Already Dead by Stephen Booth Page A

He looked towards the road again, to make sure the Toyota was still there. He did have a car. He was holding the keys to prove it.
    ‘Of course. If you’re sure you’re well enough…’
    Mrs Shelley’s face was screwed up in concern. Cooper knew she must be referring to the burns on his arm. But they were healing slowly, and they weren’t so painful now. The skin felt tight on his forearm when he flexed the muscle, but that was only a bit of discomfort. Why should Mrs Shelley think it would prevent him from driving safely?
    ‘I’ll see you later then, Ben,’ she called as he walked away. ‘Don’t catch a chill.’
    And the old lady stood on the pavement in her PVC rain hood and clutched her walking stick, as she watched him unlock the door and get into his car.
    It was only when he was sitting in the driving seat of his Toyota and struggling to fit the key into the ignition that Cooper looked down at his hands and saw how badly they were shaking. They had a tremor so violent that it looked as though he was suffering from Parkinson’s disease.
    He took a deep, ragged breath, trying to steady the shaking.
    ‘Okay, Liz. I got rid of her. I’m on my way now.’
    He pulled out into Welbeck Street, his wheels splashing through a pool of rain water that was spreading across the road from a blocked gutter. Spray splashed on to the windscreen, creating a sudden glittering sheen like a shower of confetti as he turned the first corner.
    He knew what he had to talk to Liz about today. It should have been their wedding next week. Liz had been planning her big day for the past year or more. Yes, probably for a lot longer, now he thought about it. She just hadn’t told him until he’d needed to know. The reception had been booked, the order of service agreed, the honeymoon destination settled on. A cake had been ordered, the flowers chosen. It was all written down in a special A4 notebook with a gold cover, which Liz had kept for the purpose.
    A few minutes later, on the other side of Edendale, Cooper got out of the Toyota then saw that he’d parked it awkwardly, the rear end sticking out into the roadway. He used to be so good at parking, could fit the car neatly into any available space, and was careful never to cause an obstruction for other road users. But now he couldn’t do it. He’d lost the necessary co-ordination. And it didn’t seem to matter any more, either.
    Last night, when he came home late, he’d been surprised to see that the boot of his car contained fencing spikes and a sledgehammer. Then he’d remembered that his brother Matt had left them there weeks ago, when he persuaded Ben to help him with repairs to a few fences at the farm. Matt kept reminding him about them, but he always forgot to take them back.
    And that was the way he was now. Small details just slipped out of his mind as soon as he turned his back or lost sight of them. Cooper supposed the presence of the fence posts in his boot would surprise him every time he saw them. None of these things seemed important to him. Nothing mattered, really. Nothing.
    He seemed to be experiencing sensory hallucinations too. When he got out of the car, he smelled fish and chips. Right there in the middle of nowhere, a powerful scent hit him, without a soul around, let alone a fish and chip shop nearer than half an hour’s drive away. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Standing in his kitchen one night, he’d suddenly got the scent of horse manure. It was such a distinctive smell, very specific. Strange, then, that there should be no horses within a couple of miles of him. Not there in the centre of Edendale. Fish and chip shops, yes. Lots of them. But horses, no. His senses were having a joke.
    He wondered if there was something wrong with him. He’d never heard of this happening to anyone before. But people did hear voices and see things that weren’t there. Maybe hallucinatory smells were a symptom of some brain disease. It was a