Rania Algafari never asked to be different, and when she escaped the war in Syria and moved to the UK, her only goal was to live her life in peace. Get up, go to work, avoid talking to the dead - that sort of thing.
But not everyone dies quietly, an...
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"The police want to talk to me," I told Shannon.
After a weekend of sleepless nights and bad coffee, tempered only by putting on a pair of trainers and pounding myself into the pavement, I'd spent Monday morning looking after a grumpy Aisling and counting down the minutes until Shannon got home. The afternoon didn't improve when Martha phoned, asking me to come in a little early tomorrow for an interview. Just routine, she said. The cops wanted to speak to all the staff. And, she confided, the younger officer was kind of cute. Would I mind assessing whether or not I thought he was gay? Because opinion was divided fifty/fifty at the moment, and she didn't want to embarrass herself by asking him out if he batted for the other team.
As if I'd know.
Shannon bounced Aisling on her hip, cooing softly. "I'm sure the police thing is nothing. Do you think I should take Aisling to the doctor? I reckon her sniffles are just a cold, but she seems really miserable."
"She'll probably catch something worse if you do. Think of all the people who'll be coughing and spluttering at the surgery."
Less than a month until Christmas, and I was full of cheer today, wasn't I?
"I guess. Maybe I'll wait and see how she is tomorrow."
"Sorry for being so snappy. Take her if you think you should."
"No, you're right. Rania, is everything okay? You know, with work? After the murder? You don't think the guy'll come back, do you?"
"Mr. Weston's upgraded the security for the whole building."
"But what about when you go home? I mean, the bus stop's a ten-minute walk away."
"What choice do I have? It's not like I can afford to take cabs."
And getting my own car was a distant dream. I couldn't even pay for driving lessons on my salary, let alone the vehicle itself. Yes, I'd driven in Syria, everything from small hatchbacks to military trucks when the need arose, but I'd never exactly got around to getting my licence. And in England, with all its laws and regulations, that piece of paper was everything.
"You should get one of those rape alarms, just in case."
Nobody would hear an alarm out at Daylesford Hall. The estate may have been beautiful, but it was also isolated. But Shannon meant well, and I didn't want to let on how worried I truly was, so I forced a smile.
"I'll look into it."
"Will you wake me when you come back so I know you got home safely?"
It was a strange feeling, having somebody care about me. Shannon was the first person to do so since my mother passed away three days after my sixteenth birthday, the first person not related to me by blood who cared whether I lived or died, and I still found the concept slightly awkward.
