There’s a knock on the door. Two men are on the doorstep, their hands are in the pockets of their black overcoats and then they both pull out ID and hold it up to my face. One is young with an angular jaw; the other is an older man, taller, tough and jaded with an ugly scar running from his temple down the edge of his left cheek like the silver trail left by a slug. ‘Are you Mrs Grace Adams?’ I nod. ‘Would you be good enough to accompany us to the station?’ the tall one says. ‘We have reason to believe you were involved in the death of a young girl back in 1984. Ring any bells, Mrs Adams?’ He has a leering, jeering face that morphs into a demon with horns and burning coal for eyes. His scar breaks open and a slug climbs out. Its antennae are long and feel the air then lunge for my eyes. When I wake my hands are covering my face. I expect to feel slime but I don’t. It’s just me, myself, my own skin and bones. I don’t want to disturb Paul so I slither out of bed and go downstairs, make myself some tea, sit on the sofa with my legs underneath me and wait for my nerves to settle.
What do You think about Tell Me No Secrets (2009)?
