who had to put up with me while writing this book. My family, who now understand the art of writing: do nothing until the last minute and then type frantically, screaming and begging for the world to end the day before the delivery date. Albert and Nick at BBC Books for keeping a roof over our heads during this process by sending cheques. Steve Tribe not only for giving me the gig in the first place but also for having a name so macho that one cannot help but feel reassured… I picture him as a literary Doug McClure beating primeval creatures to death while correcting my grammar. I hope I never meet him… it's so disheartening to have one's dreams shattered. And, of course, Morris and Pinborough; who'd have thought it, eh?
The rest of you? You're in the book, what more do you want?
