Love, Lies And Louboutins. Katie Oliver
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Название: Love, Lies And Louboutins

Автор: Katie Oliver

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Контркультура

Серия: Marrying Mr Darcy

isbn: 9781474028349

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ of beans, dumped them into a saucepan and set it on the hob. “I met Chara last week.”

      “Chara?” She began to crack the eggs, one by one, into a bowl. “Isn’t she the girl your parents want you to marry?”

      He nodded but didn’t look at her. “Yeah.”

      “But, Adesh – an arranged marriage?” Her expression was incredulous. “You don’t even know this girl! And you said you wanted no part of such an outdated tradition.”

      “I didn’t.” He shrugged. “But things change. It’s worked out well for my parents, after all. They’ve been after me to meet her, to give her a chance. So I did. And – she’s okay.”

      “So now you want to marry her? A complete stranger?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But it doesn’t hurt to get to know her a bit.”

      Jools’s hand tightened on the whisk as she beat the eggs, but – although she wanted to say a great many things - she said nothing. She and Adesh weren’t dating, exactly; they were just friends who hung out sometimes. It was none of her concern what he did. But she liked him. He was different to anyone else she knew.

      And she didn’t want to see him get hurt.

      Fifteen minutes and somewhat of a mess later, breakfast was ready. They sat at the kitchen table, stuffing themselves on eggs, beans, rashers of bacon, and thickly buttered toast with marmalade. Nothing – at least not to Jools – had ever tasted as good as that fry-up did.

      “All right, then, tell me what happened,” Jack said as he mopped up the last of his over-easy egg yolk with a piece of toast, “straight from the beginning.”

      Adesh set aside his toast and told Jack about the Bombers, and the protection money his father couldn’t afford to pay. He related their terrifying journey in the back of the van and subsequent escape at the petrol station.

      “Did either of you get a look at any of the men who grabbed you?” Jack asked.

      Jools shook her head. “It happened so fast. One minute we were waiting on Deepa’s doorstep, and the next…they grabbed us.”

      “Do you remember any details? Hair colour, what they were wearing, what they said?”

      “Dark hair. They didn’t speak English. It sounded like…Turkish.” She paused and added slowly, “I saw two men standing on the corner when we first got there, smoking. They glanced at us,” she remembered, “and then they looked away. I didn’t pay much attention. But they gave me a bad feeling.”

      “Why?”

      Jools shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. I felt as if they were watching us. Waiting.”

      “But you don’t remember what they looked like?”

      She shook her head. “Not really. Like I said, they had dark hair, and leather jackets, and jeans. Sorry I’m so useless, but it was nearly dark.”

      “They dragged us to the van and then they blindfolded us,” Adesh added.

      Jools nodded slowly. “Whoever grabbed me smelled of cigarette smoke.” She lifted her gaze to her uncle’s. “And one of the men on the corner had an oil stain on his jacket – like he’d been working on a car.”

      “Good girl,” Jack approved. “Was there anything else? Think hard.”

      She frowned, and shrugged. “No, nothing. Sorry.”

      “I remember something,” Adesh said suddenly. “The bloke that grabbed me? He had a tattoo on his wrist.”

      “What kind of tattoo? What did it look like?”

      “It was a circle, with an upside-down ‘V’ in the middle.”

      “Lots of people have tattoos,” Jools scoffed.

      “On the contrary,” Jack said, “this is good. Anything either of you remember – no matter how trivial – might help.” He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “Once we clear up, I’m taking you lot back home.”

      Adesh darted a quick glance at Jools. “We can’t go back! What if they try to grab Jools – or me – again?” he demanded.

      “They won’t come at your father the same way twice. At any rate, you can’t stay here, either of you. You both have school.”

      Jools was silent. St Luke’s Academy, and things like homework and revision, suddenly seemed a million miles away.

      Jack ran hot water into the sink and added a liberal squirt of washing-up liquid, then turned to face Adesh. “You said that when you got to your aunt’s house, she wasn’t there. Any idea where she went?”

      “No.” Desh pushed his chair back and took his plate to the sink as well.

      “Why did you two go there in the first place?”

      “Mum needed fenugreek. She was making daal when my aunt called. She said she had plenty and to send me over to fetch it.”

      “So something happened between the time your mum called and the time you two arrived… something that caused your aunt to leave quite suddenly.” Jack thrust his hands into the warm, soapy water and began the washing up. “No idea what it might have been?”

      “I told you, I don’t know.” Desh scraped a bit of dried egg from his plate into the bin. He glanced at Jack and his dark eyes were suspicious. “Why the questions? Didn’t the police ask my auntie these things already?”

      “They couldn’t.” Jack paused. “She didn’t come back home.”

      “What?” Adesh’s expression darkened. “Why not? What happened? And why didn’t you tell me sooner? Those bastards didn’t grab her, did they?”

      “Adesh,” Jack said gently, his hands gone still in the soapy water, “I’m sorry, but your aunt was shot at some point before you two arrived. She survived – but she’s in hospital, in a serious condition. I’m sorry.”

      “What? Shit!” The plate slid from Adesh’s fingers and crashed onto the floor. He turned on Jack in fury. “I don’t believe you! Who would shoot her? Why? You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re wrong. Wrong!”

      “I wish I was.”

      “I can’t…fuck,” Adesh murmured, his expression anguished as he sank down onto a chair. “Why would anyone hurt my Auntie Deepa?”

      “I’m sorry, Desh,” Jools murmured, and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

      “Does your aunt have any kids?” Jack asked.

      Desh nodded. “A daughter, my cousin. Christa.”

      “Christa? Not a very Indian name, that.”

      “She’s half-Anglo.” Desh met his eyes and added, “Like me.”

      If СКАЧАТЬ