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It was her hands that triggered it. The way they were folded over one another as though she was clutching at herself in disbelief or shock. It was strange to see how smooth the skin was. It looked plump and youthful, pumped up with a chemical waxiness that allowed the death to somehow drain from…
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Twenty four attempts. That was the total for the year and it was a record. At least five of them, he knew, could be accounted for by Gregg Sullivan. Five times that fool had gone under, and five times he’d somehow been hauled to the surface. One of the attempts he’d managed to scupper himself,…
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He’d been dead a long while now of course, your dad. But that didn’t stop you thinking about him. Looking at the photo, it was easy to bring him back. Easy to remember him. Crisp cream trousers, with a neat, stylish pleat. Cool white shirt, long sleeved. Braces and belt. Black leather. Brown sandals with…
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He closed his eyes and imagined the sea. The smell was wrong, the dryness, the sootiness of the air, it was all wrong. But if he closed his eyes and just listened, then the sound, the sound was just right. The sound of the sea. He stood still underneath the tower block, eyes firmly shut,…
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There was a flap on the letter box, which would rattle, rat-a-tat-a-tat, as the mail landed on the mat with an empty thud, and Mary would watch for it every morning, waiting for it to arrive. Every morning without fail she did this. Though she couldn’t say why. Not exactly.
