The phone connection beeped and she was gone. Edward made a cup of tea and put the news channel on. It was bang on eleven in the morning. The graphics fired. The volume was low – or was that just the missing hearing aid? – and as Stevie turned it up, a newsreader with large earrings and eyebrows like charcoal strokes fixed her gaze on him and talked about Ukraine. Was this the item? He turned on his phone and noted the stories. Russia accused of moving further into Donbas. Then gambling: two biggest British firms report record profits. Cardiff Council refuses to change 20 mph limits. A London drugs gang smashed, suspects arrested. Mugshots of a thin Asian woman on the left, a well-groomed blond man with a needy expression on the right. Then sport, then weather. Edward and Stevie exchanged mystified glances. Edward texted Kim.
Didn’t see it.
She rang straight back. ‘Don’t text, okay?’
‘But—’
‘Don’t text, don’t ring. Come to mine.’
He took his moped. Stevie sat on the back. He had never had a pillion passenger before, and the bike sounded as if it was about to break in two. In the town centre, Stevie realized she would get prosecuted for not having a helmet and – before the bike collapsed – she got off. She said she had to buy some groceries, which to Edward sounded like an excuse.
At Kim’s door, he rang the bell. She opened it with a warm smile. He was struck by her beauty and how much he had missed her, even just for this week. She stood in jeans and a bright white shirt, straightening her back as if she was trying to be as tall as him when she reached up to kiss him.
‘If you’re being held hostage,’ he whispered, ‘whisper the name of your favourite flavour crisps.’
‘Cheese and onion.’
He affected the air of a man suddenly relaxing, mock-wiping his brow. ‘Phew.’
‘Where is Stevie?’
‘In town. I tried to get her here but the bike wouldn’t take it.’
‘Our heroine. Our little crimefighter.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Edward. He made to move through the doorway, but Kim blocked him. She threw her arms around Edward and held her body up against his. She whispered, ‘Don’t speak too loudly. I’m not joking. Discreet please.’ She detached herself and brought him inside.
‘Did you see the news?’ she whispered.
‘Why are we speaking so quietly? I have trouble hearing.’
‘I’ve done something I don’t want anyone to know about. Did you see the news?’
‘Yes I did.’ He reached for his phone. ‘I noted down the items.’ His voice kept adjusting to its normal level; he kept lowering it again. ‘Russia, gambling, speeding, drugs. Did I miss one?’
‘Oh, I’m forgetting. You were under the car.’
Edward peered at Kim. She led him to her bedroom. He felt his heart beat a little quicker as if he was a teenager again. But it was not the double bed they were heading for. They passed it and she opened the French windows. ‘Toss your phone like me.’ She threw hers onto the bed cover. He did the same. ‘I never know what they pick up.’
‘Bloody hell,’ he said, ‘I feel like I’m presenting a radio programme where the headphones don’t work. I can’t understand what you’re doing.’
‘The drugs story. The couple.’ The French windows led onto the tiniest of balconies, and she was leaning as far out as she could, her face close to his.
‘Yes?’
‘You didn’t see their faces. You only saw their feet.’
It was starting to dawn on him. On the bed, her phone started to vibrate.
‘You want to take that?’
‘It’s my mum.’
‘How do you know?’
‘You’ll find out.’
‘So your customers have been arrested?’
