The Magpies: A Psychological Thriller

  Jamie wondered if this was the reason why Lucy disliked Mary so much, accusing her of being a practitioner of the black arts. Maybe Mary had offered her a smoke on a previous occasion. He smiled. He could imagine Lucy being the type who would freak out at the mere mention of illegal substances.

  ‘I’d better get back to Kirsty,’ he said. ‘She needs nursing.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She lay the unlit joint on the edge of an ashtray. ‘What did you come up here for, by the way?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  She smiled. ‘You haven’t told me the purpose of your visit.’

  ‘Oh. I just wanted to check if Lennon had come back.’ He felt foolish now for suspecting that Lucy had harmed the cat, so he decided not to mention it.

  ‘How sweet of you.’

  As she saw him out, she said, ‘Did Kirsty drink that ginger I gave her?’

  ‘She just drank it ten minutes ago.’

  ‘Good. She’ll feel much better in the morning.’ She spoke with certainty. ‘But if she needs any more, you know where I am.’

  Downstairs, Kirsty was sitting on the sofa, staring into the middle distance, not moving or reacting when Jamie came in.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘Sorry? Oh, listen, I was just reading that book Brian gave you. The Creature In The Cradle.’ She picked up the book and Jamie took it from her.

  ‘What’s it like? Isn’t it a bit childish?’

  ‘Huh. I’ll tell you what – if I’d read that when I was a kid, I would have had to sleep in my mum and dad’s bed for a month. It’s really creepy. But listen to this bit.’ She took the book back and flicked through it. ‘Here. Listen.’ She read aloud: ‘The next morning, Barbara went downstairs to get the milk in. She was tired and crabby where Suzy had cried all night – that’s the baby, the one that’s being terrified by these creatures that run amok in her bedroom every night. Barbara opened the front door and let out a shrill scream. There, lying beside the milk bottles, was a dead rat, one eye open and seemingly staring at her. It was the biggest rat she had ever seen. It was as big as a puppy.’

  Jamie and Kirsty stared at each other.

  ‘That’s bizarre,’ he breathed.

  ‘Spooky, isn’t it?

  ‘A spooky coincidence.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Do kids really enjoy this stuff?’ Kirsty said. ‘I suppose they must do, or they wouldn’t publish it. Hey, are you OK? You’ve got goosepimples all up your arms.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m fine. Maybe I’m catching your cold.’

  ‘I hope not. For your sake.’

  He picked the book up and reread the passage Kirsty had just read aloud. ‘A coincidence,’ he said, ‘but damn spooky.’

  The alarm clock beeped and Jamie stuck out an arm and quelled it. It was his least favourite sound in the universe. He imagined his ancestors must have developed a severe loathing for cockerels. The first thing he would do if he won the Lottery would be to throw away his alarm clock. If he was rich he would never get up early again. That was his idea of heaven – waking up and knowing that if you wanted to you could stay in bed all day. Bliss.

  He got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen where he made a coffee for himself and an Earl Grey for Kirsty. Standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, he had one of those moments where he realised how much he loved the flat. As he opened the curtains and looked out at the waking street, the photograph of him and Kirsty that sat on the mantelpiece was rendered opaque by the light. He picked the photograph up. They were standing in front of the Colosseum in Rome. It had been their first holiday, and an American tourist had taken the picture for them. Kirsty had a tan and a big smile on her face. He thought she looked like a model.

  He was about to carry the drinks into the bedroom when Kirsty came into the room. ‘Oh, the curtains are open.’

  She was naked, and she instinctively covered her breasts. Jamie caught his breath. They had been sleeping together for years; he had seen her naked countless times; he had touched and kissed every inch of her – but still, every time he saw her body he wanted to touch and kiss it again. He put down the mugs and went over to her, putting his arms around her and stroking her naked back, then tracing the chain of freckles that ran along her upper thigh with a fingertip.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

  ‘Much better. I think I’ll be OK to go into work.’

  ‘So the ginger worked.’ He kissed her forehead, then her eyelids, then her lips.

  ‘I think the cold was about to…expire anyway,’ she said between kisses.

  ‘So you’re feeling a lot better?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh good. Because–’

  They sank to the carpet and Jamie kissed her neck, ran his hands over her breasts, her nipples stiffening under his fingers.

  ‘Do you want me to close the curtains?’ he said.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t want you to move. Except…like this.’

  ‘Oh.’

  They made love on the floor, Jamie on top, burning his knees on the carpet but not caring. Kirsty grabbed his buttocks and pulled him in deeper, pushing her pelvis hard against his. The bookcase rattled and shook in time with Jamie’s thrusts. She bit into the muscle where his neck met his shoulder and he shivered with pleasure.

  He pushed himself up on his arms so he could look down at her, at her flushed face, her nipples that stood erect, a bead of sweat running between her breasts. He slowed down, pausing with the head of his cock just inside her, then moved into her slowly, the feeling of intense pleasure spreading from his penis through his entire body.

  ‘Fuck me from behind,’ Kirsty said, and he withdrew, letting her turn over onto all fours, positioning himself behind her and teasing her for a moment before pushing back inside her and making her gasp.

  The full-length mirror was just in front of them and Jamie looked up, watching himself fuck this woman he loved, the whole world outside this act of desire disappearing. Kirsty looked at him over her shoulder with an expression of pure lust and he held her by her hips as she tilted her body so his cock struck the sweet spot inside her. He pushed harder, deeper, and looked into the mirror at Kirsty with her eyes squeezed tight, hardly aware of how noisy they were being and not caring anyway. Right now, in this moment, life was the best it had ever been, would ever be.

  ‘Ah, fucking hell.’ Kirsty shouted as she came, and a moment later, Jamie cried out too. Then they collapsed together in a damp heap, short of breath.

  Kirsty ran a finger down Jamie’s chest to his belly button. ‘I love you,’ she said.

  ‘And I love you.’ He kissed her again. She tasted of ginger. ‘I’ll have to write Mary a thank you note.’

  Kirsty tutted. ‘Like I said, I would have felt better anyway.’

  Jamie opened the front door cautiously, worried that there might be another rat lying there. Thankfully, the hall was free of dead rodents.

  He checked the post (junk mail and bills, as per usual) then went out to his car. Chris was just about to get into his car, and Jamie said, ‘Good morning’ cheerfully. He was aware that he had a big grin on his face. Chris looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I was going to come up and see you later,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Do you remember I told you I was into go-karting? I was going to go down to the track this Sunday and have a go. I wondered if you and Kirsty and your friends fancied coming along.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s a great laugh. You’d really enjoy it. And I think your mate Paul would like it too.’

  ‘OK. I’ll ask him.’

  ‘And his girlfriend.’

  ‘What, Heather? She’s not his girlfriend.’

  ‘Whatever. Ask them all. The track’s near Orpington. In fact, there are a couple of tracks – one for beginners, one for more experienced karters. I guarantee you’ll have a good time.’

  Jamie
nodded. ‘OK, it sounds good. I’ll ring Paul and Heather and let you know tonight.’

  Chris opened his car door. ‘Nice one.’

  Jamie watched him drive off up the road. He was happy – truly happy. And what better way of spending a summer Sunday than going out with a group of friends and doing something you’d never done before? He was sure Paul and Heather would be interested. And Kirsty too.

  He got into his car and wound down the window. As he drove to work he forgot all about rats and hoaxes. He turned up the radio and sang along.

  Seven

  The city exits were clogged with traffic, thousands of people leaving the fume-filled greenhouse that London had become as the summer went on, heading for the countryside and the coast. It took almost an hour to get out of London into the spaces of Kent. Jamie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. Kirsty rummaged through the glove compartment, trying to decide what CD to put on. Paul and Heather were in the back seat. They sat with their legs touching, and they were holding hands, their fingers tightly entwined.

  Jamie spotted this in the rearview mirror when they were stuck in gridlock on the outskirts of the city. He turned around, smiling. Kirsty turned to see what Jamie was staring at.

  ‘Bloody hell! You two! When did this happen?’

  Paul and Heather exchanged a look. ‘We weren’t going to tell you the details,’ Paul said. ‘It’s quite embarrassing.’

  ‘Oh come on. You’ve got to tell us.’ Kirsty turned round as much as her seatbelt would allow. She was thrilled – but also a little disappointed. She’d always hoped that if and when Paul and Heather got together it would because of her matchmaking efforts. Now, it seemed, they had gone and done it without her help.

  ‘I went to that big Waterstones in Oxford Street on Wednesday night.’ Paul squeezed Heather’s hand. ‘I was just browsing, looking around, you know, trying to find a good book…’

  ‘Come off it,’ laughed Jamie.

  ‘Oh, OK. I hold my hands up. I’d read in the Sunday Times that it was a good place to meet women. Intelligent, cultured women. A couple of years ago Tesco was supposed to be the cool place to hang out and meet other single people, but now, apparently, it’s bookshops. So I thought, why not give it a go? What have you got to lose? Besides, I really did need something to read.’

  ‘So there you were, lurking around the shelves,’ prompted Kirsty.

  ‘Yes. Actually, I felt pretty stupid. I didn’t know which section to go to. Was there some sort of code I needed to know? I wandered from cookery to economics to modern fiction to crime. I saw a couple of nice-looking women looking at travel books. I was about to go and talk to one of them – she had a book about China and I was going to ask her something inane about whether she’d ever been there – when her boyfriend appeared. So I went for a coffee, and I thought, I’ll have one more go – one more look around – and then I’ll go home.

  ‘I finished my coffee and went back to the fiction section. I grabbed a book and took up a position on one of the sofas. Then this woman appeared from behind the bookshelves. A vision. It was Heather. It turned out she was there doing exactly the same as me.’

  ‘Heather!’ Kirsty spluttered.

  ‘Yes, and I was having about as much luck as him,’ she said.

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Paul. ‘But your luck was about to change.’

  She smiled, leant forward and kissed his cheek. ‘It certainly was. To cut a long story short, we went home together.’

  ‘And we’re going to hold our wedding at Waterstones,’ said Paul.

  Heather slapped his arm lightly. ‘Fool.’

  ‘For your love.’

  Jamie made a retching sound. ‘Please, don’t. I’ll be sick.’

  Kirsty nodded at them as they smiled at each other. ‘Well, you certainly look happy together. And, Heather, you can tell me all about it later. In detail. Graphic detail.’

  The traffic began to thin out and soon they reached the go-kart track. Chris and Lucy had been driving ahead of them all the way. At one point, shortly after Paul and Kirsty’s revelation, they had almost lost them. But now, here they were, about to reach the venue. Jamie felt the butterflies in his stomach stir. Although he hadn’t admitted as much to any of the others, he felt nervous. He had never been in a go-kart before. He’d played Super Mario Kart on a friend’s Nintendo, but that was as far as it went. Paul had never been karting either, but he was really excited, as he kept telling everyone. But then, Paul had always had a penchant for speedy, adrenalin-generating activities. He had been snowboarding and rock climbing, water-skiing and even bungee-jumping, things that made Jamie – who couldn’t even roller-skate – break out in a cold sweat.

  A parking attendant showed them towards a couple of good spots, then the six of them walked towards the entrance. At the pay-booth, Chris produced his membership card and they paid their entrance fees. The woman behind the counter handed over their crash helmets.

  ‘Where’s yours?’ Jamie said to Lucy.

  ‘I’m not taking part. It doesn’t really appeal to me. To be honest, I find it too frightening. The karts go so fast.’

  Jamie turned his crash helmet over in his hands. He could imagine himself skidding on a patch of oil, crashing into a wall, his go-kart exploding, a fireball consuming him. He imagined himself as one of those horribly-disfigured burn victims, having to undergo reconstructive surgery and being called ‘brave’ by everyone. He could just see it: this would be the point where he cashed his good luck chips in. At times like this he wished he was a woman: it would be much easier to say no; he wouldn’t have this ridiculous masculine front to keep up, whereby if he said he didn’t want to do it, he would be accused of wimping out. He could just imagine Paul ribbing him about it. And Kirsty too. She seemed perfectly relaxed, although a little impatient to get Heather on her own so she could find out the salacious details of her and Paul’s tryst.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he said to Kirsty.

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I can’t wait to get started.’

  He smiled weakly. ‘Me neither.’

  ‘So what are we waiting for?’ said Chris, and he led them outside, Paul and Heather holding hands, Kirsty beside them, Lucy and Jamie following behind.

  They found themselves standing in a large, noisy area, the smell of petrol and burnt rubber smoking in the air around them. The track was directly in front of them: a figure of eight, its shape marked out by hundreds of tyres, stacked up to chest height. The go-karts zipped around this track, the racers gripping the steering wheels tightly, moving at great speed, overtaking and being overtaken. The karts buzzed like wasps trapped in bottles, brakes and tyres squealing intermittently as they took sharp turns around corners. The karts came in all colours, patterned with checks and stripes, and each kart had its own number and name on its side. Jamie noticed that all of the drivers were adults: there were a few children hanging around, but they were spectators only. This was an adult sport. He felt sick.

  An attendant in dark-blue overalls came over and said hello to Chris. ‘Brought some friends with you, I see. Any of you karted before?’

  They all shook their heads.

  ‘No?’ He chuckled. ‘You’re going to love it. It’s tremendous fun. And these karts are top-of-the-range, with very powerful five horsepower engines. We import them from the States.’

  To Jamie’s horror, the man looked at him and said, ‘Hey, mate, you look a bit pasty. Don’t be nervous. You’ll love it.’

  Chris clapped Jamie on the shoulder. ‘He’s right, Jamie. It’s really good fun. I was a bit nervous before my first time, but once I was out there, I was fine.’

  Jamie nodded, but he didn’t feel very reassured.

  ‘Where are our karts?’ said Paul. ‘I can’t wait to get started.’

  The attendant held up his hands. ‘All in good time. First I have to explain a few rules. First of all, no bumping…’

  Jamie tuned out the man’s words and stared at the track. He watched th
e karts, tearing round and round. He felt awful. He kept having visions of a crash, a wrenching of metal and bone. He looked at the sky, hoping storm clouds might suddenly appear in the clear blue sky and make it too dangerous for them to go onto the track. No such luck.

  ‘…the right pedal is your accelerator, the left pedal is your brake. Don’t stamp on the brake too hard or you’ll stop with a real jolt. And I wouldn’t recommend putting your foot down too far on the accelerator either. OK. Are we all set?’

  They followed the man over to the start-point of the track, where half-a-dozen go-karts sat waiting for them.

  ‘Right, take your pick. They’re all the same.’

  Paul chose a bright red kart, Heather picked a dark green and yellow one, Kirsty chose a blue one and Jamie sat down in a black kart marked with silver stripes. Chris remained where he was.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Paul, looking up at Chris. ‘Aren’t you joining us?’

  Chris gestured beyond the track. ‘This is the beginner’s track, so it’s a bit too tame for me. I’m going to head over to the other track. But I’ll meet up with you later.’ He smiled and said, ‘Have fun,’ then walked off, Lucy following him.

  ‘Right,’ said the attendant, clapping his hands. ‘Seatbelts and crash helmets on.. Remember, right for speed, left to brake. If you have any problems, give us a shout. Now, away you go.’

  Paul put his foot on the accelerator, made a thumbs-up gesture and sped away, joining the other karters, belting around the first corner. Kirsty headed off next, a little more cautiously, then Heather. Jamie sat and stared through his visor, sweat rolling down his forehead. The attendant was looking at him, making a sweeping gesture with his hands, encouraging Jamie to put his foot down. He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, and then his body took over. His legs stretched forward, his feet found the pedals, and his right ankle applied pressure to the accelerator.

  He was away.

  He shot over the starting line far too fast, overtaking a blue go-kart on its second or third lap. Panicking – thinking he was going to crash – he took his left foot off the pedal and his go-kart almost stopped. He heard a screech of brakes behind him as a kart nearly crashed into his tail, and the driver of that kart shook her head at him as she went by. Jamie knew he had to get moving, so he gently applied pressure to the pedal. His kart sped up, and once he was moving at a reasonable speed he kept his foot steady. He rounded the first corner, then the second. Paul sped past him, as did Kirsty, who waved. He couldn’t wave back as he wasn’t confident enough to take either hand off the wheel. But then, as he began his second lap, he realised to his surprise that he was enjoying himself.