Blood Loss by Kerena Swan (good beach reads .txt) 📕

Lucy opens the fridge and puts the food on the shelf. ‘Oh, well, they’re here if she wants them. If not, you can eat them. They’re vegan.’

I’m surprised. She must have gone to some trouble to buy vegan. This small act of kindness blows away all my doubts about her like a cleansing, healing breeze. Of course she doesn’t want to harm me. She’s my sister when all’s said and done.

‘So why aren’t you at work? I thought you cared for the twins after school.’ She reaches for the large china vase and fills it with water then arranges the cheerful sunflowers in it before placing it in the middle of the table.

I don’t want to tell Lucy the real reason. She might think there’s some truth in it.

‘Mrs. Watson doesn’t need me for a couple of weeks. She’s got her mum staying.’

‘Is she still paying you?’

‘Er… no. Why would she?’

‘Because you have rights as an employee – such as annual leave and notice. What does your contract say?’

‘I…’

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t got a contract?’ Lucy looks and sounds incredulous, and I wince, waiting for the inevitable verbal lashing.

‘My God, Jenna. How can you let yourself be used like that? Employed when it suits them, then dropped when it suits them. You need to go back there and insist that you need paying for the two weeks. You’re entitled to paid holiday.’

I look away from Lucy’s direct stare, feeling humiliated. She’s always been successful in her studies and career. She can’t understand why I’m such an educational failure and only have mundane, dead-end jobs. But surely valuing and helping other people, and being kind to animals, is far more important? Money, property and pensions only make the world a better place for the individual. I shrug and turn away from her, internally bracing myself for her lecture.

Thankfully, Grace pokes her head around the door to tell us that Mum has woken up.

‘I’ll go and muck out Merlin’s stable while you’re here to sit with Mum,’ I say to Lucy. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour.’

‘I’m leaving in a minute,’ Grace says, taking her cardigan from the back of the chair. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

I thank her and run upstairs to put some old clothes on.

When I return from the stable Lucy is pacing up and down the kitchen. ‘Mum’s getting so thin. I couldn’t persuade her to eat anything.’ Lucy bites her lip and turns her head away then gathers up her bags. ‘I need to go now. I can’t get here tomorrow but I’ll be here on Thursday.’

After she’s left I make Mum another drink and continue the game of Scrabble. She’s brighter after her nap and Lucy’s visit, and reassuringly she beats me. I leave her to watch an old film while I prepare my lunch. I slice a thick wedge of soda bread then put it in the toaster to warm. I open the fridge for some vegan cheese then notice the pâté. I read the ingredients list to be sure it’s vegan then pull off the cardboard sleeve. It looks good to me though Mum obviously didn’t think so as there’s only a tiny amount missing from where Lucy must have taken a sample in an effort to tempt her.

I spread a thick layer over my toast and wash it down with hot tea. It’s surprisingly tasty. I’m thinking about other activities I can do with Mum when my lips begin to tingle. At first I think it’s from the hot tea but now my throat’s tightening and I’m struggling to breathe.

Oh, God, I know this feeling. It’s the beginning of anaphylactic shock. But why? The pate doesn’t contain nuts and I’ve eaten the bread on other occasions with no ill effects. I pull at my T-shirt to loosen it from around my neck and tip my head back to open my airways, but I urgently need my EpiPen. Where’s my EpiPen? It should be here on the table but I can’t see it anywhere.

A thought slithers through my panic like a snake. Is Lucy trying to poison me now?

Chapter 50

The Previous March | DI Paton

‘You’ve done well, Dave – tracking your killer all the way to Milton Keynes with very little evidence. I’m impressed.’ Detective Superintendent Metcalfe put down his pen and smiled.

Paton grinned back and sat taller in his chair. He’d leapt around his hotel room like a pogo dancer at a rave when Mitchell had told him the result of his widened search on the ANPR data. This time they’d checked a four-week period after the murder and the number plate had been recorded there. There had been a gap of a week so the woman must have temporarily disguised her number plates. She was smart, but they were smarter.

‘We were rather pleased when we picked up Trina’s silver Fiesta again.’

‘And is the car still driving around Milton Keynes?’ Metcalfe asked.

Paton’s positivity waned. ‘Not for the past three weeks so she may have changed the plates again or got a new car. We now know that Trina Hodges is a fictitious name. We checked out the driving licence and it’s fake.’

‘This Trina must have dodgy connections if she’s able to obtain fake identity documents and a dead man’s number plate,’ Metcalfe observed. ‘Maybe we’re not just dealing with one individual here.’

‘I’m still of the opinion, sir, that this was a lover’s rejection that escalated.’

‘What about the other silver Fiesta’s owner, Britney Smith? Do you think we should drop that line of investigation?’

Paton was pleased that DSI Metcalfe was asking for his advice. He was getting himself noticed in a positive way with this investigation and Metcalfe clearly valued Paton’s opinion. If Paton found this woman, it would be the greatest achievement of his career to date and Tommy would be delighted.

‘Apart from driving a silver Fiesta in the wrong place at the wrong time I don’t think