Mindsight by Chris Curran Page A

was so lovely to hear her voice that I played the message three times, picking at the fish and chips straight from the bag. When the phone rang I grabbed it, but there was only silence – another cold call. This time I was glad of the interruption because it stopped me dithering. I called Emily’s number. She burst straight into talk. ‘Oh, Clare, it’s wonderful to hear your voice again.’
    ‘I was just thinking that about yours.’ It was so easy to talk to her, as if the years of silence between us had faded away.
    ‘So when can you come up?’
    ‘I’m not sure when I’m working, but I could probably get away for a couple of days next week or the one after. This is so good of you, Em…’ That wretched lump was choking my voice again.
    Emily sounded tearful too. ‘Don’t say that. I’m not being good. I’ve missed you so much. Oh damn these hormones. I never used to cry, remember?’
    I took a wobbling breath. ‘Of course, you were the hard one. And I can stay in a B&B, you know. You don’t want guests when you must be so tired.’
    Emily coughed and her voice steadied. ‘Rubbish, you’re staying here. But look, we’re not doing very well at this so why don’t we say you’ll let me know as soon as you can? Just give me a few hours’ warning.’
    I didn’t think I would sleep that night, but I must have dozed because I was woken by the phone. The handset by the bed said the number was unavailable, and I’d asked Alice always to leave a message, so I ignored it.
    After that, I seemed to hear every sound. The creak of a door and muffled voices from the main hall had me tensing, wondering if Nic’s ex might cause trouble again. A few minutes later I heard footsteps on the stairs and then the faint strains of jazz from above: Kieran arriving home I guessed. I didn’t mind the jazz; it was soft enough to be soothing, as was the patter of rain on the windows.

    Next time the phone rang it woke me from dreams of fire and flashing light. I couldn’t stop myself from checking the caller, but, of course, there was that word unavailable again. It was a word I was beginning to hate. Afterwards, I lay, eyes wide, ears still hearing those shrill sounds piercing the silence, until, at last, I fell back into fevered dreams.
    Walking along the deserted streets I shivered, whether from cold or tiredness I wasn’t sure. Ragged clouds sped across the sky but there was little rain, just a damp haze with the odd flurry of big drops blown from trees and shop awnings. It was some time before 7 a.m. and I felt as if I’d hardly slept. Needed to wake myself properly before work.
    The beach was empty, even of gulls; the water slapping and sucking on the grey shingle. I closed my mind and set off towards the pier, walking as quickly as I could against the pull and slide of the pebbles. As I concentrated on the effort of walking, I could feel my jangled nerves easing a little but the rain became steadier and the wind increased, the water dripping down my neck and wet tendrils of hair sticking to my face, making me clench my teeth and huddle into my thin mac.
    They were working to rebuild the pier and there were barriers on the beach, so I turned to go back. But the wind and rain hit me with much greater force. I spotted a shabby café with a sign saying it was open for breakfast but hesitated at the door, thinking maybe I should just try to get a bus home.
    ‘Hello, Clare. Didn’t take you for an early riser. Here, let me.’ I turned to see Kieran behind me. He reached over my head and pushed open the door. Although I wanted to turn and run, I could see no option but to walk to the counter with him. He smiled down at me, making me even more conscious of my wet hair and pallid face. ‘You sit down and I’ll get them. What do you want?’

    I ignored my growling stomach. ‘Oh just a coffee, please.’ The ridiculous thought crossed my mind that Nicola had sent him to follow me, but I was grateful when he came back to