River of Souls Read Online Free

‘The MIT took over. I met her dad though, the Right Honourable Timothy Shelley. He made a complaint about slow response times. The bloke’s everything you’d expect from the English ruling classes: smarmy, vicious and arrogant.’ Burns’s Scottish accent grew stronger as the chip on his shoulder widened. It irritated me that I could have sat there all day, listening to him rant. I rose to my feet quickly and belted my coat.
    ‘Thanks for your time.’
    ‘Call me again if I can help.’ His eyes lingered on my face and it looked like he was planning another apology, so I ducked out of the door before he got the chance.
    My throat burned as I walked towards Spice Quay, my heart beating uncomfortably fast. By Tower Bridge I had to stop and counsel myself. I perched on a bench and watched clippers cutting through the drizzle towards Bermondsey. Burns had been at the front of my mind for months, but unrequited love was a slippery slope. It was meant to help twelve year olds test their emotional range, not smart thirty-three-year-old psychologists. My vulnerability made me feel like kicking the nearest lamppost. Maybe I should have yelled at him in the café, but it wouldn’t have changed anything. Burns’s decision to do the right thing and return to his family only made me like him more. The best option was to wipe him from my mind. I allowed myself one more minute of abject self-pity, then continued my journey along the river path.
     
    Jude Shelley was being treated at the city’s most expensive private hospital. The Royal London glittered with luxury. Drinks machines in the echoing foyer dispensed free mineral water and cappuccino, every surface polished to a high shine. The building faced north across the river to the Custom House and Old Billingsgate. It was ironic that the girl’s room must have a direct view of Lower Thames Street, where she’d been attacked. In her shoes I’d have begged for an immediate transfer.
    A middle-aged nurse led me up to the first floor, examining me from the corner of her eye. ‘Have you visited Jude before?’
    ‘This is my first time.’
    ‘Can I give you some advice?’
    ‘Please.’
    ‘Try not to stare. People don’t realise they’re doing it; under all that damage she’s just a normal twenty-three-year-old girl.’
    By now we were standing outside room nine, and she gave me an encouraging smile before walking away. I took a moment to compose myself, then knocked on the door. The anteroom smelled of fresh flowers, iodine and stale air, but the thing that hit me hardest was the darkness. The curtains were closed even though it was mid-morning. A girl lay on the bed, wreathed in shadows. She was wearing a hat with the brim pulled down, her face hidden, but her greeting was cheerful as I approached her bed.
    ‘You must be the shrink Mum told me about, Alice Quentin.’ Her voice was light and breathless, the words accompanied by air hissing from her respirator.
    ‘Don’t worry, I’m not here to psychoanalyse you. Do you mind if I sit down?’
    ‘Feel free. You’re saving me from the crap on daytime TV.’
    I laughed. ‘I know what you mean. Last year I was in hospital for a while – by the end I was almost brain dead.’
    ‘You’ve experienced the joys of Flog It and Bargain Hunt ?’
    ‘Not to mention Loose Women and Countdown .’ I had no idea if she could see me, but smiled anyway. I got the sense that she was trying to put me at my ease. ‘Do you know why I’m here, Jude?’
    ‘My mother’s asked you to profile my attacker. She’s one hundred per cent certain you’ll find him.’
    ‘She’s your mum. It’s her job to look on the bright side.’
    A spluttering sound issued from her oxygen machine. ‘The bright side stops working after nine operations in a year.’
    ‘I can imagine.’ The nurse’s warning echoed as I gazed down at my pad. ‘Heather says you’re remembering things about the attack. Did the memories come back suddenly?’
    ‘Not