To Catch a Creeper (8 page)

‘Send mine back.’ She smiles and strokes her stomach. ‘Hopefully this little one’s going to be as cute and well-behaved as your two.’

Cute and well-behaved. Hardly words I’d use to describe my offspring. Cute, yes, loveable, definitely, but well-behaved. Not so sure. ‘Oh before I forget, I must tell you what happened today in the office…’ I pop a grape into my mouth. ‘Alice told me that Lewis had a go at her, so she grabbed up her stuff and threatened to leave. Then Joff, the really shy bloke who cleans the telephones said…’

‘He’s called Joff? When did you find that out?’

‘Yesterday. He actually spoke to me. Did you know he’s Northern? Oh and…’

‘I’ll go get us something to drink, shall I?’ Declan stands up.

***

‘…and then the guy who works the level above us…’ I stop, she’s staring at me blankly. ‘You know, the good-looking one. The one you said…’ I lower my voice, ‘that you might…if you were single again… Oh and Gurlet and one of the suits had this blazing row. Everyone could hear.’

I look up, Declan’s returned with a tray of tea and biscuits.

‘But apart from that,’ I take two cups and place them on the table next to Rosa, ‘not much going on. Still plugging away at the brochures.’

‘Ah good.’ Her eyes, which have been skimming the corridor almost the whole time I’ve been talking, light up like a beacon. I follow their direction with mine. Alec’s strolling through the ward. You can tell it’s him a mile away by how he walks. As his right foot steps forward both his arms swing to the left. Left foot forward, both arms swing to the right. Bit like he’s doing a tap dance routine without the taps. He’s also got this strange sideways smile, which makes him appear like he’s just been to the dentist and they’ve left a cotton wool stick in his mouth.

Still, he makes Rosa happy and that’s what’s important. And he has nice skin. Really nice skin. Dark and Italian looking, even though he’s Irish.

‘Dec!’ He punches Declan on the arm and pecks me on the cheek. ‘Can’t believe you sneaked off work before me. How are you, my darling?’ He bends down to kiss Rosa.

‘Fine now you’re here.’ She gives him a soppy kiss back and a big squeeze to his bum.

‘We’ve only just arrived ourselves,’ I say, standing up and taking the flowers from him. ‘I’ll go put these in water. Back in a sec.’

When I return, Alec’s sitting up behind Rosa in bed, while Declan’s leafing through one of the magazines I brought her.

I go over to the IV line and flick it with my finger. Yep, still working.

‘So that’s good news, isn’t it, Cathy?’ Alec smiles. ‘The doctor says Rosa can come out tomorrow.’

‘He did?’ Declan says.

‘He did?’ I echo, before adding. ‘But why didn’t you say before?’

‘I never got the chance,’ she laughs. ‘Besides,’ she sends an adoring look in Alec’s direction, ‘I wanted to save it for Alec.’

‘Great news, eh!’ Alec’s beaming all over.

‘Yeah, great.’ I try sounding more enthusiastic than I actually feel. I mean I do want her home, and desperately miss her company and need her at work, just… She didn’t tell
me
, did she? If I’d had news like that, would I have managed to stop myself if Rosa had come round? No of course I wouldn’t. I’d have blurted it out the second I knew… Declan’s looking at me funnily as if he can read my mind, when out of the blue I’m saved by the patient in the next door bed.

‘Nurse!’ she shouts through closed curtains. ‘Nurse!’

I stand up. ‘Won’t be a mo, Mrs Mackintosh. Excuse me, everyone, duty calls.’

***

Arriving home, we luckily manage to find a parking space less than a hundred yards away from our terraced house. A tiny miracle for Oakleigh Close. It’s seven p.m. now and already beginning to get dark.

Declan presses his key button which locks the car doors. It’s a new one – shiny black Mercedes. Belongs to Wilson Inc. They decided at long last to be generous, gave him a big bonus and a company car. We’re spending most of the bonus on a downstairs extension, just topping it up with a bank loan, which, wait for it, I’m going to be paying. Yes, my salary’s not only being used for the little extras that make life more enjoyable, I’m also financing, by myself, my very own loan.

Pimple opens the door for us, big rosy grin on a ruddy weather-beaten face. ‘How’s Rosa?’

‘Great.’ I hang my jacket over the coat stand. ‘Coming out tomorrow. Everything OK here?’

‘Hunky-dory.’ She smiles, removes her plastic gloves and give a small salute. ‘Both sets of homework completed. Josh is finishing off his history project and Sophie’s in her bedroom practising violin.’

‘As normal then,’ I say smartly, catching Declan’s eye. ‘I expect it was tough going through the tea-time chaos?’

‘Not at…neaow,’ she rapidly changes key as I grab her elbow and frogmarch her into the kitchen.

‘So the doctors were pleased with Rosa’s progress then?’ she continues after I shut the door.

‘Either that or the insurance money’s run out.’

‘I’ve something here you might want to pass on next time you see her.’ She rummages around in her wicker basket and pulls out a leaflet. ‘Might help. Might not. Worth a nose.’

I scan through it. All about placenta praevia. Pimple also cleans for the local medical clinic.

‘Declan seemed a bit woebegone. Not overworking again, is he?’

‘Nah, he feels bad about Hugh.’

‘Hugh Grant? Tinglan hasn’t left him, has she?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. Though she is much younger. So it’s probably inevitable.’

‘Hugh Hefner then?

‘Playboy Hugh? No way.’

‘Then what Hugh?’ She gathers her things together.

‘Don’t know his surname. Colleague of Declan’s and he just died the other day.’

‘Oh dear. Brain haemorrhage?’

‘No.’

‘Acute Septicaemia?’

‘No.’

‘Idiopathic seizure?’

‘No.’

‘Sleep apnoea?’

I shake my head. ‘Definitely not. He was awake.’

‘Electrocution? Drowning?’

‘It was to do with the heart.’

‘Pulmonary artery obstruction? Cardiomyopathy?’

‘Yes, yes, it might have been. I didn’t get that many details. Main thing is, Declan’s not taken it too well.’

‘Survivor’s guilt,’ Pimple says authoritatively. ‘Dr Ross in our surgery deals with all that. I’m sure he’ll have a leaflet. I’ll ask him.’

‘Well thanks, but if he thinks I’ve told you…’ I shrug.

‘Maybe just look at it, lovey, learn what to do, then pass the information on as your own nuggets of wisdom.’

My eyes shine. ‘Fabulous idea. He’ll be–’

The ringing of the doorbell interrupts us. I leave Pimple putting on her coat and go to answer it. Eleanor, Mrs Baker’s daughter, is standing on the doorstep, her usually immaculate coiffure looking slight ruffled. ‘Mind if I come in?’

‘Of course not.’ I lead her through to the kitchen, introduce her briefly to Pimple and they exchange polite smiles and handshakes.

‘It’s a private matter,’ she indicates to Pimple, ‘if you don’t mind.’

I look at Pimple who seems a little put out and I’m about to protest indignantly on her behalf, ‘Anything you say to me, you can say to my cleaner’ but before I do
Pimple picks up her basket and bucket and says, ‘I have to be off now anyway, dearie. Another client. See you next week.’

***

‘Tea, Eleanor?’

‘Oh,’ she looks thrown by the question, ‘er, yes please… Yes. Yes. Thank you.’

‘So how can I help?’ I pull two cups from the cupboard.

‘I’m worried about Mother.’

‘The white bars on the windows?’ I think back to our doorstep conversation as I place teabags into the cups. ‘Ruining the look of the place?’

‘Not just that.’ She rubs her hand up and down her cheek as if relieving the tension. ‘She’s imagining all sorts, noises in the night, creaking floorboards, etc. Refuses a live-in helper or even a cleaner, I ask you. And then all this talk about burglars creeping around.’

‘But there
is
a burglar,’ I blurt. ‘Nicknamed the–’

‘Maybe there is,’ she cuts in. ‘Maybe there isn’t. And maybe pigs are patrolling the streets in pretty pink frocks. It’s just too much, too much…’ Her voice trails off.

‘I’m sorry.’ I sit down and pat her shoulder sympathetically.

She sighs heavily. ‘Doctor Morgan thinks it may be the onset of Alzheimer’s. She has all the symptoms. Forgetting names. Confused about past events. Walking around with her skirt tucked in her underclothes.’

‘But everyone does that, don’t they? Yesterday I found…no, doesn’t matter.’ I was about to mention how I went to work the other day with my jumper inside out and if Alice hadn’t hissed, ‘Showing off your size, Cath?’ as I walked in, I could’ve been laughed at all day, but I don’t because even though she’s come over to visit, I get the impression she doesn’t rate me too highly.

There’s a few seconds silence when the kettle clicks off.

‘Sugar?’ I ask.

‘No thanks. My brother and I, we both thought this move would be for the best, after Father passed on. We thought living closer to town would be better for her and Crouch End’s near enough we can both keep a watchful eye. I’m in Friern Barnet, Eric’s in Finchley. Not that he ever bothers visiting,’ she adds bitterly.

‘Men often make bad visitors.’ I hand her a cup and take a sip of mine.

‘All we ever wanted was to see her settled and happy,’ she seethes. ‘She’s never forgiven me for taking away her car.’

‘You took away her car?’ I can’t help a small gasp escaping.

‘She fought against it, even tried hiding the keys from us, but really we had no choice. On one hand we were stripping her of her independence but on the other, if we’d let her carry on, she could have knocked down a small child. Her reactions are very slow. Are your parents around?’

‘My parents? No, they’re both long dead.’

‘You’re lucky,’ she carries on briskly. ‘Anyway, now all she does all day is sit in front of her television and complain.’

‘Maybe she’s lonely,’ I suggest gently. ‘Maybe it’s her way of saying that she wants to come live with you?’ I’m going into Isobel’s analysing mode, which she gets from Larry, her husband who’s a relationship counsellor. They say that about your friends; spend enough time with them and you start adopting their mannerisms.

‘Live with me!’ Eleanor looks appalled. ‘God no! She’d drive me potty. We’re chalk and cheese. I was almost much closer to Father.’

‘So was I as a kid, but then he walked–’

‘Look, I mustn’t keep you any longer,’ she carries on, obviously not interested in my issues. ‘I came to ask if you’d mind awfully checking on her every now and again.
I’ll be dropping by most days myself. But if you see her wandering around looking lost or if her behaviour becomes even more bizarre, maybe you could call this number?’ She hands me a card.

‘Of course,’ I reassure her. ‘You don’t have to worry ab–’

‘I’ll see myself out. Goodbye.’

And with that she’s gone.

Chapter 7

‘More drinks?’

I glance at the waiter who’s flourishing an extra long daffodil-yellow drinks menu and smiling expectantly at me, then at my dining companion sitting opposite.

Guess who it is?

Turks!

Yes, a real business meeting!

OK, might not mean much to some people but it’s been a few long years since I had any sort of one-to-one business meeting.

When I came in this morning, Friday, Alice dropped by to say I had to call Turks right away, and when I did he asked if I was free for lunch.

‘I’ll need to check my diary.’ I blushed crimson which was a bit wasteful because he couldn’t see me. ‘What time?’

‘Twelve?’

‘Twelve midday. Um…’ I flicked through a
Baby Bits
catalogue (the nearest thing to hand) in what I hope sounded like a leafing-through-diary kind of way. ‘Yes, er, I think I could fit that in.’ I made my voice as efficient and brisk as possible. ‘Just need to reschedule a couple of things.’

‘Good. I’ve a client-based meeting this morning, so my phone will be off. As long as you’re sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure. Twelve it is. Bye.’ I click off.

‘Nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more,’ someone whispered in my ear. I whipped my head around so fast I cricked my neck. Thank God, it was only Alice.

‘What are you talking about?’ My colour deepened.

‘You and Turks. Lunch.’

‘It’s not lunch…like that. It’s well, it is lunch…as in lunch
meeting
.’

‘A meeting,
yeah, right
.’ She nodded twice in a meaningful way.

‘Oh my God! He didn’t say where! Christ!’ My neck hairs rose one by one in mortification. ‘I’ll have to call his mobile…but he’s going out. Client-based meeting. Didn’t say what clients. I can’t ring him. What should I do? What should I do?’

‘Relax, Cathy. He always takes his girlfr…I mean, staff, to the same place. Lorenzo’s, Piccadilly.’

‘Gee, thanks, Alice.’ I threw her a relieved smile. ‘Saved my life.’

‘Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ she’d trilled as she sauntered out.

‘Well I won’t show him my bare bum, if that’s what you mean,’ I’d trilled back.

***

‘Tch, tch, tch, tch.’ I’m drumming my fingers on the daffodil-yellow menu, still pondering my choice while the waiter and Turks await my decision. Chenin Blanc, Pinot Grigio, Merlot, Rioja, a multitude of cocktails…or boring fruit juice. If I don’t go for the alcohol, he might think I’m a fuddy-duddy, if I do choose it, he might think I’m an old soak who’s always going off for long boozy lunches, wasting his valuable budget.

‘Nah, not for me. I’ll just stick to mineral water. I’ve heaps to do this afternoon and I’ve a rave to drive to tonight – after work.’

‘A rave? Really?’ A small smile quivers on his lips as he inspects my face for signs that I’m having him on. I make an extreme effort to remain impassive while pretending not to notice. ‘Well that’s probably not until, what, one a.m.?’

‘Sometimes two. It’s all…er…pretty last minute. They’re going to text my iPod Touch. That’s the signal.’

‘Although, as you say, it’ll probably be so late any alcohol in you would be long gone. Bottle of Chateau Loudenne, s’il-vous-plait.’ He hands the menu back to the waiter and turns to me. ‘What’s wrong, Cathy? You look as nervous as a duck. Are you OK?’