Page 108 of Double or Nothing

White. Thick. Expensive.

My name written across the front.

Mr Bryce Maddocks.

I freeze when I see the courier sticker. Goods left in a safe place. Downstairs in flat 2.

I open the envelope slowly, as if it might contain a live explosive. This certainly isn’t a one click purchase from Amazon Prime.

My pulse gives one hard thud as I see the letterhead.

No, surely not.

Redwick Hospice Charity Art Event.

My mouth goes dry.

I should go inside. I should put my laptop down. I should make tea, shower, nap and regain some semblance of sanity before dealing with whatever fresh chaos has been dispatched to my home address. I daren’t even hope my suspicions are true, because any kind of hope usually leads to the crushing reality of disappointment.

I should be sensible.

Careful.

Boring.

Fuck it. I drop my laptop by my door and turn straight back down the stairs.

Jenny from flat 2 takes an age to answer, and when she finally opens the door, she does so with the suspicion of a woman wondering whether I’ve secretly joined a smuggling ring since yesterday morning.

“Oh, Bryce,” she says, looking weirdly at me. “I was wondering when you’d be home.”

I can see the three wrapped parcels behind her, propped against her hallway wall with barely enough space to get by.

“I’m so sorry about this,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“They’re very big.”

“Yes. I can see that.”

She lets me past so I can examine my parcels. Tall, wrapped, padded, tagged. Alice Parker’s name printed on each label.

Alice Rose Parker.

Soul Girl.

My fingers tighten around the first parcel.

“Do you need help?” Jenny asks. “I can call Leon, see if he’s home to give you a hand with the lifting.”

“No, no. Thank you. I’ll manage.”

I do not manage. Not gracefully.

I haul the first one up the stairs with the awkward dignity of a man trying not to let his neighbour know he’s dragging the emotional equivalent of a live grenade into his apartment.

The padded parcel catches the wall three times and I apologise to the wall twice over, which is a clear sign I’m not in a fit state to be responsible for anything. But the truth is my heart is racing through more than just exertion.

It’s like an orchestral piece of Heaven and Hell at a booming, large opera house.