A Winter Bride Read Online Free PDF

checking they weren’t being followed. She convinced herself that the killer had gone to find his friends. They’d come after her and threaten her. She’d seen such things in the movies. She told the driver to drop them several streets from her house. She said she needed some fresh air. But actually, she didn’t want any followers seeing where she lived. She couldn’t see anyone behind her, but you never knew. These sorts of hoodlums were good at sneaking after people without being spotted.
    On Monday, Nell read the newspaper but could find nothing about a death at the Locarno. Nor was there anything the next day, or the next. The police were probably keeping it quiet as they investigated. Perhaps someone had seen her. Now the police might be looking for a woman in a pink dress and white shoes who could help them with their inquiries. Nell shoved the dress and shoes into a paper bag and, on the way to work one day, dropped them into a litterbin. For weeks she kept looking behind her, fearing that the man was coming after her. At night she peered out of her bedroom window, checking that he wasn’t lurking in the shadows across the road, watching the house. She worried that the police would trace her and turn up at her door. She would deny she’d been at the Locarno.
    She never told anybody about what she’d seen. She shuddered to think of herself caught up in such a sordid affair. In films, she’d seen terrible things happen to witnesses. They were humiliated and harangued in the witness box. She imagined herself sobbing as a bewigged and begowned man pointed at her, ‘Admit it, Miss McClusky. You are a slut and a harlot who only goes to the Locarno to pick up men.’ Her mother, father and Alistair in the public gallery would gasp in shock. Worse, that man, the man , might find her and threaten her. He’d hold a knife to her throat. ‘Squeal and you’re dead.’ Every night, lying in bed, clutching her pillow, she ran these scenarios through her mind and lay staring wide-eyed with fear into the dark, working herself into a panic.
    All that, and Alistair would find out where she’d been. He’d think she’d gone to pick up a boy for the night. Why else would anyone go there? He might drop her. He surely wouldn’t want to be involved with a woman who was caught up in such squalid dealings. All her plans would be lost. All her hard work – the black clothes, the books read, the nights at poetry readings and French films – would have been for nothing. ‘To hell with that,’ she said, and decided never to tell anybody what she’d seen.

Chapter Three
    Late
    The Boheme, a coffee bar, was now the place to be seen on a Thursday night. The walls were adorned with huge multi-coloured murals of people – young people – jiving. The booths were red mock leather. A spiral staircase led to the inner depths, and descending it, one hand on the rail, Nell felt special, like a film star. Tonight she wore her tight black pants and a huge cream turtleneck sweater. Though it was February, and cold, she didn’t wear a coat; it would have spoiled the look. She went to the bar to buy two frothy coffees while Carol slipped into a booth. The jukebox played Del Shannon.
    When Nell joined her, Carol didn’t even give her a chance to gaze round the room, eye the faces in other booths, check the boys, or make sure that none of the girls looked more interesting than she did.
    ‘I’m late,’ Carol said.
    Nell didn’t understand. ‘Late for what?’
    ‘What do you think? I haven’t had a period for two months.’
    Nell leant forward and gasped a dramatic intake of breath. ‘No. Oh, shit, Carol.’
    ‘I know. It’s awful. Every morning I wake up and I feel OK for a minute or two, then I remember and I’m a wreck. I’m shaking.’
    Nell put her hand on Carol’s. ‘Poor thing.’
    ‘Then I’m sick every morning and my tits are sore. I feel like I’m living in a black tunnel. I’m scared. I’ve got constant butterflies