Waking Broken by Huw Thomas Page A

with Tony?’
    ‘No. Brendan span Tony some cock-and-bull about being onto a story about the company you work for. He said he needed to find out if it was true and then he’d pass the details on to the newsroom. But it was only an excuse to get your number.’
    Rebecca gave a slight smile. ‘Well, that’s some relief. The way Brendan called earlier, I thought Tony had got mixed up with something dodgy and was in real trouble.’
    She shook her head. ‘So, what is this about?’
    ‘Well,’ said Harper, ‘I think the best way to explain is if I tell you a bit of a story. Just listen for now, save the questions for later, okay?’
    Rebecca nodded and took a sip of her drink.
    Harper watched her face. It was so familiar it was hard to think of it as a stranger’s face. He knew every line: the way her eyebrows were slightly out of kilter, the tiny dimples that appeared on her left cheek when she tried to stifle a smile, the two darker hairs on her upper lip so fine they were almost impossible to spot. She was wearing earrings he did not recognise, however, and her hair was cut much shorter than he liked. It was the same style as when they first met, a sleek, asymmetric cut with a slanted fringe. Over the past year, he had persuaded her to let it grow. The last time he saw her before the accident, lying in bed on Monday morning, it was several inches below her shoulders.
    Harper smiled apologetically as she frowned and he realised he had been sitting just staring at her.
    ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Well, to begin with, my name is Daniel. It’s Daniel Harper. Most people call me Harper. But to my friends, people like you and Brendan, I’m Danny. I grew up in Cornwall, trained as a journalist, worked on a few local weeklies and moved here nearly six years ago when I got a job on the paper. Now: so far, so good. I told Brendan this story and he had no problem with it up to here either.’
    Rebecca shrugged but said nothing.
    ‘Three years ago,’ Harper continued, ‘there were a few changes at the paper. A couple of people left, there was a bit of a reshuffle and the job of deputy news editor came up. I went for it, so did your cousin Tony and one of the other senior journalists, Stephen Glover.’
    He paused. ‘I got that job.’
    Harper held up his hand as Rebecca started to speak. ‘Save the questions, okay. Imagine I’m telling a story.’
    She nodded slowly.
    ‘Right,’ said Harper. ‘Over the next three years my life’s gone really well. Since then I’ve been promoted to news editor and, about six months ago, I was made assistant editor.’
    Rebecca’s eyebrows rose higher but she kept her silence.
    ‘But more importantly, I met you.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I met you,’ said Harper. ‘About six months after I got the deputy news editor’s job we had the annual Christmas do. Tony brought you along and introduced us. We got on well and I asked for your number. A couple of days later, I took you out to this great little fish restaurant down on Lower Quay. You were a bit reluctant to get involved at first because you were still getting over this guy called Fergus you’d been with since university.’
    Rebecca looked confused. ‘How do you know about, Fergus?’
    Harper smiled. ‘But I kept on taking you to good restaurants and eventually you agreed to let me take you away for a weekend. I told you we were going to the Lake District but I flew you to Paris instead. We stayed in a small hotel with this incredible antique lift and a brass four-poster bed. While we were there, you confessed you’d lost your virginity in a four-poster bed with this older guy who used to work with your dad.’
    Rebecca’s face went white. ‘But how…? You can’t know that. You can’t. I never even told Fergus about that.’
    Harper kept his eyes on Rebecca’s.
    ‘I must have told Tony,’ she said but her voice lacked certainty. She scowled. ‘Look, I’ve no idea what you’re trying to do but this is not funny.’
    Harper