Kind of Cruel Read Online Free PDF

Pale blue horizontal lines, with a pink vertical line running down the left hand side to denote the margin .
    ‘The pages in my notebook aren’t lined.’
    Which ought to be the end of the matter. She’s looking at me as if she knows it isn’t.
    If Ginny didn’t say those words and ask me to repeat them, if I didn’t see them written down in this woman’s notebook . . .
    But I did . I know I did. Just because I was wrong about Ginny doesn’t mean I must be wrong about this.
    ‘Could I have a look?’ I ask. ‘Please? I won’t read anything. I’m just . . .’ Just what? Too stupid and stubborn to take her word for it without checking? Why don’t I care that I’m behaving outrageously? I can’t take this any further; I have no right to. ‘Show me any page, and if it hasn’t got lines on it—’
    ‘It hasn’t.’ She glances at her watch, nods towards the garden. ‘I’d better go in. I’m more than two hours late for my appointment, and sixty-five minutes late for yours. And even if most of that lateness isn’t my fault . . .’ She shrugs. ‘Believe it or not, I’d rather carry on talking to you. And I might show you my notebook one day, maybe even one day soon – but not now.’ She gives me a loaded look as she delivers this peculiar speech. Is she coming on to me? There must be a reason why she isn’t as angry with me as she would have every right to be.
    Maybe even one day soon . Why does she think she’s going to see me again? It makes no sense.
    Before I can ask, she’s walking past me and into Ginny’s back garden. Watching her move convinces me that I couldn’t do anything so ambitious; I stay rooted to the spot. Maybe I’ll wait for her to come out in an hour. Except I can’t. I have to get back for the girls. I need to leave now, or I’ll be late. Still, I don’t move – not until the sound of knocking galvanises me and I realise that in a matter of seconds, Ginny will open the door of her wooden office. I can’t let her see me here, not after the way I yelled at her. If there’s one thing I am absolutely sure of, it’s that Ginny Saxon must never see me again, and vice versa. I’ll post her an apologetic note with a cheque for seventy quid pinned to it, and then find a different hypnotherapist – one closer to home, in Rawndesley, who has never seen me behave like an obnoxious brat. Luke will laugh and call me a coward and he’ll be right. In my defence, I could point out that, as cowards go, surely the paying, apologising kind are the best.
    Who am I kidding? I’m not going to tell Luke how badly I behaved.
    You never do . I push the thought away.
    Inside my now freezing car, I rest my head on the steering wheel and groan. Ginny could have argued with me, but she didn’t. She agreed to waive her fee for the session, since I clearly felt badly let down by her. Maybe I’ll send her a cheque for double the amount I owe. No, that looks desperate; might as well change my will, leave her everything on one condition – that she promises not to spend the rest of her life thinking I’m the biggest arsehole she’s ever met.
    It’s nine minutes past four. If I set off now, I’ll make it. If I stay here another ten minutes, then drive dangerously fast all the way back to Rawndesley, I’ll make it. I won’t even need ten minutes, because Red Lipstick Woman will have locked her car, and I’ll be back in mine and heading home thirty seconds from now.
    I don’t know what it means . She said it as if she was more frustrated than I was by her inability to understand the words in her notebook; she didn’t seem to care if I knew it. Then why deny having written them?
    Without allowing myself to think about what I’m doing, I get out of my car, cross the road and walk up Ginny’s drive, exactly as I did an hour ago. I’m glad it’s dark, glad Culver Valley County Council is more scared of the anti-light-pollution lobby than of their opponents, who petition endlessly for a solid