The Breaker by Minette Walters

Author:Minette Walters [Walters, Minette]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK

Bibi Gould’s face fell as she swung light-heartedly out of the hairdressing salon in Lymington where she worked and saw Tony Bridges standing on the pavement, half-turned away from her, watching a young mother hoist a toddler on to her hip. Her relationship, such as it was, with Tony had become more of a trial than a pleasure and for a brief second she thought about retreating through the door again until she realized he had seen her out of the corner of his eye. She forced a sickly smile to her lips. ‘Hi,’ she said with unconvincing jauntiness.

He stared at her with his peculiarly brooding expression, taking note of the skimpy shorts and cropped top that barely covered her tanned arms, legs and midriff. A blood vessel started to throb in his head, and he had trouble keeping the temper out of his voice. ‘Who are you meeting?’

‘No one,’ she said.

‘Then what’s the problem? Why did you look so pissed to see me?’

‘I didn’t.’ She lowered her head to swing her curtain of hair across her eyes in a way he hated. ‘I’m just tired, that’s all . . . I was going home to watch telly.’

He reached out a hand to grip her wrist. ‘Steve’s done a vanishing act. Is he the one you’re planning to meet?’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘Where is he?’

‘How would I know?’ she said, twisting her arm to try to release herself. ‘He’s your friend.’

‘Has he gone to the caravan? Did you say you’d meet him there?’

Angrily, she succeeded in tugging herself free. ‘You’ve got a real problem with him, you know . . . you should talk to someone about it instead of taking it out on me all the time. And for your information, not everyone runs away to hide in Mummy and Daddy’s sodding caravan every time things go wrong. It’s a dump, for Christ’s sake . . . like your house . . . and who wants to fuck in a dump?’ She rubbed her wrist where his fingers had left a Chinese burn on her skin, her immature nineteen-year-old features creasing into a vicious scowl. ‘It’s not Steve’s fault you’re so spaced out most nights you can’t get it up, so don’t keep pretending it is. The trouble with you is you’ve lost it, but you can’t bloody well see it.’

He eyed her with dislike. ‘What about Saturday? It wasn’t me who passed out on Saturday. I’m sick to death of being fucked about, Beebs.’

She was on the point of giving a petulant toss of her head and saying sex with him had become so boring that she might as well be comatose as not when caution persuaded her against it. He had a way of getting his own back that she didn’t much like. ‘Yeah, well, you can’t blame me for that,’ she muttered lamely. ‘You shouldn’t buy dodgy E off your dodgy mates, should you? A girl could die that way.’

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