Chapter Seventy-Eight: Di Wade
The heat pressed against her face.
On it. In it. Her cheeks felt like they were burning inside as well as out.
The little boy stood motionless beside her, his scorched pyjama bottoms trailing the pavement. His dark unblinking eyes stared up at the leaping flames erupting from the upper floor, then his attention turned to the bedroom window.
At the man screaming there.
She watched too, unable to drag her gaze away.
The man’s face seemed oddly distorted; like the famous painting she’d seen once: The Scream, wasn’t it? He banged against the windowpane, his mouth opening in a large O shape. The howl coming from the dark hole didn’t sound human. His hands were either side of his dripping face. Was it melting?
He disappeared from view.
The boy’s small hand slipped into hers. She snatched it away, and finally turned from the burning scene to look down at him.
‘What have you done?’
Monday 5 June
‘All right, Miss. Didn’t think I’d bump into you on the outside.’
Connie froze, the voice behind her instantly cooling the blood in her veins, despite the morning’s warmth. Her head dropped involuntarily, her bobbed, black hair falling forwards, creating a curtain on either side of her blanched face. She could pretend she hadn’t heard, carry on walking, but if she ignored him he might follow her. Slowly, she turned to face him.
The man – wiry, thin from heroin addiction – leant against the wall adjacent to the train station entrance, cigarette in mouth, his eyes squinting through a cloud of smoke.
A thin wisp of air expelled from Connie’s lungs and pushed its way through her pursed lips. Her shoulders relaxed a little. It was only Jonesy. She could cope with him.
‘Oh, hello, Jonesy. How are you doing?’ Connie instantly regretted the open question. She gave an exaggerated look at her watch, then smiled, hoping he’d get the message that she was in a rush.
‘Well, you know how it is, Miss. It ain’t easy, they got me on a short leash, like – but it’s better than being in that shithole I s’pose.’
Connie raised her eyebrows. She was inclined to agree with the last part.
‘What you doing with yourself now you’ve left, Miss?’
She hadn’t expected that question. How did he know?
‘Oh, well … I’ve gone for a change in