Captivation (2 page)

She picked up a tea towel to wipe the flour from her hands as she crossed the kitchen and headed down the hall to the front door. She flung the towel over her shoulder, and pressed her eye up against the peephole to check who it was before she opened up the door. Through the tiny opening she could see an older woman, her face turned to look down the hallway, impatience etched in the creases around her eyes as she waited.

Juliette, deciding that this woman was harmless, turned the latch then pulled the door inwards.

‘Yes?’ she said politely.

‘Hi.’ The woman’s eyes swept over Juliette before settling on her face, ‘I’m from twenty K, my cat’s vanished. Black Persian. She doesn’t normally leave the apartment, so I’m getting worried. Have you seen her?’ Her foot was tapping a rhythmic pattern on the carpet as she waited for Juliette to respond.

‘No, sorry,’ Juliette replied quickly, hoping she’d leave.

‘Never mind. If you see her, please do let me know. Twenty K,’ she repeated, and she turned to leave, presumably to knock on the next door. At the last second, she turned back.

‘Flour. On your nose,’ she told Juliette.

‘Oh, thanks,’ said Juliette. Embarrassed, she stepped back inside and pulled the tea towel off her shoulder to clean herself off.

Back in her apartment, though, an idea was forming in her mind. She didn’t like venturing into the outside world at the moment – and that was fine, she’d work on it eventually – but, in the meantime, a plan about how to move all of those baked goods had occurred to her. Here she was, living in this massive apartment block – a building that was filled with people. People she could reach without having to meet face-to-face, without having to venture too far.

She hurried back to the kitchen, and pulled a stool up to the bench in a position in which she could keep one eye on the oven while she started planning. Thoughts of Mrs Twenty-K and her missing cat vanished from her mind and a smile played around the edges of her lips. This could be her new project. Her new way to keep busy – her new reason to avoid the real world for just that little bit longer.

It was 2 am when Juliette crept out through her apartment door. She carried a basket that was heavy with muffins, squares of slice and cupcakes. Each portion was wrapped up in a piece of red cloth and tied with string. A tag was attached, with a message written in her delicate handwriting:
Please accept this morning treat, your neighbour, J xx.

Under the message was a description of which cake or slice was enclosed. It had taken her all afternoon and evening to finish the baking, and then she had worked on into the night, cutting the fabric (leftovers from the last time they had the drapes re-done), wrapping the food and labelling it.

The apartment block was in the shape of a horseshoe, and twenty-five storeys high. Juliette lived on the twentieth floor. She would start up on the top floor, and work her way from one side of the building all the way around to the other end of the horseshoe. She should have just enough portions to cover the entire level. Tomorrow night, she’d move on to the next floor.

As Juliette stole along the corridors, leaving a carefully wrapped parcel in front of each door, she felt a thrilling sense of adrenalin course through her. It was silly, really, it wasn’t as though she was breaking into a bank vault in the dead of night. For goodness sake, she was just playing the part of some sort of baked-goods fairy. But for some reason, the idea of these strangers stepping out into the hallways in the morning and finding her gift –food that she had so lovingly manipulated and kneaded with her own two hands – and of her treats passing their lips – stranger’s lips, lips she might never set eyes on – was exhilarating.

When she was done, she returned to her apartment, her body tingling with excitement. It was almost three now, but she couldn’t sleep. The idea of lying down, closing her eyes, shutting off her thoughts, seemed incomprehensible.
She wandered through her living room, circling the coffee table, feeling as jittery as if she had drunk five cups of coffee. What now? How to entertain herself while she waited for her body to calm down and become ready for sleep? Television? Blah. TV bored her. Her eyes strayed to the study door and she wondered about stepping inside, about sitting down at the computer. The computer where all of Danny’s award-winning novels had been created. But no. She hadn’t been back in there since his death – and considering what had happened in the bathroom when she used that shower gel, giving herself another new reminder of Danny surely wasn’t a good idea. What if she was losing her mind?

She decided she would at least change; start getting ready for bed. In her bedroom she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor, then pulled off her sleeveless top and unhooked her bra. She felt under her pillow for her nightie, black silk with spaghetti straps over the shoulders, and she slipped it over her head then tugged it down over her breasts, stomach and then her thighs.

And that’s when she felt it – the distinct sense that someone was watching her. Juliette swung around, her eyes roving the dimlylitroom. Ridiculous. There couldn’t be anyone else in here. Her eyes landed on the cream curtains hanging in front of the sliding doors which led out to her balcony. They were partially closed. She strode determinedly over to them and, without stopping to think about it, she flung them the rest of the way open. She stopped still, her eyes sweeping the balcony from one side to the other. Nothing. Nobody.

On impulse, she unlocked the doors and pulled them apart, then stepped out onto the balcony. It was the middle of summer, so the air was still mild, despite the late hour. She crossed the cool tiles in bare feet and then stood at the glass balustrade, resting her elbows on the smooth railing. Her apartment faced into the centre of the horseshoe. Looking down, she could see the dark courtyard, with small pockets of the garden illuminated by glowing lamps. To the right, she could see out towards the ocean. Her block was across the road from Coogee Beach.

Straight ahead, though, she could see rows of apartments – the other side of the horseshoe. She gazed up towards the twenty-fifth floor, thinking of all those people, asleep inside their bedrooms, who would be waking in a few hours to find a small gift outside their door. Then her eyes fell to the balcony directly opposite hers, and her stomach jumped as she realised that there was someone standing out there –a man, wearing only boxer shorts. And he was staring straight across at her. Was that why she had had the sense that someone was watching her, even from inside her room?

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself, embarrassed to be seen in her revealing silk slip. She backed away and quickly disappeared inside. She hadn’t expected to see anyone else at this time of night. Once inside, she drew the curtains shut and sat down on her bed, breathing hard. She was quite sure that wasn’t her imagination – he was definitely looking straight across at her. Not doing anything, not waving a friendly hello – just standing there and staring.

After five minutes, she stood up and walked tentatively back to the curtains. Standing to one side, she curled her fingers around the heavy material and twitched them back a fraction. Then she peered outside, her eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. He was gone. The balcony was empty. She let the curtain fall back into place and then returned to her bed. This time, she climbed under the covers.

She usually still slept on her half of the bed, curled up as though expecting Danny to come and take his spot on the other side. But tonight, for some reason, she wriggled her way into the middle, and rolled onto her back. Then she stretched out her arms and legs, taking a moment to enjoy the vast expanse of space around her.

Eventually, Juliette fell asleep.

Chapter Three

When Juliette woke the next morning, it was late. She’d slept with the curtains drawn tight, so the first shards of morning light hadn’t crept into her apartment to fall on her face and wake her as they normally would. She lay still for a moment, trying to figure out why it was that she felt so … content. And then she realised what she was feeling –it was a sense of satisfaction. Had she climaxed in her sleep last night? She tried to remember what she’d dreamt about and it came back to her in a tiny explosion of scenes – Danny lying on top of her, her palms pressed flat on his chest, his body thrusting in and out. Then the two of them standing together, Danny behind her, his hands encasing her breasts – she was holding onto the door jamb in front as he pushed against her, again and again. As the memories came back, she felt the skin between her thighs awaken, and when she slipped her hand down to check, her suspicions were confirmed – the material of her pants clung to her, damp with her moisture. Yes, that had definitely been one of the better dreams she’d had since Danny had died.

The buzzer for her intercom sounded and Juliette sat up, confused for a moment. Then she remembered the bookshop delivery she was expecting. Dammit, she must have slept even later than she had first thought. She flung back the covers and hurried out into the hall to let Suzanne into the building. Juliette buzzed her in without a word, so it was a surprise when a few minutes later, having thrown on her silver and blue kimono over her nightie,
she opened the door and it wasn’t Suzanne standing there waiting for her. She looked down at the box in the guy’s hands. ‘Pages & Chapters Bookstore’ was stamped across the cardboard, so it
was
her book delivery. She had that part right, at least.

‘Where’s Suzanne?’ she asked immediately, pulling her kimono closed across her chest, slightly flustered.

‘Hi. There’s a book signing at the store, Harper Jane is coming in. Suzanne couldn’t do the deliveries today. I’m Chris.’

Juliette was slightly irritated as she stepped back to allow the young guy inside with the box. As Juliette was a VIP customer of the store, her books were always delivered by Suzanne personally. She felt that Suzanne should have called to let her know. As she led Chris down the hall, past her bedroom to the living room so that he could set the box down on her coffee table, Juliette flushed, thinking about the dreams she had been reliving, mere minutes earlier, as she had lain in her bed. She hoped he couldn’t somehow tell, just by the look on her face.

Juliette ordered at least ten, sometimes fifteen, new novels every month. She devoured them hungrily most nights. Reading was her other guilty pleasure – she found it just as consuming as baking. Back when Danny was still alive, he had been invited to Pages & Chapters several times to do book signings or give readings. That, combined with the fact that Juliette ordered such a high volume of books each month, was why she was considered such a special customer. But perhaps the fact that she had been systematically cutting out her contacts, avoiding any conversation beyond polite chit-chat, meant that even Suzanne was going to stop giving her the exclusive treatment she had come to expect.

‘Here’s your statement,’ said Chris, straightening up from the coffee table. He handed her an envelope and she saw his eyes dip towards her low-cut nightie, which was showing as her kimono had begun to gape.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and when his eyes continued to stay fixed on her chest, she coughed awkwardly. ‘Ah Chris, was there anything else?’ she asked.

Chris’s eyes flew up and he looked embarrassed as he realised he’d been caught out. ‘No, no, I mean, nothing, I mean, I was just …’

‘You were just admiring my authentic Japanese kimono?’ Juliette offered kindly.

‘Yes!’ Chris jumped on the lifeline she had given him.

‘Right,’ she replied, shaking her head with a laugh, surprised to notice how nice it felt to joke with someone, to chat and smile. ‘Come on, I’ll show you out,’ she added and led the way back down the hall. As she approached the door, she couldn’t help but feel a little pleased about the extra attention; Chris was young and attractive. She knew she ought to feel objectified, perhaps offended – but it was sort of flattering as well. A brief image of her grabbing Chris by the shirt front and pulling him into her bedroom flashed through her mind.

Instantly, the smell of Danny’s aftershave filled her nostrils.

Juliette threw an arm out to stop Chris before he could leave.

‘Chris, are you wearing any aftershave?’ she asked.

‘Uh, no,’ he replied, an uncertain look on his face. He was obviously taken by surprise at the sudden physical contact.

‘Can you smell anything?’ she asked then, frowning as she stood still, trying hard to figure out where the scent was emanating from.

Chris hesitated, sniffing the air. ‘Maybe … sort of,’ he said. ‘Is everything alright?’ he added and Juliette realised that she was still grasping his upper arm.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, dropping her hand. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Juliette closed the door behind Chris and leant her back against it. There was definitely something strange going on. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. It was still there, and it was getting stronger. Suddenly, she felt pressure on both of her upper arms, as though two hands were pressed against them, pinning her to the door. Fear rose up in her chest and she kept her eyes firmly shut, afraid to open them and see someone standing in front of her – or maybe it was the opposite, perhaps she was afraid that if she opened her eyes, she would see no one at all and the spell would be broken.

She stayed still, concentrating hard on the sensation on her arms, and as she waited, she felt the pressure begin to move. It slid down her biceps, as though two hands were gently stroking her. And then she felt the touch of gentle fingers, they laced through her own and her hands began to tremble with nerves. She couldn’t stand it any longer, she opened her eyes – and instantly the feeling vanished.

She pushed herself away from the door, becoming aware as she did so of just how quickly she was breathing. She stumbled back down the hall on shaking legs and turned into her bedroom, where she collapsed onto her bed. She lay still, just breathing in and out, gathering her thoughts. This time she wasn’t going to be able to dismiss the sensation as part of her overactive imagination. For one thing, Chris had been able to smell the aftershave too, hadn’t he? And then those hands, they had felt so real, as though she could have closed her own fingers over them.