Her Secret by Kelly Florentia

Author:Kelly Florentia [Florentia, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books

19

There’s a buzzing noise in my ears. Is it a fly? I’m not sure. It stops. I close my eyes, heavy with sleep. The buzzing starts again, only this time with a familiar tinny jingle – Super Trouper. Shit! It’s my phone. What day is it? Have I overslept? Am I late for work?

I force my eyes open and peer at the alarm clock. A horizontal red blur sways in my vision. My mouth feels like the inside of a Greek ancient vase that’s just been dug out of a ruin – dry and lined with hairline cracks, and probably rancid. I need some water – fast. The phone stops ringing just as I remember crawling into bed at 3.30 a.m. without removing my make-up. Not a good move. Daniel will think he’s climbed into bed with the Bride of Chucky when he wakes up. I gaze at the red digital numerals through narrowed eyes – 6.27 a.m. Fuck. I’ve only had about three hours sleep. The phone starts ringing again, demanding my attention. Who the bloody hell is calling me at this ungodly hour on a Sunday?

As I clumsily reach out for my phone on the bedside table it slips from my hand, hits the floor and stops ringing. Oh, bloody hell, I hope I haven’t broken it. The sudden ruffle of a bird on the window sill makes me jump then merges with the tinny Abba tune coming from my phone on the carpet. Phew, it’s working. I bet the determined caller is mum checking up on me from Cyprus. She’ll never get to grips with the different time zone. She’ll want the post-mortem on last night, no doubt, make sure that I adhered to her strict instructions to stay away from Nick. I sigh in exasperation as I dangle my arm over the mattress rooting around for my phone as if swishing my hand in warm bath water. The moment my fingers curl around it, it stops ringing.

“Daniel?” I turn to him in haste and almost vomit onto my pillow. My stomach feels as if it’s been kneaded by an energetic baker and shaped into plaited bread. I shouldn’t have necked that Guinness shot that Ronan concocted before we left – God knows what was in it. “Daniel,” I croak, “someone’s keeps calling …” I reach out into empty space. He’s gone. On the pillow there’s a yellow post-it. I heave myself up on my elbows, feeling like crap, and peer at his large, neat writing.

Gone for a run then gym. Be back before you even surface! X “Cheeky bloody sod,” I groan out loud as I punch my passcode into my phone. Three missed calls from Connie. Probably wanting to apologise for the way she spoke to me last night. She’s got a habit of doing this. She’ll blame it on the booze, as per, and I’ll tell her to forget it, as per. Six missed calls from Unknown ID – probably a nuisance call, someone trying to sell me a kitchen, or insist that I’ve been involved in a car accident.

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