Don't Stand So Close Read Online Free PDF

items she had asked for: milk, bread, Perrier water, kitchen roll – whatever banalities she needed. She no longer cooked for him. It would take him a few more minutes to drive down Station Road and then up the hill towards Hilltop. A couple of days a month, he finished too late to make it back from London to Buckinghamshire and so he stayed in the Hampstead apartment. On those nights, Stella took an extra sleeping pill.
    Blue’s eyes were closed.
    Stella laid down the knife she was holding. She approached the sofa, moving slowly. The girl’s breathing was even and she seemed to be asleep. Stella hoped the drowsiness wasn’t the result of hypothermia. Again, she felt guilty for leaving her outside in the cold so long. She couldn’t be sure that Blue meant her any harm. Perhaps she was in trouble, in need of help. Stella picked up Blue’s bag from where she had dropped it, next to the sofa. It wasn’t heavy and there wasn’t much inside: a thin leather purse, small and square, with a five-pound note and a few coins. That was it. Nothing that might identify her and no mobile phone. So she couldn’t even have tried phoning the taxi company. And as for her claim about being Max’s daughter – Stella had no idea what to make of it. Basically, the only thing she really knew about the girl was that she was a vegetarian.
    Blue lay still and pale on the sofa. Her lips were no longer a harsh purple but had faded to a delicate pink. Stella reached out and touched the girl’s forehead with her fingertips. Her temperature felt normal, if slightly cold. She tucked the blanket tighter around the girl’s small body. Still, she did not move. A strand of soft, golden hair had fallen across her face and Stella smoothed it away.
    Stella left the living room and crossed the hallway into her study. She could see nothing through the window; the garden was in complete darkness. She flicked a switch and the snow-covered ground was flooded with yellow light. There was no one outside. No one that she could see. She pulled the curtains closed.
    She left the door slightly ajar, so she could see if Sleeping Beauty stirred.
    She tried to reach her husband, but his mobile went straight to voicemail. She left a message, casually asking that he call her back.
    She needed to talk to someone. Now. And it wasn’t as though she had many options. She hesitated. The number was still saved in her phone.
    He answered after three rings. ‘Harris.’
    Stella coughed.
    ‘Hello?’ He sounded rushed and impatient; harsher than she remembered.
    ‘Peter, it’s me.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Stella.’
    ‘Stella?’ He must have deleted her number. Understandably, he was surprised to hear from her.
    ‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ she said. ‘I need some advice. Professional advice.’
    ‘What about?’ His tone was cool and crisp. She felt she was talking to a stranger. But at least, if he thought it unreasonable, her asking for his advice after all this time, he didn’t say so.
    ‘There’s a girl in my house. A stranger. She came to my front door earlier and I let her in. She kept ringing the doorbell and – it’s freezing outside. She’s young. I was worried she’d get hypothermia or something. Anyway she’sinside now, she’s passed out on the sofa, and I’m not sure what to do. I’m alone in house with her.’
    He must think her a fool. He must think that she was looking to get herself hurt.
    ‘Where the hell are you?’ he asked.
    ‘We live just outside London. Max and I. We’re married.’
    ‘Congratulations.’
    She couldn’t see his face, she couldn’t tell what it was he meant.
    ‘It’s lovely out here,’ she said. ‘And it takes less than an hour to get into central London.’ Her words sounded absurd. She dug her fingernails into her palm and stared at her wedding band. ‘I didn’t ever go back to work,’ she said.
    She ran her fingers along the leather top of her desk, a small fifties beauty from Belgium, the legs