‘What?’
‘Let’s go and get some stuff. I know a place, round the corner from my last job. Premium charity haul.’
‘Premium?’
‘Aye, you wouldn’t believe the stuff yuppies get rid of.’
* * *
Kate drives, my hand clutching the grab handle as she practically two wheels around a corner. She takes her eyes from the windscreen, stretching her neck towards the passenger window. I swallow hard.
She turns the wheel to the left. ‘Keep your eye out for a parking spot. Ha!’ A loud parp comes from behind; she sticks a thumb up out of the window, then parallel parks as easy aspulling on a pair of socks. ‘There we are, that was handy!’ She takes in my white knuckles and throws her head back, laughing.
I unlock my fingers.
‘My driving isn’t that bad!’
‘Aye, if you’re a Formula 1 driver.’
‘Huh.’ She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Maybe that’s what I could do instead of travelling when I make my fortune?’ Her face is deadpan. Kate laughs with her whole body, her blonde hair catching the sun as she shakes her head, freckles along her nose scrunching up. ‘Your face!’
‘Glad me bricking it amuses you.’
We walk along the street, past a woman in a fur coat with a small dog on a lead. She looks me up and down, her nose lifting a notch.
I sidestep a man wearing a pinstripe suit locking his BMW. His hair is slicked back by an industrial quantity of gel. Kate gives me a shoulder nudge as we take in the large black brick he’s speaking into.
‘How ace would it be to be able to carry a phone with you?’ Kate says with awe.
‘Folk could get hold of you 24-7. Can’t imagine anything worse.’
‘Might make finding Alice easier though, eh?’ She nudges me with her shoulder.
‘Yeah. Better than relying on my idiot of a brother to take a message.’
‘Has she rung again?’
I’ve not heard anything since the last load of nob’eds rang.
I shake my head and gesture across the road. ‘Right, let’s go and see if we can kit you out a bit, eh? After you,’ I say, opening the door, a small bell ringing out about our heads. The shop is vast, almost like a warehouse, really. Kate sniffs the air. ‘Christ, it’s like a bleedin’ furnace in here.’ She wafts the front ofher shirt, sweat glistening across her collarbone. I pull my eyes away, focusing on the room.
‘How come it doesn’t smell like dust and fags?’
‘Money.’
‘Oh,that’swhat it smells like.’ She grins and casts her eyes around the room. ‘Where should we start?’
I nod towards the back end of the shop, where the furniture is displayed like DFS. We spend some time sitting on the sofas.
Kate bounces up and down. ‘Score out of ten?’
‘Solid seven?’
I push my palm against the arm. ‘Sturdy enough to balance a brew, I reckon.’
We try a few more and she decides on a pale grey one, saying that Danny would hate it, smile beaming. We choose an antique pine-stained coffee table that she says will scrub up nicely, then head towards the appliances.
‘Look at these prices!’ Kate says, holding a white tag swooning at the Russell Hobbs kettle. ‘And it has a separate base! It’s like magic!’ She lifts the kettle and looks at the lack of lead with wide eyes, clutching it to her chest like a baby koala.
