The Other Child Read Online Free PDF Page A

talk to him. It would also be a good idea for him to delete the emails she had sent him. The attached files in particular. It had been careless of her to send them via the internet. She had thought she could risk it because it was all over so long ago. Because it was all so far behind her, behind both of them.
    Maybe she had been mistaken about that.
    Perhaps she should also remove the extensive material on her computer. It would not be easy for her, but it was probably better like that. After all, writing it all down had just been a hare-brained idea of hers in the first place. What had she hoped to achieve? Some relief? To clear her conscience? No, it seemed instead as if she had hoped to work something out, for herself and Chad. Perhaps she had hoped to get to know herself better. But it had not helped. She did not understand herself any better than before. Nothing had changed. You could not change your own life by analysing it afterwards, by trying to find a form for it that would relativise events. Mistakes were still mistakes, sins still sins. You had to live with them; you would die with them.
    She stubbed out her cigarette butt in a flowerpot and went into her study, to boot up her computer.
    2
    The last viewer was the worst. He had not stopped complaining once. The parquetry floor was worn, the door handles looked cheap, the windows were not double-glazed, the rooms were awkward shapes and badly planned, the kitchen was not modern, the view of the little park behind the house was charmless.
    â€˜Not exactly a bargain,’ he said angrily before he left, and Leslie had to force herself not to bang the door shut behind him. It would have done her good, but the lock was not in the best of conditions -like so much else in the house, to be frank – and the violent action might have been too much for it.
    â€˜Lousy bastard,’ she said from the depths of her heart. Then she went into the kitchen, lit a cigarette and turned the coffee machine on. An espresso was just what she needed now. She looked out of the window at the rainy day. Of course the park did not look especially appealing in this grey drizzle, but this tree-covered patch in the middle of London was the reason why Stephen and she had fallen in love with the flat ten years ago. Yes, the kitchen was old-fashioned, the floors creaked, many things were a little shabby, but the flat had charm and character, and she asked herself how anyone could not see that. Swanky so-and-so. But they had all complained. The old lady who was the second person to look around had complained the least. Perhaps she would take over the tenancy … Time was short. Leslie was moving at the end of October. If she did not find anyone by then to take over her current tenancy agreement she would have to pay double, and she would not be able to afford that for very long.
    Keep your nerve, she told herself.
    When the phone rang, she was about to ignore it, but then she reconsidered. It could be another viewer. She went to the hall and picked up.
    â€˜Cramer,’ she answered. She found it more and more difficult to say her married name. I should use my old name again, she thought.
    A shy quiet voice on the other end of the line said, ‘Leslie? It’s Gwen here. Gwen from Staintondale!’
    â€˜Gwen from Staintondale!’ said Leslie. She had certainly not expected a call from Gwen, her childhood friend. It was a pleasant surprise. She had not heard from her in ages. It might have been a year since they had seen each other, and at Christmas they had only spoken briefly on the phone, not much more than the usual best wishes for the new year.
    â€˜How are you?’ asked Gwen. ‘Is everything all right? I phoned the hospital first, but they said you had taken holiday leave.’
    â€˜Yes, I have. For three whole weeks. I have to find someone to rent out the flat, and get ready for the move, and … oh yes, and I had to get divorced. Since Monday