The Magpies: A Psychological Thriller Read online

  He turned back to Brian. One of their big worries about throwing this party was that they might upset the neighbours. To avoid this, they had invited them all. Brian and Linda had accepted, and judging by Brian’s welcome speech, they had won him over with very little effort. Mary – the woman who lived in the first floor flat – had scribbled them a quick note saying she’d love to come but she’d made other plans and would be out all night. The couple downstairs in the garden flat hadn’t replied. Jamie could see the lights on in their front room and the colourful glow of a TV. Maybe they weren’t party people.

  ‘What are the other neighbours like?’ he asked Brian.

  ‘Well, Mary’s lovely. She lives on her own with her cat. Doesn’t seem to get many visitors, but I think that’s because she always goes to them. If you ever want to borrow a cup of sugar, and you can catch her at home, she’s the kind of person who’ll always be happy to help you out.’

  ‘What about the couple in the basement?’ said Kirsty.

  Brian laughed. ‘Oh, you mustn’t call it the basement. I did that once and they got very upset. It’s the garden flat. That’s what I was told. But they’re nice people, very quiet, keep themselves to themselves. Linda and I haven’t had very much to do with them at all.’

  ‘What are their names?’

  ‘Lucy and Chris. The Newtons.’

  Jamie peered down the steps at the illuminated window. ‘We’ll have to introduce ourselves to them. Soon.’

  He noticed Brian studying his beer bottle. It was empty. ‘Do you want another?’

  ‘Hmm. Please. I’ll come in with you, see if I can find Linda.’

  ‘And I want to see what Heather’s up to,’ said Kirsty.

  They went inside. Kirsty found Heather chatting up the vampire. Jamie led Brian over to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. In the living room, people were dancing badly to James Brown.

  ‘So is this all your furniture?’ Brian asked. ‘A fridge and a stereo?’

  ‘No. We’re moving the rest of it in tomorrow. I thought it was best to have the party while the flat was empty. Didn’t want anything to get wrecked. Plus there’s more room for everyone.’

  ‘Very true.’ He paused and sipped his beer. ‘Where did you and Kirsty meet?’

  ‘In hospital. Kirsty’s a nurse.’

  ‘And you were her patient?’

  ‘No. That’s what everyone assumes, and it would be nice to say that our eyes met above a hypodermic needle or that she helped me recover from some terrible illness…’

  ‘Sitting by the bedside, keeping watch, mopping your brow.’

  ‘Or she told me to bend over for my injection and fell madly in love. The truth is rather more mundane. I was installing software on the hospital computer system. I saw her and fancied her immediately, so I found out her name and left a message on the terminal for her: NURSE PHILLIPS. I REQUIRE URGENT MEDICAL ATTENTION. PLEASE CALL ME. Tacky, I admit, but it worked. She phoned me the next day.’

  ‘You’re a very lucky man. She’s very attractive.’

  ‘I know. Actually, it would have been hard for me to meet her as a patient because she works on the children’s ward.’ He smiled. ‘She told the kids about my message and they teased her about it for months afterwards. Going to give Jamie his medicine, nurse Phillips? Cheeky little sods.’

  ‘And you’re in computers?’

  ‘That’s right. I work for a firm that installs and maintains computer systems for organisations like hospitals, schools, local councils, etcetera. It’s not glamorous but it’s alright, you know.’

  They spent the next ten minutes talking about computers and the internet. Brian was about to buy a new PC and Jamie said he’d help him set it up if he wanted. He asked Brian what he did for a living.

  ‘I’m a writer.’

  ‘Really? Anything I might have come across?’

  ‘Probably not – unless the kids in Kirsty’s ward are fans. I write young adult horror. The Scarlet Moon series – have you heard of it?’

  Jamie was about to respond when they heard the wail of a siren outside, drowning out the music for a moment. The siren ceased and a woman dressed as Cleopatra – who was looking out the front window – turned to her friend, Julius Caesar, and said, ‘It’s the fire brigade.’

  Kirsty, Heather and the vampire came into the room, along with Brian’s wife, Linda, and they and everyone else crowded round the front window, looking out as two fire engines pulled up to the kerb. Half-a-dozen fire fighters jumped out and Jamie noticed the looks of puzzlement on their faces. They looked up and down the road. Where was the fire?

  Someone said, ‘Maybe there’s a cat stuck up a tree,’ causing a ripple of laughter.

  Then Cleopatra said, ‘They’re heading this way.’

  Jamie and Kirsty looked at each other, and backed out of the crowd. Paul, who had been out the front, smoking a spliff, hurried into the room and staggered up to Jamie.

  ‘They want to see you,’ he said.

  ‘Me?’

  Jamie made his way outside, followed by Kirsty, Paul, Heather, Brian, Linda and anyone else who could cram into the hallway. A pair of disgruntled-looking firemen stood on the doorstep. Looking around at the mock policemen and fake doctors, Jamie could have believed the firemen were also party-goers: a couple of unfortunates who had turned up in the same outfit.

  ‘Are you Jamie Knight?’ said the older fireman, who was clearly in charge.

  ‘Yes. That’s me.’

  ‘You phoned to report a fire. Where is it?’

  ‘What?’

  The fireman sighed. ‘We don’t have all day, Mr Knight. Is there a fire? Is it out?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about…’

  ‘You phoned 999.’

  ‘I didn’t. I haven’t phoned anyone all evening. I–’

  ‘It’s an offence to make a hoax phone call to the emergency services, Mr Knight. Maybe you thought it would be funny. You’re certainly wearing the right outfit for it.’

  Jamie looked down at his devil’s outfit and felt his mouth go dry. ‘But I didn’t do it.’

  The fireman stared at him. It was a long, hard stare that made Jamie feel like a schoolboy who’d been brought up in front of the headmaster. When the scrutiny was over, the fireman said, ‘Maybe it was one of your guests.’

  Kirsty stepped forward. ‘Nobody here would have done that. Can’t you trace the call?’

  The fireman treated her to the same hard stare. ‘Maybe we will.’ He turned to his colleagues. ‘Come on, we’ve wasted enough time here.’ They marched off down the path.

  The party wasn’t quite the same after that, even though it carried on for a couple more hours. Brian and Linda said goodnight and went up to their flat on the top floor. Heather got off with the vampire (and later complained to Kirsty that he had blood-curdling halitosis). Paul got very drunk and threw up in the toilet. Jamie and Kirsty sat and worried about who had called the fire brigade.

  ‘It’s such a stupid, irresponsible thing to do,’ Kirsty said. ‘Somebody could have died in a real fire while they were here. I can’t believe any of our friends would have done it.’

  ‘It must have been someone at the party, though. One of the gatecrashers.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I don’t know. For a laugh?’

  ‘Some laugh.’

  They were quiet for a moment.

  ‘So who do you think could have done it?’

  ‘God, Jamie, I really don’t know. I’m too drunk to even think about it.’

  Jamie looked at the floor, deep in thought.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ said Kirsty, crawling under the quilt. They hadn’t moved their new double bed in yet: just the mattress. She looked up at the high ceiling. Her eyes rolled up into their sockets and she closed them tightly.

  ‘What about the guests?’

  She buried her head under the pillow. ‘I’ll let you chuck them out.’

  ‘Kirsty…�
��

  But she was already asleep.

  Two

  The city opened up before them. From the top of the hill Jamie could see for miles: clusters of tower blocks standing up like chipped stalagmites; patches of parkland and the curve of the Thames; flyovers and bridges and dirt-streaked trains.

  A song came on the radio that reminded Jamie of his first summer in London, after leaving uni. During those heady days – days when the sun’s heat seemed to last all night – Jamie had thought the possibilities that lay before him were infinite. It was almost too overwhelming. He could do anything, be anyone. He was going to make loads of money and become famous, just as soon as he put that brilliant idea for a website into action. In the meantime, life was good. Too good to worry about actually going out and trying to achieve his admittedly-vague ambitions.

  That summer had ended and Jamie had taken a job as a trainee computer technician with ETN. Systems. It would pay the rent on his little flat until he found out what he really wanted to do. He wanted to start his own business or maybe write a screenplay that would transform the British film industry. Now, five years later, he was still working for ETN, but he had been promoted and was earning okay money. The job was boring sometimes, but hey, things could be a lot worse.

  He was twenty-nine years old and he felt like, at last, he was entering the adult world. He was a property owner. There was rumour of a further promotion at work. He and Kirsty had talked about getting married and starting a family, and he could see that happening in the not-too-distant future, when the time was right. The thought of it made him feel light-headed, but it was a welcome sensation. Kirsty wanted the same. She loved children – why else would she work in the children’s ward of a hospital? Some days she would come home in fits of giggles over something one of the children had done or said; sometimes there would be tears. Jamie would hold her while she recounted whatever story she had to tell. Some of the tales were so terribly sad. Jamie, who had never met the children involved or their families, would get upset too. Sometimes, now, Jamie would find himself looking at Kirsty and thinking to himself: she’ll make a great mum. She thought that when he looked at her all he thought about was sex. But half the time he was actually thinking about getting her pregnant.

  Now, he put his arm out of the open window of Paul’s van and tapped along to the music on the radio. His hangover had gone, blown away by the fresh breeze that blew in through the window. The sky was Bondi-blue. The people they passed wore T-shirts and shorts or little summer dresses. There was something about England in the summer – the way its inhabitants seemed to wake up, cast off their frowns and complaints. He couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. And when he thought about Kirsty, he couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ Paul asked. ‘You’ve got the stupidest grin on your face.’

  ‘Oh, I was just thinking about…stuff.’

  Paul smiled and shook his head. ‘Soppy bloody git.’

  After picking up the furniture from Jamie’s they drove back across the city and parked outside the new flat.

  Paul, who had been Jamie’s best mate since he’d moved to London, opened up the back of the van and began stacking boxes on the pavement while Jamie jogged up to the front door and unlocked it. He wedged a piece of cardboard beneath it to hold it open.

  ‘God, look at all this junk!’ Paul held a battered tennis racquet with broken strings in one hand and a moth-munched giant stuffed rabbit in the other. ‘Why don’t you chuck all this stuff out?’

  Jamie took the rabbit from his friend. ‘This is Kirsty’s.’

  ‘Then what’s it doing in your stuff?’

  He shrugged.

  Paul reached out and tweaked the rabbit’s ear. ‘I bet it’s not really Kirsty’s. I bet you’ve had it since you were four and it’s called something like Mr Bun-Bun, and apart from Kirsty it’s the love of your life.’

  ‘No Paul – you’re the other love of my life.’

  Paul lifted a red plastic crate out of the van. It was full of seven-inch singles. He took out a handful and studied them. ‘Fuck, how old are these? Madness, The Specials. Did you inherit these off your grandad?’

  ‘Those are classics.’

  Paul rolled his eyes. ‘You’re a hoarder, mate. You’ll probably end up like one of those old blokes who can’t bear to throw anything away, living in a flat surrounded by yellow newspapers and empty baked bean tins. Kirsty will have got fed up with you and run off with a bloke who’s into Japanese minimalism. ‘

  ‘Has today suddenly turned into Slag Off Jamie day?’

  ‘I’m only teasing. Come on, we’d better get the rest of this stuff into the flat.’

  Paul went to pick up the box containing the tennis racquet and some folders full of training notes from when Jamie joined ETN, but Jamie stopped him.

  ‘Leave it.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I saw a skip on the way here. When we’ve unloaded the rest of the gear we’ll take this junk there and dump it.’

  Paul raised his eyebrows.

  ‘And before you ask, yes I am sure.’

  They picked up a crate of records each and began the process of transferring the favoured boxes and binbags into the flat. The sun beat down on them and they sweated their T-shirts a darker shade.

  ‘Almost finished,’ Jamie said, a while later. ‘Just the chest of drawers.’

  It was an old chest of drawers that Jamie had bought at an antiques auction. It was made of dark, heavy oak, and Jamie grunted a little as he and Paul lifted it. Paul, who was marginally stronger, went backwards up the path, holding his end up firmly but not being able to see where he was going. Just before Paul reached the front door, Jamie started to say, ‘Look out,’ but it was too late. A woman had come up the concrete steps from the basement flat, and as she reached the path – not really looking where she was going – Paul bumped into her, dropping the chest of drawers and swearing loudly.

  The woman stared at him for a second, her expression grim – and then she smiled. Jamie would never forget that sudden change in expression. He had never seen anything like it – not in real life anyway. It was more suited to a cartoon. She smiled, her face relaxed, her brow uncreased. Jamie stared at her for a second, wondering how she had transformed her features from Gorgon to Angel so quickly, then he remembered how to speak.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, then, rather obviously, ‘We’re moving in.’

  She looked at Jamie then at Paul.

  ‘Not me,’ Paul said.

  ‘No, my girlfriend and me. I’m Jamie. You must be Lucy?’

  She was in her early- to mid-thirties and had blonde hair scraped back and fastened by a grip. Her skin was very pale and smooth; she had no laughter lines around her eyes, even when she smiled like she was smiling now. She was as tall as Jamie – five foot eleven – and broad-shouldered. If Jamie had had to pick one word to describe her it would have been ‘Amazonian’.

  ‘Lucy Newton. I live in the garden flat with my husband, Chris.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘You know?’ For a fraction of a second her beatific expression flickered.

  ‘Brian upstairs told me.’

  ‘Of course.’ The smile returned. ‘Well, this is a very nice collection of flats we have here. I’m sure you and your girlfriend will like it here.’

  ‘Yes, I hope so. Actually, I’m certain we will.’ The sun was in his eyes and he found himself squinting at her. ‘I hope you weren’t disturbed too much by our party last night. We did put an invite through your door.’

  ‘Yes. We would have liked to come but Chris wasn’t feeling too well. He had an early night.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. All the noise…’

  She waved his anxiety away. ‘No, don’t worry. When Chris is asleep nothing can wake him. There could be an earthquake or a herd of dinosaurs thundering down the road and he wouldn’t stir. Shame he wasn’t well though. It sounded like a good party.
Maybe we’ll come to your next one…if you have one.’

  She smiled.

  Paul looked at his watch. ‘We’d better get on, Jamie.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He addressed Lucy: ‘We’ve got to go and pick up Kirsty’s belongings now.’

  Lucy looked at the front window of the flat. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘At work. She’s a nurse.’

  ‘Really? Which hospital?’

  ‘St Thomas’s. In the children’s ward.’

  ‘How lovely. I’m a nurse too. But I work at the other end of the scale. I work in a nursing home. Orchard House.’

  ‘Jamie…’

  He looked at Paul, who was keen to get on. He had a date later in the day – a girl he had met at the party, who had been dressed as Wonderwoman – and he didn’t want to be late.

  ‘I’d better get on myself,’ Lucy said. ‘Shopping, you know.’

  ‘It was nice to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise.’

  She walked off and they watched her go down the road.

  ‘Look at it all,’ said Kirsty, when she arrived home from work. Paul had gone off to meet Wonderwoman, leaving Jamie surrounded by his and Kirsty’s belongings.

  ‘I met the woman downstairs earlier,’ Jamie said now, bringing Kirsty a cup of Earl Grey tea as she changed out of her uniform.

  She ripped open a couple of binbags in her search for the outfit she wanted. ‘Really? What was she like?’

  ‘She seemed nice. She wasn’t at all pissed off with us about the party, which was a relief. I was quite worried about it.’

  ‘The considerate neighbour, that’s you. Did you meet her husband?’

  ‘No. He’s not very well, apparently.’

  Kirsty sipped her tea. She always left the teabag in the cup while she drank it, a habit Jamie couldn’t understand but nevertheless found endearing. He didn’t drink tea himself – he was a coffee man – but he liked the taste of it on Kirsty’s lips. He sat beside her and kissed her now.

  She broke away gently. ‘We’ve got to get on with the unpacking, Jamie.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘What do you want to do about dinner? We’ve got no food in. Let’s get a pizza delivered.’