Surrogate – a psychological thriller Read Online Free PDF

sad.
    Having said goodbye, we sat in the car listening to the rain thrumming on the roof and watched water rivulets chase each other down the glass. "Fuck," I said finally. Mole leaned over and put her hand over mine. I felt my eyes pricking with tears, but I was determined not to cry.
    "It's not your fault," Mole said. "She's a deeply unhappy woman."
    "I know. It just hurts when I see her like that." I blinked and shook my head before starting the engine. It throbbed with its reassuringly throaty growl.
    "You don't make her drink. That was her choice, remember that," Mole said, squeezing my hand. I was so thankful this woman had come into my life. She was my support, my helpmeet. "Now that I've met your mother, when am I going to meet your father?"
    "He says he's not well enough to meet you yet. Honestly, Mole, he wants to see you. It's his damn kidneys. Mum says he's being poisoned to death from the inside. He doesn't want to be bedridden when we go and see him."
    Mole looked disappointed, and we drove back to London mostly in silence.
    The next week sped by quickly. The full extent of our losses from the Dutch Marquez was only now piling up, and it seemed as if the platform would pull our syndicate down with it. Every time I thought we had a handle on how much money the syndicate was going to lose, another liability would bob up. Rumours began circulating that we were insolvent, and the strain was becoming intolerable. Trying to put on a brave face for everybody who worked there, all those people who relied on me for their livelihoods, was agonising. I tried talking to Dad, but the fight had gone out of him. It was down to me now. I can only compare that period to walking a tightrope, and there was no guarantee we were going to reach the other side safely.
~~ O ~~
    I will remember the following Saturday forever.
    We were standing on the King's Road outside the Register Office at Chelsea Town Hall, watching a couple getting married. The bride and groom emerged through an explosion of confetti, and they looked so happy. I turned to Mole and wondered if she was thinking the same thing. Dammit, I loved this woman, so what was stopping us? My father was dying, and my mother probably wasn’t long for this world either. Both Mole’s parents were dead. Strike while the iron's hot, the voice in my head said. In hindsight, I realise I was probably clinging to something, anything, that would give me certainty – but then again, hindsight’s always twenty-twenty, isn’t it?
    Mole said she wanted to go over the road to buy some must-haves for my kitchen, a whisk and an egg timer. She enjoyed cooking. Christmas was looming, and she also wanted to get presents for friends. Men hate shopping, I told her, so why didn't she go inside and I would be waiting when she came out?
    Instead, I went into the town hall, where a cleaner was already sweeping up the confetti. He directed me to a registrar, who appeared to be packing up for the day. "I want to get married here, right now," I told him. The registrar said it wasn't as simple as that – this wasn't the movies, you couldn't just get married off the street. A notice had to be on display for at least one week.
    Mole was waiting outside Heal’s when I crossed the road to meet her. She looked annoyed that I’d kept her waiting.
    "What took you so long?" she said. "You've been ages."
    "Sorry. I was over the road in the town hall. Listen, Mole, I want us to get married. What's stopping us? I love you."
    Mole looked at me incredulously. "You haven't even asked me. This isn't the most romantic proposal. I had hoped you would get down on one knee or something."
    With that, I knelt down and proposed to her right in the middle of the street as Christmas shoppers streamed past us. Of course she said yes – although she later joked that she agreed only because she was so mortified that she wanted me to stand up.
    Currie was in the stands at a football match when I got him on his mobile. I told