Someone Who Isn't Me Danuta Kot (best books to read .TXT) 📖

the contents made a metallic noise as the holdall moved.

‘Becca!’

Her phone almost dropped from her hand. It was Carl, calling from the stairs. ‘Becca? What the fuck are you doing down here?’

He hadn’t seen her. She could hear his feet on the steps, and pushed the door shut quickly, wincing as the click of the latch seemed to fill the cellar. ‘I’m just bringing some stuff up while it’s quiet.’

He was in the room now. ‘What stuff?’

‘Mixers, stuff like that.’

‘We don’t need it. Leave it. Why are you in here anyway?’

All the soft drinks, all the mixers, were in the other room.

‘I might as well bring these crates up,’ she said, frantically trying to think. ‘If it’s busy tomorrow, we’ll need the shelves full.’

‘I said leave it. What are you doing in here?’ he asked again.

What could she say? Think! The pig creep copper! Use him! ‘There was a copper asking questions, so I just, you know. I didn’t want to talk to him. Sorry.’ She shrugged

Carl was looking at her. There was something about his face – a kind of cold anger – that gave her a shiver of dread. It reminded her of her stepfather. He always got that expression when He was angry, before He… She swallowed the lump that had suddenly grown in her throat.

‘What kind of questions?’

‘Just, who was in here the other night, that sort of stuff.’

‘And what did you tell him?’

He was moving closer. Becca sidestepped around him into the other room. She wanted to get out of there. ‘Nothing. I said I’d got to get some stuff and I came down here.’

He was right behind her. ‘I’ll take that key.’

She handed it to him, and he clipped it onto his belt. ‘OK. You did right. You’re a good girl, Becca.’ He was very close now.

She wasn’t going to let him touch her. ‘Right.’ She turned away and ran up the cellar steps and into the pub, feeling his eyes on her all the way. The pub was still quiet. Toby was leaning against the bar looking bored. Someone else was busy pushing buttons on the games machine; it bleeped and clattered and flashed its lights.

She needed a bit of time on her own. She looked at Toby’s fed-up face. ‘Do you want to go out and grab a smoke?’

‘Yeah, if that’s OK. Cheers, Bex.’ He ambled off.

She didn’t like it when people called her Bex. It reminded her of things she wanted to forget.

She looked round. Carl was still in the cellar and the door was closed. She’d hear him before he saw her. She checked the pictures. They didn’t look like they’d be much use, just a couple of scruffy bags on the floor in the corner of the cupboard, but she texted them to Andy anyway.

Maybe it would help. He might have got into trouble. With the kind of people you really don’t want to get on the wrong side of…

He should have said. If this would get him out of it…

A few moments later, her phone pinged. She looked at the screen and her heart jumped.

Great, A x

Andy. It was from Andy. He was OK.

Chapter 9

Becca felt confused as she walked along the road towards her flat. The hardware shop was shut, so she had to go along the gennel. The ground felt soft and squishy underfoot. She shone her torch downwards. The light reflected from dark puddles and wet cobbles that were half hidden with mud and trodden-in garbage.

She felt more down than she had for a long time. She didn’t know if she was worried about Andy or if she was angry with him. The copper, the pig creep, had said Andy was in trouble, but what did coppers mean by that? She’d been worried about him, and at first, the text he’d sent just made her feel relieved; but the more she thought about it… Just, Great, A x

No, Sorry, I couldn’t make it. No, See you tomorrow, no You OK? Just… Great.

Maybe she had been wrong about him all along. Maybe she was just a big loser and he was just a creep.

Telling herself she wasn’t going to think about him, she unhooked the gate and pushed it open. There was a light above the back door that cast a dim glow across the path, leaving the rest of the yard in deep shadow. She let the gate swing closed behind her.

A movement caught her eye.

Rats?

She looked down and got a glimpse of white and ginger fur vanishing into the corner. It wasn’t a rat. It was the kitten. If it was out this late, then it certainly didn’t have a home. She didn’t know much about cats. This one looked very young – too young to survive out here. She crouched down and reached out to touch it, but it vanished under the huge wheelie bin.

She couldn’t leave it. The weather was bad – too wet and cold for a tiny kitten to be out. Years ago, in one of her foster homes, the family had a kitten. There had been something about it – it was so tiny, but it hissed angrily if you came too near and sunk its needle-sharp teeth into you if you touched it. She was only there for a few nights; an emergency placement after being thrown out of her last foster home. Becca hadn’t liked the house and she hadn’t liked the people, but the kitten had been OK.

She crouched down now, peering under the bin. Rain dripped down her neck and the ground felt squishy underfoot. She held out her hand towards the gleaming eyes, all she could see in the dark, but the kitten backed further under the bin and hissed at her. There was no way she was going to be able to get hold of it.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t look after it. Tomorrow, she could buy some cat food, but tonight… She dug in her shopping bag and