Part 19 (1/2)
”What's this, then?”
h.e.l.l.
He exploded from the bedclothes to grab the packet of condoms from Elizabeth as she tried to tear open the cellophane with her teeth.
”Ouch, Paul! Don't s.n.a.t.c.h.”
”It's not yours, Elizabeth.”
Oh my G.o.d, he thought, his face burning, can you imagine what his parents would say if Elizabeth had gone downstairs with those in her hands?
”I only wanted one piece.” She scowled. ”Greedy guts.”
”It isn't gum.” Sweating hard, he rolled out of bed and slid the condom packet high on a shelf where Elizabeth couldn't reach.
She went to bounce on his bed, her hair flying up and down. ”What were they then? Cigarettes?”
”No. You know they weren't cigarettes.”
”Might be little ones.”
”Why aren't you out playing?”
”I'm going to help make breakfast. What's in the packet?”
”Nosey.”
”I'll tell Dad.”
”They're just staples for the stapler. I've run out.”
”Why have you gone so red?” She licked her finger and held it out as if touching hot metal. ”Sss!” she hissed. ”I know what they are.” A grin spread across her face. ”You bought them from the drugstore.”
This time his entire body blazed hotly. ”It's just a pack of staples.”
”I don't believe you. You've got a girlfriend.”
The heat spread through every vein of his body. She was sure to snitch.
”You went to the drugstore because you've got a girlfriend.”
”Elizabeth-”
”You've gone and got some cream for your zits, haven't you?”
”I haven't got any zits, Elizabeth. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get dressed.”
Elizabeth gave the shelf where he'd left the condoms an appraising look, then before she grudgingly left the room she said, ”I'd buy another packet.” She grinned. ”You're going to need lots and lots now you've got a girlfriend.”
”Like I'm going to be covered with a million zits. Yeah, whatever, Elizabeth. Whatever.”
Giving a knowing smile, she echoed. ”Yeah, whatever, Paul. Whatever.”
Once she'd left the room he quickly moved the condoms from the shelf to a box beneath his bed.
The next time he met Miranda those little beauties would be in his pocket.
2.
Reading the letter wasn't easy. With it being Sat.u.r.day morning Val, Paul and Elizabeth were at home. Short of sneaking the letter into the bathroom to read it as if it was from a secret lover John Newton realized it might be some time before he could be alone.
By nine the day was already warm enough to sit out on the patio for breakfast. Sam showed no sign of his scare from the night before. He lay in the shade only glancing up as Elizabeth then Paul came out to join them for toast and fruit juice. The meal was relaxed. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. John did, however, find his eyes drawn to where the letter had made its mysterious appearance beneath the fragment of headstone. For some reason he expected there to be a stain or something on the stone slab where the letter had rested. Of course, that didn't make a lot of sense, John told himself. But there was some quality about the lettera as if it swarmed with bacteria or some unidentifiable contamination. Touching the letter with his bare fingers made him uneasy.
Again he found himself asking who would go to the trouble of finding sheets of antique paper-blank antique paper at that-then writing a message in it in a Gothic hand? And why had the hoaxer sent letters to such a disparate bunch of people? As far as John knew the recipients had been himself, a writer. Keith Haslem the lawyer. And Stan Price, an elderly and senile man. If it was someone's idea of a joke then it wasn't a particularly hilarious one.
A thought struck John all of a sudden. It was an uncomfortable thought at that. Maybe this was some perverse experiment? Maybe the letter sender intended to study the recipients' reactions. That put a different spin on things. He found himself scanning the hedges, then the meadows beyond, for a staring face, or the flash of reflected sunlight on a telescope lens. Was his family being watched as they sat out here eating toast?
h.e.l.l, now he did feel vulnerable. And all too exposed. After all, last night a man or woman had left the letter on that very paving slab in front of him. If nothing else, weren't they guilty of trespa.s.s? Come to that, they could easily have slipped into the house through the back door as he walked up by the lake with Sam. What might they have done then?
”Anything on your mind, John?” Val looked at him over the rim of her orange juice gla.s.s.
”Nothing much.” He smiled. ”I wondered if we had enough pork chops for the barbecue.”
”There's a full bag in the freezer. We could do with more mayonnaise though.”
”I'm going down to the supermarket later. I'll grab some then.”
”Don't forget the beer.”
He grinned. ”Don't worry. I won't.”
Paul heaped marmalade onto his toast. ”Bud for me, Dad. And plenty of it.”
”John have you been giving our son beer again?” Val pretended disapproval but she couldn't help but smile.
”Just the occasional one.” John returned the smile. ”To educate him as a responsible social drinker.”
”I'll wash the car for you this morning, Mum,” Paul said quickly.
”Why thank you very much,” she said, surprised. ”It could certainly do with it.”
”White shows dirt,” Elizabeth told her. ”You should have a black onea Emm's Dad's got two black cars. One has a roof that comes right down.”