Read Dark Corners: A Novel for Free Online

You don’t know how much I wish I hadn’t been in her flat and found the body. I don’t think I could ever set foot in there again.’
    ‘I don’t see why you should have to,’ said Tom.
    ‘Oh no, I don’t have to. I shan’t.’
    She was lying. He could always tell. He could tell by the tone of her voice and the look on her face, a combination of piety and virtue. They sat down to supper, Lizzie picking delicately at the mushroom omelette that was one of her mother’s specialities. Dot wanted to know who owned Stacey’s flat now and Lizzie said she had no idea. She wished she did. It was a lovely flat, luxurious and very spacious.
    ‘That’s an estate agent’s word,’ said Tom.
    ‘I couldn’t think of another one. What would you say?’
    ‘Roomy,’ said Tom.
    Lizzie went into detail about how beautiful the flat was, the carpets, the sleek black and white furniture, the Audubon bird drawings, and this time Tom knew she wasn’t lying. Lizzie’s love of and knowledge of bird artists and birds themselves was her only intellectual interest. He thought – he couldn’t help himself – about the place in Kilburn she lived in and on which he paid half the rent. Nobody would call it beautiful or luxurious, but she was the sole occupant, which was more than you could say for most of her friends, people who shared or had just one room or still lived at home with their parents. He felt hard done by, a state Lizzie’s presence usually left him in. She was telling her mother about the shopping spree in Knightsbridge she had been on that had resulted in the purchase of the green suit among other garments. He thought of the portion of her rent he paid, and then, looking at her face, knew that the Knightsbridge story was also a lie and she had spent nothing.
     
    Stacey’s flat in Pinetree Court was in darkness when Lizzie got back. She had left the heating on low, and it was very pleasant to be lapped in warmth. She turned on the television to a police drama and went into the bedroom, where she took off the green suit and wrapped herself in the dark blue silk dressing gown she found in Stacey’s cupboard. Another cupboard, in the kitchen this time, was well stocked with all kinds of wines and spirits. Lizzie made herself a Tequila Sunrise and settled down in front of the screen with her golden drink.

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    ‘ IS EVERYTHING ALL right between you and Miss Townsend?’ said Dermot, passing Carl outside his bedroom door the next morning.
    Carl thought this a fearful impertinence. ‘Of course it is. Why do you ask?’
    ‘Just being friendly. To tell you the truth, I thought you and she would have put things on a more permanent level by now.’
    ‘What does that mean?’
    Dermot smiled, baring his awful teeth. ‘Well, once it would have meant marriage, wouldn’t it? More like getting engaged these days.’
    Carl thought quickly. It wouldn’t do to make an enemy of Dermot. ‘It takes two to make an engagement,’ he said rather gruffly.
    Shaking his head, Dermot said, ‘I hope I haven’t upset you. I wouldn’t do that for the world. The way Miss Townsend looks at you, anyone could tell she’s crazy about you.’ He hesitated, then, ‘How about a coffee? Your place or mine?’
    ‘I’ll make the coffee,’ said Carl, wishing he had said no. ‘You won’t mind instant?’
    ‘To be perfectly honest with you, I prefer it.’
    When Dermot had finally drunk his coffee and gone back upstairs, Carl decided that now was the time to tell Nicola about Stacey. It was Saturday, and she was spending the weekend with her former flatmates. He tried the landline, but there was no reply. Strangely, he couldn’t bring himself to try her mobile number. Was it because she would almost certainly answer it?
    He needed to talk to Nicola about Stacey, but for some reason, he couldn’t. At least not on the telephone. The last time he had gone to dinner with his mother, her friends Jane Porteus and Desmond Jones had