The Other Woman Read Online Free PDF Page A

just think about other people for a change. The fact that his words echoed uncomfortably closely those of her mother when she was in her teens, and Michael when their marriage finally hit the rocks, did nothing to make it easier to take.
    So she would let him go on about people using commas instead of semicolons, because that was only an indirect criticism of her, and not one which gave her any sleepless nights.
    â€˜Are you listening to a single word I’m saying?’ he demanded.
    â€˜No,’ she said, with a grin, spooning fried rice on to her plate.
    Fog hovered still and thick, flooding the football pitch like a phantom sea, blanketing the public playing fields beyond. Moisture beaded the mud-guard of the bike and the PVC of his gloves as Colin Drummond pushed up the visor and waited. Slowly, he drew off one glove, and without taking his eyes away from the car, he undid the strap and removed his helmet, running his bare hand through black, well-cut hair, his youthful, handsome face set and determined. He laid the helmet on the seat behind him, and slipped his hand into the glove again.
    He had seen the fight, seen her walk away. He had watched her, and had gone to the bike and started it up, just as her back view became indistinguishable from the rest of the blotted-out landscape. His foot touching the ground now and then to keep the bike balanced, he had followed her as she walked down the hill. She may or may not have been aware of his presence; she didn’t turn round.
    He had been undecided as to his next move. In the event, it had been decided for him, as a car had come past, its outline fuzzily visible as it pulled away. But then it had seemed to stop, the rear lights which he had expected to vanish within a hundred yards inexplicably remaining as two red splashes in the mist. Except that it hadn’t stopped; it had merely been moving at exactly the same pace as he had. Walking pace. Her pace.
    He had frowned, increasing his speed slightly, to see what was going on. That was when he had seen the brake lights glare, then the door had opened and she had got in. The car had moved off, keeping to ten miles an hour as it had groped its way through the almost impenetrable fog, completing a tricky turn in the road to head back the way it had come. He knew its speed precisely, because he had followed, far enough back to be unnoticed.
    Followed them right back to the football ground, deserted and in darkness. He had stopped, headlamp out, just at the entrance, as they drove to the farthest corner. He had wheeled the bike up on to the verge, behind the high hedge, as the car’s engine was cut, and the headlights extinguished. They had been there for almost ten minutes now; away, they thought, from prying eyes.
    But hidden by the hedge, silent, and all but invisible in his black clothes, Colin watched them.

Chapter Two
    Lionel sat staring at the television screen, not seeing. He felt sick, and afraid, and he had to work out what he was going to do.
    He had never really known until now how important his life was to him. If anything, it had seemed pointless; a job he didn’t much care for, a marriage that had evolved into a near master-servant relationship which was not of his making, whatever Melissa Whitworth thought. No children. No social life to speak of, unless you counted going to the pub.
    Fridays used to be drinking after hours in Sid’s back room and watching adult videos. They all knew that it was about as adult as comparing genitals behind the toilets at the mixed infants, but it passed the time, and they were good for a laugh. Frances had found out, of course, somehow. One of the wives had told her; one of the more broadminded wives.
    They were only rented videos, for God’s sake … they were just a bit of fun. Frances had never mentioned it, of course. She didn’t have to. He had seen the look she had given him the following Friday night when he had got ready to go out. The