Nicci French - Blue Monday

NICCI FRENCH

MICHAEL JOSEPH

an imprint of

PENGUIN BOOKS

MICHAEL JOSEPH

Published by the Penguin Group

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First published 2011

Copyright Joined-Up Writing, 2011

Map of the River Fleet Maps Illustrated, 2011

The moral right of the author has been asserted

All rights reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book

ISBN: 978-0-14-197025-7

Nicci French is the pseudonym for the writing partnership of journalists Nicci Gerrard and Sean French. The couple are married and live in Suffolk. There are twelve other bestselling novels by Nicci French: The Memory Game, The Safe House, Killing Me Softly, Beneath the Skin, The Red Room, Land of the Living, Secret Smile, Catch Me When I Fall, Losing You, Until Its Over, What To Do When Someone Dies and Complicit, all published by Penguin. Blue Monday is the first thrilling instalment in the Frieda Klein series.

To Edgar, Anna, Hadley and Molly

In this city there were many ghosts. She had to take care. She avoided the cracks between the paving stones, skipping and jumping, her feet in their scuffed lace-up shoes landing in the blank spaces. She was nimble at this hopscotch by now. She had done it every day on the way to school and back ever since she could remember, first holding on to her mothers hand, dragging and jerking her as she leaped from one safe place to the next; then on her own. Dont step on the cracks. Or what? She was probably too old for such a game now, already nine, and in a few weeks time she would be ten, just before the summer holidays began. Still she played it, mostly out of habit but also nervous about what might happen if she stopped.

This bit was tricky the paving was broken up into a jagged mosaic. She got across it, one toe pressing into the little island between the lines. Her plaits swung against her hot cheek, her school bag bumped against her hip, heavy with books and her half-eaten packed lunch. Behind her, she could hear Joannas feet following in her steps. She didnt turn. Her little sister was always trailing after her, always getting in her way. Now she heard her whimpering: Rosie! Rosie, wait for me!

Hurry up, then, she called over her shoulder. There were several people between them now, but she caught a glimpse of Joannas face, hot and red under her dark fringe. She looked anxious. The tip of her tongue was on her lip in concentration. Her foot landed on a crack and she wobbled, hitting another. She always did that. She was a clumsy child who spilled food and stubbed her toes and stepped in dog poo. Hurry! Rosie repeated crossly, weaving her way past people.

It was four oclock in the afternoon and the sky was a flat blue; the light flared on the pavement, hurting her eyes. She rounded the corner towards the shop and was suddenly in the shade where she slowed to a walk, for the danger was over. The paving stones were replaced by Tarmac. She passed the man with the pockmarked face who sat in the doorway with a tin beside him. There werent any laces in his boots. She tried not to look at him. She didnt like the way he smiled without really smiling, like her father sometimes, when he was saying goodbye on a Sunday. Today was Monday: Monday was when she missed him most, waking up to the week and knowing he wasnt there again. Where was Joanna? She waited, watching the other people flow past her a flurry of youths, a woman with a scarf round her head and a large bag, a man with a stick and then her sister emerged from the dazzle of light into the shadows, a skinny figure with an oversized bag, knobbly knees and grubby white ankle socks. Her hair was sticking to her forehead.

Rosie turned again and walked towards the sweetshop, considering what she would buy. Perhaps the Opal Fruits or perhaps Maltesers, though it was so hot they would melt on the way home. Joanna would buy the strawberry laces and her mouth would be pink and smudged. Hayley from her class was already in there and they stood together at the counter, picking out sweets. The Opal Fruits, she decided, but she had to wait to pay until Joanna arrived. She glanced towards the door and for a moment she thought she saw something a blur, a trick of the light, something different, like a shimmer in the hot air. But then it was gone. The doorway was empty. Nobody was there.

She tutted loudly, over a screech of brakes.

I always have to wait for my little sister.

Poor you, said Hayley.

Shes such a cry-baby. Its boring. She said this because it was something she felt she ought to say. You had to look down on your younger siblings, roll your eyes and sneer.

I bet, said Hayley, companionably.

Where is she? With a theatrical sigh, Rosie put down her packet of sweets and went to the entrance to look outside. Cars drove by. A woman wearing a sari walked past, all gold and pink and sweet-smelling, and then three boys from the secondary school up the road, jostling against each other with their sharp elbows.

Joanna! Joanna, where are you?

She heard her voice, high and cross, and thought: I sound like my mum in one of her moods.

Hayley stood beside her, chewing noisily on her bubblegum. Wheres she gone, then? A pink bubble appeared out of her mouth and she sucked it back in again.

She knows shes supposed to stay with me.

Rosie ran to the corner where she had last seen Joanna and stared around, squinting. She called again, though her voice was drowned by a lorry. Maybe she had crossed the road, had seen a friend on the other side. It wasnt likely. She was an obedient little girl. Biddable, their mother called her.

Cant find her? Hayley appeared at her side.

Shes probably gone home without me, said Rosie, aiming at nonchalance, hearing the panic in her tone.

See you, then.

See you.

She tried to walk normally, but it didnt work. Her body wouldnt let her be calm. She broke into a ragged run, her heart bumping in her chest and a nasty taste in her mouth. Stupid idiot, she kept saying. And Ill kill her. When I see her, Ill Her legs felt unsteady. She imagined herself getting hold of Joanna by the bony shoulders and shaking her until her head wobbled.

Home. A blue front door and a hedge that hadnt been cut since her father had left. She stopped, feeling a bit sick, the nauseous sensation she had when she was going to get into trouble for something. She banged the knocker hard because the bell didnt work any more. Waited. Let her be there, let her be there, let her be there. The door opened and her mother appeared, still in her coat from work. Her eyes took in Rosie and then dropped to the space beside her.