Love, Lies And Louboutins. Katie Oliver

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СКАЧАТЬ startled Jools out of a deep sleep. Now there’s a sound you don’t hear in Maida Vale, she thought sleepily as she sat up. She blinked in the bright shaft of daylight that penetrated the thick brocade curtains, and glanced at the bedside clock to see that it was nearly eleven. Adesh was still sound asleep.

      Careful not to disturb him, she pushed the covers aside and got up, wincing as a floorboard creaked beneath her feet. She desperately needed the loo…and she was bloody starving.

      Jools hoped one of the kitchen cupboards downstairs unearthed something to eat.

      There was a small bathroom at the top of the stairs; she went in, shut the door, and had just finished washing up and splashing her face with cold water when she heard something downstairs.

      She froze. It sounded like…a footstep. A quiet, stealthy footstep, as if the intruder knew someone was upstairs.

      Shit. Was it the Bombers? Had they tracked her and Adesh down to Barrow Cottage already? It seemed unlikely, and yet – there was definitely someone moving around down there.

      Her heart in her throat, Jools turned and made her way as quietly as possible back to the bedroom. She stifled a shriek as she ran smack-bang into Adesh in the hallway.

      “Did you hear it?” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear as he gripped her shoulders.

      Desh nodded grimly. “Stay here while I go have a look.”

      “No way! I’m going with you.” She wasn’t being brave, really; she was far more terrified of being left alone.

      By now Adesh knew better than to argue, and together they made their way cautiously to the top of the stairs. Desh grabbed a poker from the bedroom fireplace and clutched it tightly. Jools hovered behind him, terror warring with determination inside her.

      I’m not going back into that van with that Turkish lot, she vowed silently. No bloody way.

      They stopped as another floorboard creaked downstairs. The sound was closer, now. The intruder was coming – slowly, purposefully, quietly – towards the staircase.

      Adesh took a deep breath and stepped forward, brandishing the poker; at the same time, a man materialized in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs, a gun in his hands.

      “Don’t move, either of you.” The man’s arm was upraised and his gaze was steady as he leveled the barrel of his pistol squarely on the two of them. “Or I’ll blow your heads off.”

       Chapter 11

      Jools cried out and shoved Adesh sideways. She heard a loud explosion as the gun fired into the wall just behind them, splintering the bathroom’s doorjamb and sending bits of wood flying.

      “Don’t move,” the man at the foot of the stairs commanded as he cocked the hammer, “or I’ll fire again. And this time I won’t miss.”

      His faint Australian accent was oddly familiar. Jools peered – very cautiously – around Desh’s shoulder. “Uncle Jack?” she said, incredulous.

      “Hello, Julia.” He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her. His blue eyes – and the gun’s sights – remained on Adesh. “And who’s this?”

      “Adesh,” she said quickly. “Adesh Patel. It’s okay, we’re…” she hesitated and added defiantly ‘we’re together, Desh and I. We let ourselves in last night. I didn’t think you’d mind. We thought…”

      “You thought you’d hide from your new Turkish friends,” Jack finished, and lowered his gun.

      “They’re not exactly our friends,” Adesh snapped. “They grabbed us off the street. Why the hell did you shoot at us? We could’ve been killed!”

      “Believe me, if I’d wanted to kill you,” Jack said as he re-holstered his weapon, “you’d already be dead.”

      Jools pushed past Adesh and came down the stairs. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

      “Leaving aside for the moment the fact that this is my cottage,” Jack responded evenly, “I should be asking you that question.” His eyes were still fixed on Desh’s.

      “Listen, I’m starving,” Jools said, not only because it was true, but to alleviate the palpable tension between Jack and Adesh. She brushed past her uncle and made her way down the hall to the kitchen. “We’ll tell you all about it – but first, is there anything to eat in this place?”

      “As it happens,” Jack said as he followed her into the kitchen, “you’re in luck. I brought a few groceries along. I’ll just ring your mum and dad and let them know you’re all right.”

      “That’d be great, thanks.” She cast him a quizzical glance. “How’d you know we don’t have our mobiles?”

      “The police report. Your mother said you’d left yours behind, something – according to her – that you never do.”

      A grudging smile tugged at the corners of Jools’s lips. “She’s right. I take my phone everywhere. Don’t know why I didn’t take it last night.” Her smile faded. “Probably because of the row Mum and I had after I got home.”

      “How about I make us all a late brekkie after I ring your folks with the happy news? How does that sound?” Jack asked.

      “That sounds perfect.” She hesitated. “Tell them…tell Mum I’m okay. And I’m sorry.”

      Jack nodded briefly. He paused in front of Adesh, who was leaning against the doorjamb with a guarded expression on his face. “I’ll call your mum as well,” Jack added. “She and your dad are in a proper state.”

      “Thanks,” Adesh mumbled.

      Jack left to make the calls, and Jools began pulling stuff out of the bags he’d left on the table.

      “So this guy’s your uncle?” Adesh asked in a low voice.

      As she withdrew a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, and tins of baked beans and kippers, Jools nodded. “We don’t see him often, but he always brings loads of pressies at Christmas. And he never forgets my birthday—”

      “And he carries a gun and shoots at people like – like some kind of an Australian James Bond.”

      She shrugged. “I don’t know what he does, exactly, and I never asked. All I know is he sells weapons.” She glanced at him and added crossly, “Well, don’t just stand there. You can make the toast. Oh – and find a pan for the baked beans. If you don’t help, you don’t eat.”

      “Shit, you’re bossy,” he grumbled, but twisted the loaf of bread open and thrust a couple of slices into the toaster.

      “Someone has to be,” she retorted.

      “I reckon you’ll make some poor bloke a good wife one day.”

      She paused, eggs in hand. “Really? Because I can cook?”

      “No. СКАЧАТЬ