Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(6)

But here stood one of them, and when the child ventured a hop-and-step closer, her liquid brown eyes grew round and large. “Whatever have you done to your face, Barbara? Have you had a car smash? It looks perfectly dreadful.”

“Thanks, Hadiyyah.”

“Does it hurt? What happened? Where've you been? I've been ever so worried. I even phoned twice. I did that today. See. Your answer machine is blinking. Shall I play it for you? I know how. You taught me, remember?”

Hadiyyah skipped happily across the room and plopped herself onto Barbara's day bed. The answering machine stood on a shelf by the tiny fireplace, and she confidently punched one of its buttons and beamed at Barbara as her own voice was played.

“Hello,” her message said. “This is Khalidah Hadiyyah. Your neighbour. Up in the front of the house. In the ground floor flat.”

“Dad says I'm always supposed to identify myself whenever I ring someone,” Hadiyyah confided. “He says it's only polite.”

“It's a good habit,” Barbara acknowledged. “It reduces confusion on the other end of the line.” She reached for a limp tea towel hanging from a hook. She used it on her hair and the back of her neck.

“It's awfully hot, isn't it?” the message continued chattily. “Where are you? I'm ringing to ask d'you want to go for an ice cream? I've saved up so I have enough for two and Dad says I c'n invite anyone I like so I'm inviting you. Ring me back soon. But don't be afraid. I won't invite anyone else in the meantime. Bye now.” And then a moment later, after the beep and an announcement of the time, another message from the same voice. “Hello. This is Khalidah Hadiyyah. Your neighbour. Up in the front of the house. In the ground floor flat. I still want to go for an ice cream. Do you? Ring me please. If you can, that is. I'll pay. I can pay because I've saved up.”

“Did you know who it was?” Hadiyyah asked. “Did I tell you enough so you knew who it was? I wasn't sure how much I was s'posed to say, but it seemed like enough.”

“It was perfect,” Barbara said. “I especially liked the information about the ground floor flat. It's good to know where I can find your lolly when I need to steal it to buy some fags.”

Hadiyyah giggled. “You wouldn't, Barbara Havers!”

“Never doubt me, kiddo,” Barbara said. She went to the table, where she rooted in her bag for a packet of Players. She lit up and inhaled, wincing at the prick of pain in her lung.

“That's not good for you,” Hadiyyah noted.

“So you've told me before.” Barbara set the cigarette on the edge of an ashtray in which eight of its brothers had already been extinguished. “I've got to shed this get-up, Hadiyyah, if you don't mind. I'm bloody broiling.”

Hadiyyah didn't appear to take the hint. She nodded, saying, “You must be hot. Your face's gone all red,” and she squirmed on the day bed to make herself more comfortable.

“Well, it's all girls, isn't it?” Barbara sighed. She went to the cupboard, and standing in front of it, she yanked her dress over her head, putting her heavily taped chest on display.

“Were you in an accident?” Hadiyyah asked.

“Sort of. Yeah.”

“Did you break something? Is that why you're bandaged?”

“My nose. Three ribs.”

“That must've hurt awfully. Does it hurt still? Shall I help you change your clothes?”

“Thanks. I can cope.” Barbara kicked her pumps into the cupboard and peeled off her tights. In a lump beneath a black plastic mackintosh lay a pair of purple harem trousers with a drawstring waist. The very thing, she decided. She stepped into them and topped the outfit with a crumpled pink T-shirt. Cock Robin Deserved It was printed on the front. Thus garbed, she turned back to the little girl, who was thumbing curiously through a paperback novel she'd found on the table next to the bed. The previous evening, Barbara had reached the part where the eponymous lusty savage had been driven beyond human endurance by the sight of the heroine's firm, young—and conveniently stripped—buttocks as she delicately entered the river for her bath. Barbara didn't think Khalidah Hadiyyah needed to learn what happened next. She crossed the room and removed the book from her hands.

“What's a throbbing member?” Hadiyyah inquired, her brow furrowed.

“Ask your dad,” Barbara said. “No. On second thought, don't.” She couldn't imagine Hadiyyah's solemn father fielding such a question with the same aplomb that she herself could muster. “It's the official drum-beater for a secret society,” Barbara explained. “He's the throbbing member. The other members sing.”

Hadiyyah nodded thoughtfully. “But it said that she touched his—”

“What about that ice cream?” Barbara asked heartily. “Can I accept the invitation straightaway? I could do with strawberry. What about you?”

“That's what I've come to see you about.” Hadiyyah slithered off the bed and earnestly clasped her hands behind her back. “I've got to take back the invitation,” she said, hurrying on to add, “But it's not a forever taking back. It's just for now.”

“Oh.” Barbara wondered why her spirits took a downward slide at the news. Experiencing disappointment hardly made sense, since enjoying ice cream with an eight-year-old child was hardly an event to emblazon upon her social calendar.