Things Don't Break on Their Own by Sarah Easter Collins

Author:Sarah Easter Collins [Easter Collins, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crown
Published: 2024-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

14

Body Parts

Willa

I first met Jamie at a bar in St. Paul’s. At that time I was working a three-month contract making props for a low-budget horror movie. My employer was a small, furious Scot in his fifties called Fen Roberts. He had a shock of sandy hair, strung-out eyes, and periodically panicked about our rate of production. After my first couple of weeks I came to suspect that Fen had undercut any other bidders for the job by some considerable margin. Most of the other temps were students from Eastern Europe who spent the day laughing, gesturing with their hands and talking at speed in a language I didn’t understand. They also took regular breaks for coffee and cigarettes, which made Fen apoplectic with rage, something that amused the students to no end. My job was to dob fake blood on various body parts. They needed a lot of dismembered limbs.

I’d arranged to meet Robyn for a rare, snatched drink after work. I saw so little of her in those days, less and less it seemed. Sophie was already a toddler by then and Cat was expecting the twins, so she was always keen to get home.

I arrived before her, of course. I found myself a tiny table tucked away in a corner and was half reading my book, half watching a group of three women, when I realized a man was smiling at me. A slow smile of approval, full of promise. He was standing at the bar on his own. I checked around to see if the smile was meant for someone else, then back at my book. The next time I looked up, he smiled at me again. He looked a bit older than me, with a large leonine head, a broad nose, tawny hair that curled over the back of his collar, a strong jaw and clear blue eyes. Handsome too, ridiculously so. A lock of hair fell across his face and he brushed it out of his eyes. I reckon he’s an actor, I thought, an actor who specializes in period dramas, a natural at playing a crowd, he’s got that confidence about him, the smile of a man who knows he’s the best-looking male in the room. Then Robyn arrived. Behind her back, as she bent over and kissed my cheek, he grinned at me and shrugged his shoulders apologetically, Just missed my chance.

The next night I went back. I told myself I didn’t have any particular reason to hurry home, which was true enough. He was there again, standing at the bar, but if he clocked me coming in, he didn’t let me know. I found my seat in the corner and took out my book, Great Expectations. I hooked a stray piece of hair over my ear and propped my chin on my hand. Then I read.

The next thing I knew he was standing in front of me.

“If this was a blind date,” he said, “I’d be looking for the girl who

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