Layla was silent for a few moments. ‘You ever been in love with anyone?’ she asked finally.
‘God, yes. Too many to count,’ grinned Precious.
‘Not punters?’
‘Sometimes.’ Precious’s eyes grew distant. Then she turned her head and smiled at Layla. ‘Not often.’
They carried on eating, and shared the Coke. After a while Layla glanced at her watch. ‘Got to get back,’ she sighed, ‘or Etchingham’s going to kill me.’
She stood up, depositing the detritus from their meal into the nearest wastebasket.
‘It’s been nice,’ said Precious. ‘We should do this again.’
‘Yeah. Why not,’ said Layla, feeling a little pang of something, maybe happiness, settle into her gut. Precious had forgiven her, the sun was shining, she was back at work in a world she understood. All was well except… she had killed someone. The glimmer of happiness vanished in a flash.
The shooting filled her dreams, tormenting her nightly. It was there when she woke too. Occasionally, for a blissful moment, something else would distract her, but it was never long before the memory came crashing in on her again. She’d killed Orla Delaney.
As she left Precious and walked towards her office, her minders following, that tiny fragment of happiness fell away. There was danger all around the Carters, and none of them knew where it would come from next – or who was directing it.
She looked ahead, to her office block, to the third-floor window where she worked. It almost looked as though the glass was obscured. She stared, wondering what trick of the light had caused the effect. And then she realized that what she was seeing was smoke behind the glass. There was a fire in her office.
Annie was waiting at Ellie’s place when Layla showed up carrying a small cardboard box containing her Filofax, her pens and a few other bits and pieces.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ demanded Annie, stopping her in the upstairs hallway.
Layla looked blankly at her mother. This she didn’t need. Not now. She could see Ellie and Chris rubber-necking along the hall. She pushed past Annie and went into her room, dumping the box on to the bed.
‘I told you to stay put. Not to go wandering the streets. Not to go in to work. I told you.’ Annie followed Layla into the bedroom and closed the door.
‘Well?’ asked Annie.
‘Well what?’ Layla flung her bag aside and slumped down beside her box of possessions.
Annie let out a sharp breath. ‘Layla. We aren’t playing here. This is serious.’
‘I realize that.’
‘So, no more flouting the rules, OK?’
‘No fear of that.’ Layla looked up at her mother, her eyes suddenly bright, her expression brittle.