Say You’re Sorry by Michael Robotham EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Michael Robotham
- Genre: Psychological Fiction, Psychological Thrillers
- Publish Date: February 11, 2014
- Size: 1.3 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
- Say You re Sorry
It’s freezing outside—minus twenty-six degrees in places—extraordinary for
this time of year. I felt like Scott of Antarctica when I walked to work this
morning across Hyde Park—O’Loughlin of the Serpentine, battling the
extremes—although I looked more like a bloated contestant on Dancing on
Ice.
The snow began falling four days ago, big wet flakes that melted, refroze
and were covered again, stupefying traffic and silencing roads. There aren’t
enough snowplows to clear motorways or council trucks to grit the streets.
More grit has been needed, literally and figuratively.
Airports have been shut. Flights grounded. Vehicles abandoned. Tens of
thousands of people are stranded at terminals and motorway service stations,
which look like refugee camps full of the displaced and dispossessed,
huddling beneath thermal blankets in a sea of silver foil.
According to the TV weather reports, a dense block of cold air is sitting
over Greenland and Iceland, blocking the jet stream from the Atlantic. At the
same time winds from the Arctic and Siberia have “turbo-charged” the cold
because of something called an Arctic Oscillation.
Normally, I don’t mind the snow. It can hide a lot of sins. London looks
beautiful under laundered sheets, like a city from a fairy tale or a sound
studio. But today I need the trains to be running on time. Charlie is coming
up to London and we’re going to spend four days together in Oxford. This is
a father–daughter bonding weekend although she would probably call it
something else.
A boy is involved. His name is Jacob.
“Couldn’t you find an Edward?” I asked Charlie. She gave me a look—
the one she learned from her mother.
I don’t know much about Jacob other than his brand of underwear, which
he advertises below his arse crack. He could be very nice. He may have a
vocabulary. I do know that he’s five years older than Charlie, and that they
were caught together in her bedroom with the door closed. Kissing, they said,
although Charlie’s blouse was unbuttoned.
“You have to talk to her,” Julianne told me, “but do it gently. We don’t
want to give her a complex.”
“What sort of complex could we give her?” I asked.
“We could turn her off sex.”
“That sounds like a bonus.”
Julianne didn’t find this funny. She has visions of Charlie succumbing to
low self-esteem, which apparently is the first step on the slippery slope to
eating disorders, rotten teeth, a bad complexion, tumbling grades, drug
addiction and prostitution. I’m exaggerating of course, but at least Julianne
turns to me for advice.
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