The Magpies Read Online Free PDF Page B

hello.’
    ‘Yes, but that’s your mother.’
    ‘Don’t start.’
    ‘Hadn’t you better go and see what the postman left you?’
    Jamie went up the stairs to the first floor. Halfway up the stairs was a frosted window with an air freshener on the sill. The window was open a couple of inches and Jamie peeked through the gap. He could see the Newtons’ garden and the backs of all the houses in the next street. He continued upwards and found himself standing in front of a plain brown door. He knocked and immediately heard footsteps.
    Mary opened the door. She was in her forties, but her soft features and long brown hair made her look younger. She had large, alert eyes, and as soon as she saw Jamie those eyes lit up.
    ‘Hi. You must be the fellow from downstairs? I’ve got a parcel for you. Come in.’
    He stepped into her flat and straight away noticed the strong smell of patchouli oil. Ah, a hippy, he thought. Mary disappeared into the living room, gesturing for him to follow.
    He stood in the doorway, looking in at the room. There was an oil burner on the mantelpiece: the source of the patchouli smell. He felt something brush against his leg. It was a fat snow-white cat. He crouched down and scratched it behind its ears, eliciting a purr.
    ‘Lennon likes you,’ Mary said. ‘That’s nice.’
    She came over and handed him the parcel. It was a package from Amazon. Must be a present.
    ‘Are you a big reader?’
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘That. I assume it books?’
    He studied it. ‘I haven’t ordered any books. How weird. Maybe Kirsty ordered them in my name.’
    ‘A present? How lovely.’ She bent down and scooped up the cat, cradling it like a baby. ‘You must bring your girlfriend up to say hi. I’ve seen you both coming and going but I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself yet.’
    ‘You’re Mary.’
    ‘Ah, you’ve done your homework.’
    ‘Brian upstairs told me.’
    ‘At your party? How did it go? I was sorry to miss it. Brian’s a lovely man, and extremely talented. Have you read any of his books?’
    ‘They’re kids’ books, aren’t they?’
    ‘Yes, but please don’t let that put you off. They’re wonderful. And Linda’s lovely too.’
    He nodded. ‘Yes. I liked them.’
    ‘So what do you do, James?’
    ‘Call me Jamie.’
    ‘Sorry – Jamie.’
    He told her. ‘What about you? What do you do?’
    ‘I’m a herbalist.’
    ‘Really? Wow, that’s really unusual.’ He couldn’t think what else to say.
    ‘It’s not that unusual.’
    ‘No. I suppose I’m just a bit ignorant when it comes to such things. What does it involve?’
    ‘Well, people come to me with their problems – physical, emotional, mental, whatever – and I advise them about different herbs and alternative treatments for their ills. I get a lot of people who’ve got nowhere with their doctors so they try me. People are sceptical at first – I’m a kind of last resort. That’s until they try it. I’ve got books that are hundreds of years old, detailing medicines that have been passed down from the beginnings of history.’ She smiled broadly. ‘I prescribe tinctures and infusions and decoctions. Lotions and potions that can help practically any ailment. For example, basil is great for curing stomach cramps, and sage is good for anxiety or depression.’
    ‘It seems like all the women in this building work in the health industry.’
    ‘You’re right. Even Linda upstairs does. She works in Boots the Chemist.’
    They laughed, then Jamie said, ‘I’d better get back downstairs. Kirsty will wonder where I’ve gone, and we’ve got loads of decorating to get on with. But thanks for taking in our parcel.’
    ‘Any time.’
    She showed him out and he went back down the stairs to his own flat. Kirsty was spreading newspaper out across the floor, and she had pulled the sofa into the centre of the room.
    ‘What was she like?’
    ‘Really nice. She’s a herbalist. She was telling me about all the lotions and