16
When I got to Newcastle Park, the house where Sarah Bradley had lived, I had to kick-motivate myself. The voice going,
“What a waste of time, not to mention bloody reckless.”
I knocked on the door, opened by an extremely ugly girl in dungarees and bare feet. Dirty bare feet.
She snapped,
“What?”
Like that.
I was tempted to say,
“Well, you could wash your feet for a start.”
Began my spiel as I fast-flicked my wallet at her. It had an expired drivers licence and my library card.
“Sorry to bother you. I’m from Mutual Alliance, and there is a life policy on your former flatmate, Sarah Bradley. I need to check a few points.”
She shouted over her shoulder,
“Peg, there’s some guy from the insurance company, are you decent? … oh … I’m Mary.”
I didn’t catch the muffled reply, but it
