Page 47 of Every Silent Lie
“Oh no, mine have been this big since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”
“Really?”
“Really. My ma always said I’d grow into them.” He steps back with the help of his walking frame. “I never did. Where are you off to? Your tree? A turkey? Or Christmas shopping?”
“None of the above.”
“Oh, I bet you’re one of those modern types, aren’t you? Everything ordered online. Such a shame for the High Street.”
Tightness forms in my lips without instruction, my compassionate side trying to smile but my damaged side not allowing it. “As you’ve noticed, I need some gloves and a hat,” I say, holding up my bare hands. “It looks like this weather isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”
“I hope it stays for the big day,” he chirps. I hope it doesn’t. It would make it a perfect Christmas, and that would be excruciating. “You need to get yourself some snow boots like mine.”
I peek down at the monstrosities gracing Mr. Percival’s feet on a frown. “Maybe I will.”
“Here, let me get out of your way.” He shuffles to the side.
“You’re not venturing out?”
“With all those flying snowballs? No, thank you. I’ll watch from behind the screen. I’m not as young and fit as you, dear, therefore I can’t dodge them.”
I’m blasted by the cold when I heave the door open, and quickly put myself on the other side, letting it close to save Mr. Percival freezing. “Christ,” I breathe.
He gives me an excited wave. “Be careful out there,” he calls through the glass.
“I will.” I face the white world outside and zip up my coat to my chin, gauging the depth I’m dealing with. A few inches, at least. My boots sink, and the crunches create a beat as I trudge down the path to the street. This is going to be a workout. I stuff my hands in my pockets and lift my chin, looking up.
And then I see it in slow motion.
Sailing directly toward me.
“Fuck,” I murmur, clenching my eyes closed a second before the giant snowball smashes me straight in my face, exploding and sprinkling my entire front with snow. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell, wiping my face with my cuffs, the sound of young boys in hysterics hitting my ears, loud at first, but then fading away. The little fuckers. They’re running away? I frantically scan the street for them, ready to . . . what? Chase them down? Teach them a lesson?
My shoulders drop, and I look over my shoulder. Why am I not surprised to find Mr. Percival doubled over, clenching his belly as he howls his amusement?
“Yes, very funny,” I mumble, brushing off my coat with rough hands.
“Little bleeders, ain’t they?” he yells. “Takes me back!”
I shake my head and scan the street again, seeing the boys disappear down by the canal. This is heaven for them. A limitless supply of missiles, endless bystanders for targets. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But I’m committed now and, well, we don’t want Mr. Percival thinking I’m a wimp.
So shoulders back, I get on my way, vigilant, eyes peeled, watching out for the little beasts as I go. It’s takes double the time to get to where I’m heading, and I’m almost sorry I don’t appreciate the beauty of London under snow.
Almost.
Mostly, I’m just getting to where I need to be.
Heat blasts out from the vent above the shop doors as they slide open, thawing my frozen cheeks. Puddles of defrosted snow scatter the huge mat, and I stamp my boots to knock off the remnants before venturing into the quiet store, focused on my route and shutting my ears off to Slade screaming at me through the speakers.
“Hat,” I say, grabbing a black beanie and a matching pair of thick gloves. “Done.” I head for the checkout and join the small line, only one woman in front of me. Her free arm clutches a bunch of kids’ clothes to her body as she chats on the phone, laughing, engrossed. Therefore she hasn’t noticed one of the girls on the checkouts calling her to be served.
“Excuse me,” I say, but she doesn’t hear me. “Excuse me,” I repeat, louder. Still nothing. So I tap her on the shoulder. “That checkout is free.”
She turns toward me, phone still at her ear, a smile in place, and when her face comes into view, my heart feels like it jumps out of my chest and splatters all over the store floor.
No.
Air leaves my lungs on a sound laced with pain as I step back.
