Catch Me When I Fall (9 page)

surface with a cloth. At last I sat down at his clear desk in his clean room, put my head on my arms and let myself sink into a shallow, fretful sleep.
When I woke, with a jerk as if I was falling, I felt stiff and untested. I looked at my watch and saw it was nearly five o'clock. I trudged upstairs, but Charlie still wasn't back so I made a large
pot of strong coffee, then phoned Naomi.
'Naomi. It's Holly.'
'Holly! Oh, God, I'm sorry if I've ruined your night. Charlie's been my saviour. It was an electric cable. The wires were exposed and they'd got terribly hot. He's patched it up for the time being, but he had to unscrew this box on the wall and unfasten -"
'That's enough information,' I said blearily. 'I've made us all
a pot of coffee. Come over and drink it.'
'I don't have your energy. I need to go to sleep, not drink coffee to wake me up."
Ten minutes later, Charlie returned. He looked dazed and disconnected, but I took him into his study. He blinked at his room. It was tidy. It was almost bare.
'Here,' I said, handing him my piece of paper. He looked at it blankly. 'I've written it down for you. It's very simple. You've got to make four phone calls, one after another, starting at ten a.m. And you've got to write three letters. I've drafted them for you. It's not as bad as it seemed. And send off the invoices. Then people might send you some money.'
He looked at the paper, then looked at me. 'How can you do this?' he said.
'Once I get going with something I can't leave it until it's done.'
'I don't know what to say.'
Im sorry about earlier,' I said.
'No. No, it's me who should be sorry.'
I put my arms round him. 'We're all right, aren't we?'

'I'm going to take a shower," he said. 'Then we should try and get some sleep.'
"It's way too late to go to bed," I said, trying not to notice that he hadn't answered my question. 'I thought we could have some
breakfast. We could have a walk before I go to work.'
'Aren't you shattered?'
'Sleep's overrated,' I said. "There are too many interesting other...' The words were tripping over themselves and getting caught in my mouth like something too dry to eat. 'Other things. You know what I mean?'
'I don't know if I do," said Charlie. 'You're way beyond me.' 'Is that a compliment?' I asked, but he didn't reply.

8

It's easier to think when you walk, and easier not to think, as well. You just stride along, your feet hitting the pavement and the cold air rinsing through you. You can see things without seeing them, hear them but take no notice.
I walked all the way to work that morning, Archway to Soho, maybe six miles along big, busy roads. Across the dizzying bridge, trying not to look over this morning. Down the hill, Kentish Town Road, Camden High Street. I had a perfect cup of coffee in a little cafe, smoked an illicit cigarette that I cadged from a young woman, and eavesdropped on a conversation between two schoolgirls about how difficult it was to snog properly when you wore braces on your teeth. Then along Hampstead Road, on to Tottenham Court Road, and there I was, a stone's throw from our office. I looked at my watch. It seemed to have taken me just over an hour and a half, including the coffee stop, which seemed rather quick. Maybe it wasn't six miles after all, or maybe" I'd walked very fast. I noticed that my cheeks were glowing and
hair was stuck to my forehead with sweat.
I bought a poppy-seed muffin in Luigi's and ate it leaning against the wall outside the office, allowing myself to cool down. A woman on roller-blades tacked gracefully towards me and gave me a wide smile as she passed. Perhaps, I thought, I should get some of those. Then I could slide and swoop to work every
morning. It didn't look too hard.
'Hi!'
"Meg, I didn't see you. I was in another world.'
'Sleep well?"

'Fine."
"I went to bed before ten and got up at eight. Bliss."
'You look different,' I said. 'What have you done to yourself?' "Nothing!'
'You have. You've done something to your hair.'
She flushed and put a hand up. 'I bought one of those straighteners out of a catalogue, and when I got up this morning I just did it,' she said. 'I looked in the mirror and saw the same face I always see with a frizz on top.' Then, defensively: 'Does it look dreadful?'
'No. But you don't have a frizz, you have curls. They're lovely. I wish I had curly hair like you.'
"No, you bloody don't, Holly,' she said, and for a minute her mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed and she looked like someone else. She looked like Charlie had the night before, when I'd told him he should become a plumber. Then she smiled. 'Oh, well, it makes a change. It'll roll itself up when the wind changes.
One other thing...' She stopped.
"What?'
'I didn't know if I should tell you.'
"Go on. You've got to tell me now.'
'Someone phoned me. A man. He didn't say who he was, but he said he knew you and you were heading for trouble. He said we
all reap what we sow, or something. He sounded rather sinister.' 'Was he carrying a scythe?" 'Holly!' she said reprovingly.
I couldn't think of anything else to say.

There are three lavatories at our office. At nine minutes to twelve, I went into the largest one, rolled my coat into a bolster and put it on top of the closed toilet seat. Then I kicked off my shoes, lowered myself to the floor and laid my cheek gratefully on the rough warmth of the coat. I closed my eyes.

The toilet next to mine flushed. I opened my eyes again and looked at my watch. A quarter past midday. The strange buzzing seemed to have gone from my head, so I stood up, slipped my shoes back on, picked up my coat and walked out of the cubicle. I washed my hands and face, brushed my hair in front of the small mirror and marched back into the office.
'We have a letter from Deborah's lawyer and he's threatening to take action against us for her unfair dismissal,' said Meg, as I
took a seat opposite her.
'Is it a problem?"
"I've asked Chris to come round this afternoon to talk about
it.'
"Maybe I've brought ruination on the firm,' I said. "I'm sorry." 'And there's someone on his way up to see you.'
'Who's that?' I started riffling helplessly through the diary.
'He didn't say. He just said he was here to see Holly Krauss. I assumed '
'It doesn't matter.'
But it did matter. Rees's smile didn't waver as he approached me across the room. Once more, I felt that sense of queasy revulsion.
'Hello there, Holly.'
I could feel several pairs of eyes watching us curiously.
'I have nothing to say to you,' I said coldly. 'Please leave.' "Oh, I haven't really come to see you. I was at a loose end and I just wanted a look round where you work. Get a sense of your
life, you know the kind of thing. And you must be Meg?' 'That's right. Can I help you?'
'We talked last night on the telephone. Remember?'
'In which case, I think Holly's right and you should leave
immediately,' she said splendidly. 'Or shall I call the police?" 'ALL women here, is it?' Meg picked up the phone.

"Don't worry," he said. Im just going." He looked at me, then pinched my cheek between his finger and thumb so it hurt. Til wait for your call, Holly. But I won't wait long. And I won't go away."

Numbers and dates slid mysteriously into the right grids on the screen. How did I do that? I could sense that Meg hadn't gone away.
"What?'
'That man, he's dangerous,' said Meg. 'Oh, I don't think so. He's just a creep.' 'Holly, can you hear yourself?' 'No.'
'Have you told Charlie?"
'You know when a machine's running smoothly and the cogs and wheels are clicking round together and it's all oiled and you feel you could just go on and on working like that for ages? Then along comes Rees, and he's like a spare bolt that's been dropped into your perfectly running machine and you know if you don't get rid of him at once that there'll be this terrible screeching of metal and sparks and things will fly out at you, and with a grinding and a wrenching and a rusty screech it'll all come to a halt. You know that feeling?'
"You haven't told Charlie, then.'
'No. I'm not going to ... What? You don't really think I should?'
Meg looked at me and I couldn't read her expression. Then she looked away and drummed her fingers on her desk. "Sometimes,' she said, in a voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it, 'things are better out in the open.'
'Sometimes they are,' I said. 'Sometimes they definitely aren't.' 'Holly...' She hesitated.
'Yes?"

"Doesn't matter. You should at least call the police."
'No."
"So you're just going to ignore it and hope it goes away all by itself?"
I thought for a moment. 'I think most things go away, if you ignore them enough.'

9

There are times when I feel scared of going to sleep. It's too like dying. That evening I didn't dare sleep, although I knew I was stupid with exhaustion. I picked at a takeaway Charlie had ordered for us and talked incessantly so that he wouldn't ask me any questions. Every time there was a second of terrifying silence, I rushed to fill it. We watched the television news, and after it a quiz show. I kept shouting out the wrong answers. Eventually Charlie turned it off and said he was tired and was going up to bed.
'I'll be up soon,' I said. "Any minute now.'
I made myself a cup of tea, hoping it would calm me, but it tasted odd, like mouldy straw. I turned on the television again and flicked through the channels, waiting for something to grab my attention. I was unable to settle on anything for longer than a few minutes. Faces leered at me from the screen, words pounded in my ears but didn't make sense. At half past one, I finally crept upstairs, stubbing my toe on the bedroom door and yelping in pain.
Charlie half opened his right eye. 'Holly?' he mumbled.
I waited till he was fully asleep again, then turned on my bedside light. I like reading poems when I can't sleep. Poems and cookbooks. I never cook, but one day I'm going to start, and by then my head will be full of mouthwatering recipes, like this one for smoked haddock and mussel pie.
I realized I was hungry, so I dragged myself back out of bed and padded downstairs to the fridge. We have a huge fridge far too big for two people -and there's hardly ever anything in

it except coffee and beer and butter and the little drinking yoghurts that Charlie insists on buying and which remind me of artificially sweetened blancmange. Tonight there were some marinated anchovies I couldn't remember seeing before, so I ate half of one, but it wasn't right for a midnight feast. Too salty. I thought of waves crashing against limpet-encrusted rocks. Men with grated knuckles hauling nets flail of writhing silver.
When I got back into bed I pressed my chilly, tense body against Charlie's warm, sleeping one and tried to work out how many hours of sleep I'd had in the last week, but the arithmetic seemed enormously difficult. I kept losing count. I put my arms round Charlie -my lovely, warm, solid, kind, trusting husband -and my lips against the nape of his neck.
"I'm going to be so very good now,' I said, into the tightness of his skin. "I'm going to be quite extraordinarily good. You won't recognize me. Another woman entirely.'

Dawn came softly. My eyes snapped open. I remembered I hadn't dug out the information on training days I'd promised Trish, and some time during the night I'd remembered that I'd promised to drop off a blanket to a homeless woman who always sat outside the Underground station on my way into the office. I put my clothes on quickly -my leather trousers, because I was giving a talk to a group of men in suits -and took the stairs two at a time. I put the kettle on, pinged my computer into life.
At seven I woke Charlie with coffee, then poked around in the cupboard for cereal. I hate cereal, with its texture of sweet, mushy cardboard. I prodded the flakes
with my spoon then tipped the bowl into the bin. Charlie stared at the paper, never turning the pages. He hadn't shaved this morning.
'Did you sleep well?' I asked.
He muttered something.
I didn't. Insomnia again.'

I squinted at the back of his paper. ""Is afraid of disturbing adders", six letters. Dreads. Yes! How about that for brilliance? Or what about "Big name that appears nightly"? VIP. No. Star. Star! OK, thirteen letters, "Vigilant chap who never does a day's work...""
Charlie folded the paper and the crossword disappeared.

Meg rang me as soon as I arrived in the office, her voice thick. "Holly, is it all right if I take the day off? I feel lousy.'
'Of course,' I said. 'Snuggle up with a hot-water bottle. Can I do anything for you?'
"It's probably just a cold coming, plus exhaustion. I can't keep going like you. I'll be in tomorrow. The only thing is, I was going to drive to that place near Bedford to have a look at it this afternoon. We can put it off till later. I don't think it'd matter.'
I did frantic calculations in my head. I was talking to a group of management consultants later in the morning, but that wouldn't clash. I could move back my meeting with the computer people. 'I can do it.'
'Are you sure? I don't want to pile things on you. You've been working so hard.'
'No, honestly. It'll all be fine. No problem. Leave it to me.'

There was a time a couple of years ago when I was single and, although I wasn't exactly an old maid -I was twenty-four friends used to invite me round because they had found someone they thought I'd like. These events weren't generally very successful. I'm not good at following plans. You can't go looking for the important things in life. They happen on the edges of your vision when you think you're doing something else. So when I was told that X was exactly my type, I would be mildly insulted by the idea that somebody could ever really understand what my type was. I would spend a whole evening

talking with great intensity to a married woman sitting on the other side of the dinner-table, ignoring the probably very nice young man who had been carefully placed next to me. Worse still, there were occasions where friends tried to be more subtle about it and I didn't cotton on, or at least not until weeks later. I was like a fish that hadn't bitten the bait because I hadn't known there was any to bite. I would be lifting a coffee cup to my mouth and would stop and say to myself: "So that's what the evening was for.'
Sometimes it would all happen in reverse. I was once having supper with a friend I knew vaguely and three or four other people I didn't know at all. It was one of those evenings when everything seemed in tune with everything else, the colours a little brighter, the focus sharper. There was a gorgeous man sitting next to me. He was so perfect in every way that he was almost like a character in a porn movie. He had some over-the-top job like organizing round-the-world yachting races and he was tanned and tall and I even remember his name: Glenn. I decided that I was going to make him fall in love with me that very evening and I was dazzling. I seethed to be thinking twice as quickly as everybody else. I was always a step ahead of them. I had the sensation of what it must be like to be an actor on a great night in the theatre when you know, you just know because of the quality of the silence as much as the laughter or the applause -that you have a complete grip on the audience. When I left, I felt it was the best evening I had spent in my entire life. I was happy and I knew I was happy, which made me even happier.
On the way home I realized I didn't have Glenn's phone number and he didn't have mine, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't have to wander through London with a glass slipper to find me. He'd get my number from my friend, and in future years we'd look back on that evening and laugh about the way