Goodwill Hunters

Both were tensed for the sound of the bell, but quiet had fallen since the last ‘hi’ from outside. They began to relax, though they stayed in the hall, away from the windows and in the dark. Then the man spoke.

‘We’ve got a problem,’ he said.

‘Don’t say it.’ She clutched his elbow through the grimy coat.

‘I have to go out.’

‘No.’

‘I have to. James is waiting for me, in The Bar.’

‘Call him. Tell him you’re sick. If you go outside you won’t get away from them. They’re probably waiting by the door right now.’

‘I have to go. It’s important. It’s the project. We can’t just drop it.’

‘I’m coming with you.’

‘No way. Stay here until they move on to another street, then meet me there. If they try anything I’ll just put my head down and run.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Then maybe I should just talk to them. See what they have to say.’

‘You’re talking crazy. You can’t do that.’

‘I can do whatever I want.’ He straightened up, though his full height made him visible from the window, rolled another cigarette, tucked it behind his ear and kissed her. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘there’s no way they can talk me round. I’m more than a match for them.’

He had his hand on the door when the bell rang, once tentatively, then twice insistently, and then they heard a voice calling from outside:

‘Hello? Hello, hi?’

Sian Cummins is about to get her life back after writing her first novel.

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