I, Spy? (Sophie Green Mysteries, No. 1) (Sophie Green Mystery)

his car, locked the doors and told me he’d be back after he’d locked up my flat. How sweet. And car sex, too.
    I must have dozed off again, because Luke kept shaking me and talking to me, asking me really stupid questions all the time instead of taking my clothes off. Actually, I got past feeling sexy quite quickly and just wanted to go to sleep. This time yesterday I was in Rome. Imagine that, a different time zone, only yesterday.
    “…Which is the first episode Dawn turns up in?” Luke asked, having ascertained that Buffy trivia was my specialist subject.
    “I dunno.” I yawned.
    “Yes, you do. No one knows who she is. It’s when Buffy’s mum asks her to take Dawn out with her…”
    “The Dracula one? Series five.”
    “Yes. And what’s the one after that?”
    “Dunno.”
    “Come on, Soph, help me out here.”
    “Wanna go to sleep.”
    “Which episode?”
    “Where Giles has his mid-life crisis car and the, the magic shop…”
    He nodded and stopped the car. I hadn’t even realised he’d started it.
    “Where are we?”
    “Princess Alexandra Hospital. Casualty, sweetheart. Come on.”
    He half carried me into the horribly bright room, full of pub brawlers and girls who’d walked on broken glass, and somehow got me to the front of the queue, x-rayed and checked over and sewn up. I think there was a cut on my shoulder. They kept me awake, the bastards, and I really wanted to sleep so much. But Luke was there, holding my hand, making me stay awake, stroking my hair and telling me he’d take care of me.
    I wanted to tell him I could take care of myself, but the truth was it felt too nice to have him watching over me. Some feminist I am.
    Then Luke took me back to the car and finally let me sleep. I drifted away, blissful, dreamless.

Chapter Thirteen
     
    When I was seven my brother Chalker and I went around to the neighbours’ house to play with their kids. I walked and Chalker came a minute later, on his bike. It was only around the corner, close enough that our parents let us go alone. We only lived on a cul-de-sac. Safe as anything.
    On the way back, running because—well, I don’t know why I was running. Because I was a kid and it was fun, I think. I haven’t really run properly in years. I was running back and Chalker was right behind me on his bike, and as I cut in front of him to jump onto the pavement and run across the lawn to our house, he clipped me with his bike.
    At least, that’s what he says. All I remember is running up the road. I don’t remember him clipping me, I don’t remember falling, and I don’t remember hitting my head on the kerb. Of course, if you ask Chalker, it was my fault for getting in his way. It’s his word against mine. I don’t remember it at all. I just remember waking in my mum’s arms, inside the house, wondering how I’d got there and why everyone was looking so concerned and why on earth my head hurt so much.
    I remember that look. The expression on my mother’s face. Like she was frightened and relieved and angry, all at the same time. I don’t remember her ever shouting at my brother for it. I don’t remember if blame was ever apportioned. No one told me off for it either. Everyone was so relieved that I didn’t have any serious brain damage (although Chalker still has his doubts) that the incident itself was largely forgotten.
    But I remember the look. Luke had it too, when I opened my eyes in the rubble. At the time I thought I’d never seen someone look so frightened, but now I remember my mother.
    Why was Luke so frightened? Because he thought it was his fault? Because he’d have to train a new partner? Because he cared for me?
    He hardly knew me.
    Maybe it was just normal concern for another human being. Maybe if I’d been a stranger he’d have looked the same.
    Hopefully, he wouldn’t have shagged me, though.
    In restless dreams, I walked alone. I was in London and I was supposed to be meeting someone. I can’t remember who. Only I got lost, I missed my train or something and the person I was with got whisked away, so I got on the next train and went to the wrong place. It was like being a child—I had no idea where I was supposed to be, and I was frightened, really frightened.
    I walked around the streets, streets that looked like where I grew up, where I went to school. But it was dark, and there was no one around, and I had nothing—no money, no phone. I couldn’t even call a cab to take me somewhere, because I