Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

do you feel about me moving in with you here for a while? I know you don’t know me all that well and there’s not much room, but I’m sure we’d manage.’

Dulcie’s heart melted. ‘That is so sweet of you, but I couldn’t possibly expect that.’

Heath’s face fell. The only way he’d could do this was if he was around her all the time. Try a different approach... ‘Then at least promise I can come and check on you as often as possible. I probably won’t be able to get up from London every day, but...’

‘You can’t move in here, but you could move to Footlights?’ Dulcie interrupted, her eyes sparkling.

‘M-Move to Footlights?’ Great. Move in somewhere where someone had just got murdered.? What a fantastic idea... Not... But then again, it wouldn’t be for long...

‘It’s ready and there’s plenty of room. I’d move back too. I’ve been stuck in this poky flat for far too long.’ Dulcie looked at Heath expectantly.

Heath maintained a surprised expression, but inside his mind was spinning.

‘Oh, I’m being silly. You’ve got your job and life in London. You can’t just up and leave,’ Dulcie said, sensing Heath’s hesitation.

Heath grinned. ‘No, but I can take some time off. So, yes - let’s move to Footlights. I’ll feel so much better knowing I’ll be there to look after you. I would never be able to concentrate back in London knowing you were up here on your own.’

Dulcie clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘That’s all settled then!’ If Robert ever came back then he’d know he’d been replaced. That was what happened to people who treated their own mothers with contempt. Teagan was welcome to him.

Forty Eight

ALTHOUGH ROBERT HAD BARELY SLEPT for two nights, short of accidentally occasionally dropping off in the chair, each renewed cry from Teagan had immediately woken him. He had no idea how long he’d been in this room watching Teagan like she was made of brittle china. It could have been one day or ten. All the hours merged together and felt like a lifetime, yet minutes at the same time.

He'd expected to experience the same amazing rush of something the minute he set eyes on her, but there had been nothing. Absolutely nothing...

Yesterday was the worst. As her body ramped up expelling the poison that had been injected into her, he’d lost count of how many times he’d held her head over the side of the bed while she vomited green bile. He’d also lost count of the number of times he’d dragged her into the en-suite bathroom and supported her on the toilet as her body had purged itself. The whole thing had made him feel sick.

His throat constricted. And there was worse... No one had yet broached it. Not yet. No one actually needed to mention what Teagan’s clothes being removed and the line of bruises visible on the insides of her thighs meant.

He’d always been funny about second-hand goods and this was no different. Everything was ruined and damaged beyond repair.

Despite Nero bringing him countless plates of food. Nothing fancy: sandwiches, bowls of soup – that sort of thing. Robert wasn’t hungry. He knew he should eat something, but he couldn’t. Not eating wouldn’t kill him. The only indication of lack of food was the constant dull throbbing in his temples and behind his eyes. Headache or not, he couldn’t face the prospect of putting anything in his mouth.

Nero had even attempted to make conversation in his gruff way, saying something along the lines of ‘It was over’, but this had only made Robert angrier. It certainly wasn’t over for Teagan and it would never be over for him either. What he’d seen and what he’d done, courtesy of these people, would forever be stuck in his mind. Each tiny piece of killing Saul and seeing Teagan had contributed to closing his brain and stealing his chance of a life.

He was well aware that if he’d just stayed where he was, like Nero instructed, then he wouldn’t have this on his back in addition to everything else. If he’d just ignored the growing yelling and screaming downstairs, instead of creeping back down there. If he hadn’t had that Swiss Army knife in his pocket...

Sweat trickled under Robert’s collar and down his neck. But he had gone down there and he had the knife in his pocket, so he’d used it. He’d used it well. He hadn’t hesitated plunging that blade into Saul Powell’s back.

In his mind he could see the scene as clearly as if it were a cinema screen. He’d seen the devastation that filthy bastard had caused. That bastard who had snatched Teagan and injected her with shit. That bastard who had killed Joe.

A small twinge of guilt fluttered before remembering that Joe had been instrumental in involving Teagan with this in the first place, though Robert hadn’t wanted him to lose his life.

He shook his head in bewilderment. Saul Powell had also butchered that woman, floored Jonah and cut up that other bloke too, as well as offing one of his own henchmen. It had been impossible to avoid missing the mountain of a man crumpled on the floor with a gaping slash across his windpipe. And what he’d been about to do to that older woman...

It wasn’t rocket science to guess where that psycho would have headed afterwards...

Robert swallowed the fast-rising bile. He’d had no choice but to finish it. Besides, he’d wanted to. The curse of his father’s blood ran through his veins and had drawn him into this world with these people, but he didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong anywhere. Less so now than ever before...

Robert’s eyes moved back to Teagan sleeping fitfully, her face drawn but not quite as grey as it had been. Today her delirium and general malaise had improved, but having no experience in this kind of thing, he had no clue how long the process of cold