Page 78 of Every Silent Lie

“I was hanging out of my window smoking.” She comes closer, and I catch a waft of nicotine mixed with the cold, fresh air. “Oh, that looks like a stinger.”

“It’s not so bad.” I cover my cheek and gather my things. “Thanks again.” I head the opposite way, my eyes darting constantly.

“You should call the police!”

And tell them what? That some random person—I’ve no clue who—attacked me on a public street. And I have no clue why either?

I hold a hand up, waving her off, and pick up my pace.

Home. I need to get home.

I don’t hang around for Mr. Percival to find me, letting myself in and bolting the door—something I have never done. An inspection in the mirror tells me I’ll be sporting an impressive, bruised cheek in the morning. “Great,” I breathe, my face bunching as I gently pad at it with a cold press. It just seems to get redder by the minute, probably now I have some blood circulating in my face. I sigh, wedging my palms into the edge of the sink, done with trying to stop it bruising. The whack was too hard—connecting perfectly. I suck in air past my teeth as I feel at it. My poor cheek has been abused, the nick from Mum’s swiping hand only just faded. Were they opportunists? But they didn’t take my bag or mobile. Because they were disturbed?

I make my way back to the kitchen and call Mum’s care home to let them know I won’t be in this evening, then toss my compress in the bin and go to my bed, dropping to the mattress. Dec doesn’t call me, and despite being disappointed, I’m also relieved.

I don’t want to tell him about this evening.

It would just be another silent lie.

December 15th

The snow has melted a bit. We shouldn’t get too caught up in our freedom again, according to the weather reporter. He predicts a couple days of higher temperatures over the weekend before they plummet on Sunday evening, and a second wave of snow hits the UK. It’s a record. There will be more snow this December than in ten years put together. It’s unprecedented. And really fucking inconvenient. The kids, however, are loving the endless ammunition and school closures.

I swallow and take one more peek in the elevator mirror, cringing at my cheek. I underestimated the damage. During a night’s sleep, my cheek has gone from red to raging red. It’s already shining through the bomb-proof concealer I’ve slapped on. “Shit.” I pull out the tube and apply yet another layer, dabbing gently at my stinging cheek. I’ve walked the streets of London for years, at every hour of the day and night. I’ve never felt unsafe. Vulnerable. But there were always people around; it’s standard London.

When it’s not two feet under snow.

I was a fool. I should have considered that. I reach up to my cheek and breathe out my exasperation with myself, thinking Dec is not going to be impressed. Neither will Mr. Percival.

Dangling elves greet me as the doors slide open, and I sigh as I dip beneath them. “Those things are a health and safety hazard,” I mutter as Debbie gets up from her desk and joins me on the walk to my office. “Nice to see the office thriving once again.”

“Liar,” she retorts, handing me a file. I know when her face falls she’s clocked my injury. “Oh my God, Camryn, what happened?”

“Nothing.” I whip the file out of her hand. “What’s this?”

Her lips purse, but she doesn’t press. “Comparisons for the market you asked for.”

“That I asked for?”

“Yes, yesterday. By email.”

I cast my mind back, but for the life of me, I can’t find the moment I emailed Debbie and asked for any comparisons. I do, however, know why I would have asked for them. “Is Thomas here yet?”

“Yes, in his office. And so is Barbara.”

“I’m not in her good books.”

“Did she really pay for her injectable fillers on the company card?”

“So it was fillers?” I hardly want to admit I was wondering what exactly she’d tweaked. “How do you know it was fillers?”

“Crystal heard Thomas on the phone to her. Not a happy bunny. And Anthony is off around the Caribbean on the company too, huh?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” I push my way into my office. “So the office jungle drums are pounding?”

“I’d stay out of Barbara’s way.”

“She doesn’t scare me.”