Perfect Strangers: an unputdownable read full of gripping secrets and twists. Erin Knight

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СКАЧАТЬ high school girls with matching back-combed hair and shortened school ties arrived at Cleo’s shoulder. ‘Mum, can me and Cassie just grab a sandwich and run? The school canteen’s rammed and everything’s fried as usual.’

      ‘I told Evie she doesn’t need to diet, Mrs R,’ sighed the other girl.

      ‘Hello girls,’ beamed Cleo. ‘No, you can’t, you can queue like everyone else.’

      Cleo’s daughter rolled her eyes. She had pretty eyes; too much make-up, but that was teenage girls for you, and quite a few teenage boys too.

      Isobel gathered her things. ‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow, Cleo, early again, unless next-door’s dog decides to let me lie in.’

      ‘You should complain. I probably know them. I could complain for you, if you like? I’m already ticking locals off. Are you staying in the harbour?’

      Sophie had been explicitly clear on this point. Do not tell anyone where you’re staying.

      ‘No, it’s just a small place, past the dunes. A cottage, I forget the name.’

      ‘Not Curlew Cottage? Arthur Oakes’ place? At the top of the lung-busting hill?’

      Isobel hesitated. ‘Ah . . . yep.’ She wouldn’t tell Sophie.

      ‘Oh, that dog. You must have nerves of steel staying up there. Nearly had my husband’s head off when he went to quote for guttering last autumn. Sam wouldn’t even get out of his van, said it had gone rogue!’

      ‘Didn’t Mr Oakes feed his wife to that dog?’ Evie grinned.

      ‘Evie, don’t be so dramatic. They didn’t even have the dog when Mrs Oakes moved away. Teenage girls’ overactive imaginations, honestly!’

      ‘You wouldn’t go up there on a dark night, would you, Mum? Even his wife doesn’t want to be up there. If she’s still alive, that is.’

      ‘Oh, Evie. Sometimes people just . . . grow apart.’

      ‘Chill, Mother. I’m only playing.’ Evie glanced at Isobel. ‘That dog won’t hurt you. It just doesn’t like men, that’s all. Bet he doesn’t bark at you, am I right?’ Isobel hadn’t really thought about it. Evie shrugged. ‘Just don’t take any strange men up there.’

      ‘Thanks. Wasn’t planning on it.’

      ‘Have you met his sons yet, Isobel?’ asked Cleo. ‘You’re in for a treat. Gorgeous, the both of them.’

      ‘OMG, that bangle is gorgeous. Can I see?’ Evie reached for Isobel’s wrist without warning.

      ‘Evie! Stop haranguing my customers!’

      It had been a get-well gift from Sophie and Ella. Isobel lifted her arm for Evie to take a quick look, but she’d already caught Isobel gently by the elbow. ‘Mum, look! You wanted birthday ideas, something like this would be perfect.’ Evie turned to Isobel. ‘Could I try it on?’

      ‘Evie!’

      ‘What? I won’t run out of the door with it, Mum, jeez.’ Isobel was nothing to do with this conversation. She undid the clasp, obediently slipping off the silver cuff.

      ‘Sorry, Isobel. Oh, it really is lovely,’ agreed Cleo, admiring the bracelet shuffling on to Evie’s tanned wrist. ‘It looks expensive though, Evie.’

      ‘Harry’s asked for a drum kit, they’re not cheap.’

      Cleo threw Isobel an exasperated look. ‘My accountant keeps telling me it won’t be my business bankrupting me . . . it’ll be those twins!’

      Isobel shrugged. ‘Sorry, I have no idea what it cost. It was a birthday present.’ She tucked her hair behind her ear. Evie’s focus shifted.

      ‘How about something that costs less than jewellery and lasts a lifetime, Mum?’

      Cleo looked at Isobel’s wrist too. ‘Oh no, lady. You have got absolutely no chance.’

      ‘But everyone else has them, look!’ Evie was nodding at Isobel. Exhibit A. ‘It’s different now, tattoos aren’t just for thugs and sailors!’

      Evie’s friend guffawed. ‘My dad’s got loads, but he is actually a sailor and a bit of a thug. Mum’s just got the divorce through, Mrs R.’

      ‘Shh, Cassie. Look, Mum, it’s really cute and girly. Little Red Riding Hood!’

      Isobel pulled her jacket sleeve down to her knuckles and waited for the bangle to come back. She’d told Sophie all the reasons she wanted rid of the tattoo. Sophie had swung into fix-it mode and the bracelet had been on Isobel’s wrist that night. Dealt with. Covered up. Sophie-style.

      ‘No. Way. End of conversation, Evie.’

      ‘Mum, I look way older than fifteen, I could just go anyway

      . . .’

      ‘Evie!’ Cleo sang. ‘I strongly advise you do no such thing. Now, I won’t be swayed so zip it. Tattoos are just . . . just . . .’ She looked another apology at Isobel.

      ‘Tacky? Common?’ Isobel offered light-heartedly. ‘It’s fine, Cleo, really.’ She’d never been a tattoo fan either, but Sophie had talked her into their sisterly pact, and they’d done so little as sisters that it had seemed worthwhile and overdue to do something lasting and memorable together. Stupid.

      Cleo gritted her teeth. ‘I was going to say, easy to regret. They’re just so easy to regret.’

      ‘Do you regret yours?’ fired Evie. She was staring at Isobel now. Isobel rubbed her wrist. It was fairly boring as tattoos went. Sophie had challenged her to shock their parents for a change and do something out of character. Isobel had talked her on to a middle ground: she’d go through with it but they had to have similar designs, and they had to be literary-based, so Isobel could at least impress her English students who up until then suspected she was chronically strait-laced. It had been an easy choice, the favourite book they’d listened to a hundred times snuggled on their dad’s lap. Red Riding Hood had made it on to Isobel’s wrist, the Big Bad Wolf on to Soph’s.

      Evie was waiting for an answer. ‘Honestly?’ Isobel asked. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Yes?’ frowned Evie.

      ‘Yes. I regret it every day. It was fun at first. Now it’s just a reminder.’

      Evie cocked her head. ‘A reminder of what?’

      Don’t be led. Don’t be distinguishable. Protect your anonymity.

      ‘To make better choices, Evie. It reminds me to make better choices.’

13

      Cleo skipped out of Coast, earrings glinting in the sun. ‘Isobel! Hang on!’ she yelled over the heads of the diners sitting on the terrace, every one of them enjoying the view from behind dark sunglasses of СКАЧАТЬ