Blue Monday by Nicci French

Author:Nicci French [French, Nicci]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780141970257
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2011-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-five

In eight days’ time, it would be the shortest day of the year. The clinic would close until the beginning of the next year. Patients had to put their troubles on hold. And when they returned, Reuben would probably be there to meet them, if she told Paz he was fit to resume his duties. So here she was on a Sunday afternoon, walking towards his house, ostensibly to return some of the folders he’d left in his room, but he wouldn’t be fooled by that for very long. This was Reuben, after all, with his cool, appraising eye and his mocking smile.

Before she could lift her hand to knock, the door flew open and Josef charged through it, in his arms a pile of jagged planks. He swept past her on his way to the overflowing skip that, she now saw, stood on the road. He hurled his burden into it and returned, rubbing his dusty palms together.

‘What are you doing here? It’s Sunday.’

‘Sunday, Monday, who knows the day?’

‘I do. So does Reuben. I hope.’

‘Come in. He is on the kitchen floor.’

Frieda stepped in through the front door, not knowing what to expect after her last visit. She couldn’t restrain a gasp. It was obvious that Josef had been working here for some time. It wasn’t just that the stench of a life abandoned had gone, and in its place was an astringent smell of turpentine and paint, or that bottles, cans and crusted plates had been cleared away and curtains opened. The hall was painted. The kitchen was in the process of being dismantled – cupboards had been ripped out and a new frame to a door into the garden was in place. Outside, on the narrow strip of lawn, the remains of a bonfire smoked. And sure enough, there was Reuben, lying on the floor, halfway under a new porcelain sink.

Frieda was so surprised that for a moment she simply stood and stared at him, with his lovely linen shirt riding up over his stomach and his head quite out of sight.

‘Is that really you in there?’ she said at last.

The feet in their purple socks twitched and the body wriggled forward. Reuben’s face slid out of the sink unit and into view. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ he said.

‘You’ve been caught in the act. DIY? And on a Sunday afternoon. You’ll be washing your car next.’

He sat up, pulled down his shirt. ‘Not really DIY. Not as such. You know me: left to my own devices, I can’t even be bothered to replace a light bulb. I’m just helping Josef out.’

‘I should think so. Getting him to work on a weekend. Are you paying him double?’

‘I’m not paying him at all.’

‘Reuben?’

‘Reuben is my landlord,’ said Josef. ‘He gives me a roof and in return …’

‘He fixes it,’ supplied Reuben, getting to his feet, staggering slightly. Both men laughed, glancing at Frieda to see her reaction. It was a joke they’d obviously rehearsed.

‘You’ve moved

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