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13 days till it comes. 8.30 a.m.
Day 1: In short, I got nothing.
Day 2: Flat 11. Blind open. Vincent.
Day 3: Flat 4. Alfred; Flat 7. Liz and Dicky.
9 days till it comes. Evening.
8 days till it comes. Single white male.
7 days till it comes. And here we are.
7 days till it comes. Outside.
6 days till it comes. Morning.
6 days till it comes. Afternoon.
6 days till it comes. Evening.
Part Eight: The Woman on the Fourth
The day it comes. One minute later.
28 September. 12 p.m. The Bad Kids.
28 September. 12.45 p.m. Nathan.
28 September. 1.10 p.m. Sandra.
28 September. 1.40 p.m. Thompson.
28 September. 3 p.m. My saviour.
28 September. Evening. 6.30 p.m.
Part Ten: The Hastings Rarities
29 September. The small hours.
29 September. 7.35 a.m. Sunrise.
I look in her direction. About fifty metres away behind a sheet of glass stands a woman. Looking out at the reservoir. She’s in the building opposite. I’ve spotted him in that building before, but not her. I’ve been watching him. She’s about my height, my build. She could be my reflection. Except she couldn’t because she’s a little darker, has an air about her. European. Her hand rests on the frame of the door, softly. She is lost in thought. No, she is concerned. She scratches her bottom lip with her teeth. She wears lipstick. She has a tousled fringe. She has a light blue dress on, for the summer. I adjust the dial