Someone Who Isn't Me by Danuta Kot (romance novel chinese novels .TXT) 📕

on the counter, getting fussed and stroked. At night, she was called Spice, and lived upstairs with Becca, chasing bits of paper, climbing up the curtains – Becca had new red curtains, a present from Kay – and curling up on the bed at night.

What Becca didn’t have was a job. Bryan had sacked her when she hadn’t gone in the day after all the trouble. But then Kay went and had a talk with him, and Becca got a letter saying she was being made redundant instead. The supermarket was letting staff go and Becca was one of them.

She got one week’s pay, which was better than nothing.

The pub had closed down. Carl had been refused bail and was waiting for his case to come to court. His other businesses were being taken apart as the police followed the money trail. It looked as though Andy had been telling most of the truth all along. Carl had been on the fiddle, in a really big way.

Becca didn’t understand it, and she didn’t care.

She tried hard not to think about what had happened down at the estuary. Lewis had recovered, but he wasn’t home. Jade admitted he was out of her control, so he was at a residential school during the week and temporarily in care. Becca didn’t know how that was going, as Jade wouldn’t talk to her. She seemed to think what had happened was partly Becca’s fault. ‘She needs someone to be angry with,’ Kay had said. ‘She’ll come round.’

Becca had a talent for losing friends. She missed Jade.

And now she had some serious thinking to do. Winter was coming, work was scarce and she couldn’t stand all the shit they put you through when you were on benefits. Kay had given her some money to live on, but Becca wasn’t accepting any more. She could support herself.

Job hunting should have been a priority, but something was holding her back. She knew if she went back to a pub, or a café, or a supermarket, she’d end up in the same trap; work, work, work, always broke, no time to think about her life and no time to make changes. She needed that time, but without money, she couldn’t have it.

Once again, she was at the bottom of the heap. It sometimes felt like she was climbing a mountain of sand – hard, hard work that never seemed to get her anywhere.

A great weariness engulfed her. She wanted to slump in her chair, switch on the telly and turn off the world for a while. Instead, she pulled on her trainers and a jacket, put her phone in her bag and set out for a walk. It was late November and a wintry chill was starting in the air, but today was fine and sunny. A walk would do her good.

She decided to head along the front and watch the sea, maybe go into some of the cafés to try and find some work. It was time to get real.

She hadn’t got far when a car drew up beside her. ‘Becca!’

It was Dinah Mason, her fair hair shining in the sun, her red glasses looking jaunty. Becca gave her a side-look. They weren’t friends. ‘Yeah?’

Dinah got out of the car and looked round. ‘Lovely day,’ she said.

Becca shrugged. It was one of those things people said when they didn’t know what to say. ‘It’s OK,’ she agreed, and waited to see what Dinah wanted.

‘There’s something I want to ask you, Becca. Do you mind if I walk with you, and we can talk?’

‘Up to you.’ Becca knew she sounded unwelcoming, but she didn’t know what to make of Dinah.

‘We could get some coffee if you’d rather,’ Dinah said.

Becca would kill for a coffee, but she was broke.

‘My treat,’ Dinah added. For a moment, Becca wanted to say she didn’t need anyone buying coffee for her, then nodded in abrupt agreement. After all the hassle the coppers had given her, they owed her a cup of coffee. Dinah led the way to a table outside one of the cafés. It was sheltered from the breeze, so it was warm enough to sit out. Dinah ordered coffee with doughnuts.

Becca lit a cigarette and stared out across the water, watching the dark waves hit the sea wall, throwing up clouds of spray. She had a sudden image of Alicia, leaping up over the sea wall, carried by the water. She was out there somewhere.

She shook her head to clear it.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Yeah. I’m fine.’ She looked back at the sea, and Dinah Mason answered her unspoken question.

‘We haven’t found her yet. The tide was turning. She could have been carried out to sea. We might never find the body.’

Becca chewed her lip. Alicia Traynor, or Sal Capone, or whatever her name was, appeared in too many of her dreams – soaked, battered, barely human, but alive. She crept over sea walls and crawled in through windows and Becca just wanted it to stop.

‘Have you thought what you’re going to do?’ Dinah said, changing the subject.

‘Yeah. Get a job.’ Becca was glad of any topic that took them away from her thoughts of Alicia.

‘Just a job? What about college? Or training?’

Becca shrugged. ‘What do I live on if I go to college?’

‘You can get loans, you know.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Like she was going to put herself in hock for the rest of her life.

‘There is another way.’ Dinah’s gaze was on the table, where she was drawing patterns in spilled coffee with her teaspoon. ‘You gave us a lot of help, you know. The photos you got were important evidence in the money-laundering case, and if you hadn’t been there, I don’t think that kid would have survived.’

‘What are you saying? That I could be a copper?’ Becca said sharply.

‘No! No, that wasn’t what I meant. It’s – look, if you’ll register as someone who gave us information, they can pay you for what you did.’

Was that what Dinah thought of her?