Mindsight (9 page)

I switched on the laptop, almost expecting an email from Emily, but my inbox stayed empty. I had her number in the notebook Alice had left for me, so I picked up the phone to call her, but somehow I couldn’t do it and phoned Lorna instead. There was no reply, but I left a message to tell her I wasn’t working on Friday and could come to her then.

After that I stood eating some toast and staring from the window at the rain, the grey clouds, and the empty sea. I knew I should clean the place and do some washing for next week, but instead I watched TV and tried to read.

Finally, I forced myself to put a few things in the washing machine and push the Hoover round the flat. At least it seemed to give me an appetite, but looking in the freezer I knew I couldn’t face more microwaved food. It was five o’clock and too late, on a Sunday, to go to a supermarket.

There was a convenience store not far away, but when I got outside the sun had come out and I found myself heading past the shop, following the smell of fish and chips to the corner of the High Street. When I saw the queue I stopped, ready to turn back to the flat and another frozen ready meal, but I took a breath and forced myself to stand behind the man on the end.

As the queue moved forward, and nobody paid me any attention, I felt myself begin to relax. And, when I asked for a pickled onion from the huge jar on the counter, I was even able to laugh with a woman behind me when she said, rather me than her, she couldn’t stand the things.

As I was pushing my way out I felt a tug on my arm. ‘Hi, babe. How’s it going?’

‘Oh hello, Nicola. Fine, yes, I’m fine.’

The slim, dark-haired man was obviously with her and I took a step back, although he didn’t look like the aggressive character I’d imagined buzzing on my door bell the other night.

Nicola’s hand remained on my arm and at the same time I felt something clutch my knee. The little girl, Molly, was standing, clinging to her mother’s leg and using mine for extra support. Her sticky smile said she wasn’t going to let go without a struggle.

‘She likes you, Clare. You’ll not get away now.’ Nicola turned to the man. ‘Kieran, this is Clare who I was telling you about.’

He smiled and held out his hand. ‘Hello, Clare, nice to meet you. I’m your upstairs neighbour.’ So it wasn’t the ex. Kieran’s hand was warm and dry and I tried to return his smile.

Molly was moving restlessly, giving high-pitched little screams, each one greeted by heavy sighs from the man serving the chips.

‘Clare, you wouldn’t be a darling and take her outside for a minute would you?’ Without waiting for my answer, Nicola peeled the little hand from her own leg and turned the child towards me. ‘Go on, darlin’, go with Clare.’

By now Molly had her hands raised to me, and I had no option but to push my packet of food under my arm and haul her up. She was warm and smelled of sweets, and when she put her arms around my neck and rested her little head on my shoulder something inside me began to ache.

They’d parked the pushchair outside, and Molly clambered from my arms and into it, grabbing a bottle from the seat as she did so and sucking away, her eyes closed with satisfaction. I stood watching her.

Kieran took charge of the pushchair and led the way, stowing their food in a bag hanging from the back and Nicola threaded her arm through mine. ‘This is nice. We can all eat at mine. Kieran’s bought us a bottle, but I’ve got another couple in the fridge.’

‘I’m sorry. That would be lovely, but I can’t, I’ve got an urgent phone call to make.’ It was a lame excuse, but I couldn’t face the thought of socialising, especially with someone as pushy as Nicola. And had I imagined it, or had Kieran’s eyes lingered on me just a fraction too long? I knew it was unlikely anyone would recognise me from newspaper pictures of five years ago, but I made sure to lower my head and let my hair fall across my face as we said goodbye.

Inside, the phone was flashing with a message:

Hi, Clare, it’s me, Emily. I was hoping I’d catch you. Matt says you look great, but he couldn’t get a definite date for a visit out of you. Please, please try to come soon. Once the baby arrives I expect it will be hell here for a bit, so get up here before and we can have time to chat without interruptions. Sorry… rambling… ring me.

It was so lovely to hear her voice that I played the message three times, picking at the fish and chips straight from the bag. When the phone rang I grabbed it, but there was only silence – another cold call. This time I was glad of the interruption because it stopped me dithering. I called Emily’s number. She burst straight into talk. ‘Oh, Clare, it’s wonderful to hear your voice again.’

‘I was just thinking that about yours.’ It was so easy to talk to her, as if the years of silence between us had faded away.

‘So when can you come up?’

‘I’m not sure when I’m working, but I could probably get away for a couple of days next week or the one after. This is so good of you, Em…’ That wretched lump was choking my voice again.

Emily sounded tearful too. ‘Don’t say that. I’m not being good. I’ve missed you so much. Oh damn these hormones. I never used to cry, remember?’

I took a wobbling breath. ‘Of course, you were the hard one. And I can stay in a B&B, you know. You don’t want guests when you must be so tired.’

Emily coughed and her voice steadied. ‘Rubbish, you’re staying here. But look, we’re not doing very well at this so why don’t we say you’ll let me know as soon as you can? Just give me a few hours’ warning.’

I didn’t think I would sleep that night, but I must have dozed because I was woken by the phone. The handset by the bed said the number was unavailable, and I’d asked Alice always to leave a message, so I ignored it.

After that, I seemed to hear every sound. The creak of a door and muffled voices from the main hall had me tensing, wondering if Nic’s ex might cause trouble again. A few minutes later I heard footsteps on the stairs and then the faint strains of jazz from above: Kieran arriving home I guessed. I didn’t mind the jazz; it was soft enough to be soothing, as was the patter of rain on the windows.

Next time the phone rang it woke me from dreams of fire and flashing light. I couldn’t stop myself from checking the caller, but, of course, there was that word
unavailable
again. It was a word I was beginning to hate. Afterwards, I lay, eyes wide, ears still hearing those shrill sounds piercing the silence, until, at last, I fell back into fevered dreams.

Walking along the deserted streets I shivered, whether from cold or tiredness I wasn’t sure. Ragged clouds sped across the sky but there was little rain, just a damp haze with the odd flurry of big drops blown from trees and shop awnings. It was some time before 7 a.m. and I felt as if I’d hardly slept. Needed to wake myself properly before work.

The beach was empty, even of gulls; the water slapping and sucking on the grey shingle. I closed my mind and set off towards the pier, walking as quickly as I could against the pull and slide of the pebbles. As I concentrated on the effort of walking, I could feel my jangled nerves easing a little but the rain became steadier and the wind increased, the water dripping down my neck and wet tendrils of hair sticking to my face, making me clench my teeth and huddle into my thin mac.

They were working to rebuild the pier and there were barriers on the beach, so I turned to go back. But the wind and rain hit me with much greater force. I spotted a shabby café with a sign saying it was open for breakfast but hesitated at the door, thinking maybe I should just try to get a bus home.

‘Hello, Clare. Didn’t take you for an early riser. Here, let me.’ I turned to see Kieran behind me. He reached over my head and pushed open the door. Although I wanted to turn and run, I could see no option but to walk to the counter with him. He smiled down at me, making me even more conscious of my wet hair and pallid face. ‘You sit down and I’ll get them. What do you want?’

I ignored my growling stomach. ‘Oh just a coffee, please.’ The ridiculous thought crossed my mind that Nicola had sent him to follow me, but I was grateful when he came back to the table with our drinks and a couple of muffins.

‘If you don’t want it I’ll eat yours, but you look starved to me.’

I took off my mac, very aware of my damp T-shirt and the heat that throbbed in my cheeks. He smiled. His eyes were an unusual shade, greenish brown, under very dark brows and his chin was grey with the shadow of stubble. He stood to take off his jacket, hanging it over the back of his chair. I concentrated on the muffin.

‘So you were
hungry after all. Sure you don’t want mine?’ he said.

I shook my head with a laugh.

‘And you look tired. Didn’t sleep well?’

‘No.’

‘Join the club.’

He was smiling, waiting for me to say something. ‘It’s the light mornings, I suppose.’
That’s good, keep going.
‘It’ll be better later on.’

‘Hey, don’t wish the good weather away. I’d rather not sleep than go back to winter.’

His laugh was infectious and the man behind the counter joined in.

‘Too right, mate, our summers are short enough as it is.’

Kieran looked at me, his face serious. ‘You will tell me if I make too much noise over your head, won’t you. I sometimes forget that other people are asleep. And I do love to listen to Billie Holliday and Peggy Lee when I’m awake in the night.’

‘I’ve heard your jazz playing now and then, but it doesn’t bother me. I like it.’ I finished my coffee and began struggling back into my wet raincoat. He stood to help me, and I found myself staring at the slightly frayed denim cuff of his shirt and his very brown hand. ‘I’ve got to be at work in an hour. Better get going,’ I said.

He was slipping his jacket on, too: I wasn’t getting away that easily.

The rain had stopped and the promenade was beginning to get busy with joggers, walkers, and cyclists. We walked for a while in silence, then he laughed as he took my arm to help me avoid a boy cycling on the pavement. ‘Nicola’s a great girl isn’t she? I’d say she’s one of the nicest, most genuine, people I’ve ever met.’ Another little laugh. ‘Mind you, I was annoyed she got to meet you first, because I felt as if I already knew you.’

They talk about your blood freezing, and I knew at that moment what it meant. The world shuddered as I remembered the photographers outside court, the grainy snapshots in the tabloids.
What Price Three Lives?
was one of the headlines.

Two gulls landed on the path to tear at a discarded doughnut. A small dog skittered past and somehow my legs continued to carry me onwards. I couldn’t have spoken even if I wanted to and I very much didn’t want to. Finally, what he was saying began to penetrate, to take on a different meaning and the world began turning once more.

‘The landlord’s a friend of mine. He asked me to look after the keys to your place and show people round, and I may say I recommended you over one or two others. Of course, the blonde girl, your sister, was pretty convincing about what a great tenant you’d be.’

I breathed again. No doubt he’d been looking forward to a glamorous Alice lookalike moving in. The scruffy brunette must have been a real let-down.

We got back just as Nicola was pushing Molly’s buggy through the gate. She raised her eyebrows. ‘Hey, you two, you’re not getting together behind my back, are you?’

Kieran grinned and ruffled Molly’s hair, then planted a kiss on Nicola’s cheek. ‘Hello, Molly, morning Nic.’ Then he held the gate wide for me. I scuttled through, pulling out my key as quickly as I could.

As she walked away Nicola was laughing. She called back, ‘Watch him, Clare, he’s dangerous.’

Chapter Eight

Work was difficult. The rain had brought no real break in the heat. If anything it was hotter than ever and the shop felt like a greenhouse: the windows misty with steam, air heavy with the composty smells of greenery and earth. I was so exhausted it took all my efforts to concentrate on serving customers and I was very aware of Stella shooting me some concerned glances. I told myself I’d better make an effort to look brighter tomorrow.

Back in the flat I kicked off my shoes and stood barefoot on the cool tiles in the kitchen. I poured a glass of water and added ice to it. Then let the water run over my wrists and forearms.

My shirt was sticking to me so I pulled it out from the waistband of my trousers, undid the buttons, and flapped the cloth in the air.

It was when I was rubbing the cold glass over my cheeks and neck that I heard the knocking.

It wasn’t coming from the front door, but from the bedroom. A light rhythmic sound: wood against wood. A half-closed door hitting the frame, again and again.

As I went towards the bedroom I heard something else, something different. Not rhythmic this time, but more like fabric brushing against the wall or floor. I pictured someone sliding behind the door or under the bed, alerted by the noise I’d been making.

I pulled my shirt together, and looked back towards my little hallway. Should I run over to Nicola or upstairs to ask Kieran to come down? But they might want to call the police and I couldn’t have that.

I grabbed the heavy lamp that stood next to the sofa and crept to the door, pushing it open hard. It slammed against the wall – no one hiding there. The room looked just like I’d left it this morning: the rumpled bed, the T-shirt I’d slept in on the floor, one drawer half-open.

Then that sound came again and my breath stalled.

A curtain flapped away from the window, sweeping across the wall: the same sound. And no one was there. I lowered the lamp.

But the window was open: surely not wide enough for anyone to get in or out because the sash was fitted with metal pegs to limit the level it could be raised. An arm could come through to steal something, or even drop something inside. I wasn’t sure if it was the breeze flipping the curtains back and forth that made me shiver or the thought of that arm. And, although there had been plenty of hot nights recently, I didn’t remember ever opening, or even unlocking, the window in here.