Not Dead Enough

Readery. It is run by an American. Many English-speaking persons go there – they can exchange books, you know? Swapping them? Is that the right word?’
    ‘Will it be open today?’
    Kullen shook his head. ‘This is Germany. On Sunday, everything is closed. Not like England.’
    ‘I should have picked a better day.’
    ‘Tomorrow I go look for you. Now will you have something to eat?’
    Grace nodded gratefully. Suddenly he had an appetite.
    And then, as he looked yet again around the sea of faces, he caught a glimpse of a woman, blonde hair cropped short, who had been heading over in their direction with a group of people but suddenly turned and started walking very quickly away.
    His heart exploding, Grace was on his feet, barging past a Japanese man taking a photograph, running, weaving through a group unloading their backpacks, locking on to her with his eyes, gaining on her.

59
    Dressed in just a crumpled white T-shirt, Cleo sat in her favourite place, on a rug on the floor, leaning back against the sofa. The Sunday papers were spread all around her and she was cradling a half-drunk mug of coffee that was steadily getting more tepid. Up above her, Fish was busily exploring her rectangular tank, as ever. Swimming slowly for a few moments, as if stalking some invisible prey, then suddenly darting at something, maybe a speck of food, or an imaginary enemy, or lover.
    Despite the room being in the shade, and having all the windows open, the heat was unpleasantly sticky. Sky News was on television, but the sound was down low and she wasn’t really watching, it was just background. On the screen, a pall of black smoke was rising, people were sobbing, jerky images from a handheld camera showed a hysterical woman, dead bodies, stark buildings, the twisted, burning ball of metal that had been a car, a man covered in blood being carried off on a stretcher. Just another Sunday in Iraq.
    Meanwhile, her own Sunday was ebbing away. It was half past twelve, a glorious day, and all she had done was get up and lie here, downstairs, in this shaded room, leafing through section after section of the papers until her eyes were too numb to read any more. And her brain was almost too numb to think. The place looked a tip, she needed to give it a good clean, but she had no enthusiasm, no energy. She stared down at her mobile phone, expecting to see a reply to the text she had sent Roy. Bloody man , she thought. But it was really herself she was cursing.
    Then she picked up the phone and dialled her closest girlfriend, Millie.
    A child answered. A long, drawn-out, faltering five-year-old voice saying, ‘Hello, this is Jessica, who is speaking please?’
    ‘Is your mummy there?’ Cleo asked her goddaughter.
    ‘Mummy’s quite busy at the moment,’ Jessica replied importantly.
    ‘Could you tell her it’s your Auntie Kilo?’ Kilo was what Millie had called her for as far back as she could remember. It had started because Millie was dyslexic.
    ‘Well, the thing is, you see, Auntie Kilo, she is in the kitchen because we have quite a lot of people coming to lunch today.’
    Then a few moments later she heard Millie’s voice. ‘Hey, you! What’s up?’
    Cleo told her about what had happened with Grace.
    The thing she had always liked about Millie was that, however painful the truth might be to hear, Millie never minced words. ‘You’re a bloody idiot, K. What do you expect him to do? What would you do in that situation?’
    ‘He lied to me.’
    ‘All men lie. That’s how they operate. If you want a long-term relationship with a man, you’ve got to understand it’s going to be with a liar. It’s in their nature – it’s genetic, it’s a bloody Darwinian acquired characteristic for survival, OK? They tell you what they want you to hear.’
    ‘Great.’
    ‘Yep, well, it’s true. Women lie too, in different ways. I’ve lied about most of the orgasms Robert ever thinks I’ve had.’
    ‘Doesn’t seem much of a basis to build a relationship on, lies.’
    ‘I’m not saying it’s all lies – I’m saying if you are looking for perfection, K, you’re going to end up alone. The only guys who aren’t ever going to lie to you are the ones lying in the fridges in your mortuary.’
    ‘Shit!’ Cleo said suddenly.
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’s OK. You just reminded me of something I have to do.’
    ‘Listen, I have an invasion coming any minute – Robert’s got a bunch of clients coming to lunch! Can I call you back