One Night (19 page)

‘You know exactly what I mean. I
wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last man on earth.’

The expression on his face changed.
‘Shannon and I are coming to an end, you know. There’s no need for all this
self-righteous concern. It’ll be fine. I promise. I just want some time to talk
to you, Casey. I admire you very much.’

I felt off-balance. A thought
bloomed. ‘Did you phone my office?’

‘Your office? No, I would never do
that.’

He was looking at me curiously, as
though he expected me to say something else. When I didn’t, his expression was
a little disappointed.

To my relief, he stepped away. ‘You
lock your door now.’ He turned at the top of the stairs. ‘I’ll hang around downstairs
for a while just to check for lurkers.’

‘There’s no need.’

Over his shoulder he shot, ‘Adios.’
He went down the stairs without a backward glance.

I pushed the door shut. For a
moment I stood with my forehead against the smooth wood. My heart seemed to be
somewhere it shouldn’t. My mind was stuck on an imagined scenario of violence
and attack. I felt as though his hands had been on me, and yet – apart from
pushing me into the building – he hadn’t made a move to touch me. Everything
was laced with apprehension bigger than the facts. Was it me? Was my mind
slipping? Was I more a product of what had happened in Witch’s Wood than I
cared to admit?

And yet something didn’t seem
right. Like a crazy puzzle. All the pieces were there but making an odd-angled
picture. Sharp-edged, ugly.

I moved at last and went to put my
bag down. Sticky jumped off the couch.

‘Oh, Sticky boy! I know you want a
walk but it’s too late now.’

There was no way I was going out
again in that road. He would have to be satisfied with a stroll around the
central yard with its dreary little garden and the washing lines. I tidied the
morning’s mess, and put a packet of bath salts on the edge of the bath ready
for a hot soak, then grabbed Sticky’s lead and headed out of the front door to
the lift. The last thing I wanted was to leave the flat but it was only fair
that Sticky should get out. I timed twenty minutes.

The lift opened on the ground
floor. There was no sign of Todd. I moved swiftly down the back corridor behind
the lifts to the door to the inner yard. On the further side was a patch of
lawn and a bench flanked by two pot plants. A bed with half-dead geraniums,
marigolds and a valiant attempt at ferns, ran along the length of one wall
under the windows of the back bedrooms of the flats on the opposite side of the
block. Across the yard some washing hung limp and forgotten along one line.

I sat on the bench while Sticky
began a meticulous inspection of the lawn. A lone security light glared down.
For a moment in the strange light and silence I imagined myself back in the
forest. It made me shiver. I had gone there, miles from anywhere, utterly alone
– and thought nothing of it. Now the memory was steeped in awe at my stupidity,
the wasted moment when I could have called Stephen. Regret – that old and
trusty companion of sad people – came to sit beside me.

Sticky pottered off to the bed of tangled
vegetation against the wall behind the bench. I looked up at the patch of sky
framed by the quadrangle of the building. One lone star pricked through the
navy-grey gloom as a reminder there was a night sky at all. I drew my gaze down
again and looked across to the window on the opposite side which looked through
to the foyer. A movement caught my eye. It looked as though someone had just
come through the glass doors. I couldn’t see the person, just a shadow and the glass
door swinging.

I shifted, and looked for Sticky.
Nothing wrong with somebody coming into the foyer – it was a big block after
all…I forced myself to calm down and wait another few minutes. Then it was
enough.

‘Sticky! Come, boy!’

Sticky obediently pulled his nose
out of the semi-dead flower bed, added one last christening action on a
particularly unruly fern, and trotted over. I hooked his lead and we went back
to the lift. I had my keys ready in my hand. We scooted across to my door. I
looked down the passage towards the fire stairs: nothing but a cold line of
empty corridor. I inserted my key into the lock.

As I opened the door I knew something was wrong. I held Sticky’s lead, not
letting go, not letting the door close either. I stared.

My curtains were closed. I knew I
had left them open. Three lamps were burning. I had left only one light on. On
the table in front of me lay my little packet of pink bath salts I had left on
the side of the bath.

Someone had been in my flat.

Rooted with fright, I stood in the
open doorway, my mind working around how anyone could have gained access. I
knew there was a concierge with spare keys to all the flats – but if there had
been an emergency, he would hardly have interfered with my things…

And besides, I had only been gone twenty
minutes. I would have seen or heard any kind of emergency. I stood indecisive,
frozen. Should I search? Should I run?

Sticky gave me an impatient look
and tried to head for the couch. I looked at him. He was making no indication
there was an intruder. He wanted supper and a snooze. I leant forward,
unclipped his lead. He podged his way happily across the room. I listened.
Beyond the thump of my heart there was nothing. Had Todd been back? Had he done
this? How had he managed to get in? Had he watched me leave and taken the
opportunity to play games with me?

I stepped out into the corridor.
Nothing. No one.

I went back inside and closed my
door. I had a Yale and a deadbolt lock. Nobody could get through that.
Yet…someone had been here. Someone who had done no more than close my curtains
and switch on the lamps and set out some bath salts. How would this go down
with DI Cartwright? He would doubt my coherence. And quite frankly, so would I.
Had I done these things and just forgotten? I’d read somewhere that stress
could affect your memory. Was I going mad?

I went to the kitchen area and
fetched a knife. My flat was an open plan living and kitchen area with a
bedroom en suite. That was it. Nowhere much for anyone to hide.

Moving like an old person, I
checked the bedroom and the bathroom. Opened cupboards violently. Nothing.
Whoever had done this had gone.

I sat on the bed feeling as though
my legs had lost power.

Had Todd done this? What would be
the point? To frighten me? Yes, maybe. He seemed confused between attraction
and control. Fright was probably his intent. But how had he gotten in?

I got up, put the knife back in the
kitchen, checked both locks, and slipped the chain – not something I usually
bothered to do. I gave Sticky some supper and freshened his water bowl. Moving
woodenly, I went to have my bath, locking the door – another thing I never
bothered to do. Wrapped in a warm robe, I made a cup of tea. Feeling thick with
exhaustion, I went to bed, leaving one lamp burning in the living area.
Darkness could make figures out of every shadow, threat in the simple line of washing
on a chair.

The brain has a safety valve for
too much anxiety. I went to sleep.

Nightmare has a strange power. It draws impossible scenarios and makes them
seem imminent and everyday – so close you are awakened by the power of your own
heartbeat. My dream was a jangle of missed phone calls. Mona was clearly before
me, shouting, urging me to hurry. She ran ahead of me in the woods to show me
something. I couldn’t quite see what it was. It was there just in front of me
and I had to find it otherwise the shadow that was rising in the dark would
overwhelm everything. And then in a second I was no longer following Mona but
running alone, trees flashing past. A dead dog floated, teeth bared. Then I was
in my car, trying to start the engine which would not turn, jumping out to see
my slashed tyres – and a shape coming at me from the bushes…

My heart jumped in my chest with
the power of an electric bolt. I sat up. My breathing was ragged, loud in the
silence. The light still burned in the living room. Sticky was a prone lump of
fur on his blanket. Outside a car hummed down the road, headlights tracing my
curtains. Then the night settled back to silence and shadow. I glanced at my clock:
4:03am. It was hours till daylight.

I slid from the bed, went to the
window and looked out, wondering if I would see the skulking figure of Todd
Pennington. The road was empty, black and lumpy with cars, tarmac shiny with a
slight splash of rain. Lightless windows on the opposite side looked back at
me, dark and soulless.

I fetched my robe, made tea. I
would stay awake now. Sleep was impossible. Nightmare had taken me back to the
forest, to all those crazy flashes of fright and flight.

And I had remembered something.

I had remembered who had keys to my
flat.

Brent Sedgeworth had taken my car
keys out of my bag in the cottage – keys which had my two front door keys
attached. When I’d left hospital I’d gone home to my mother to recuperate. She
was the only person with spare keys and I’d given them to the police to inspect
my car. They had contracted someone to replace the tyres and returned the car
to me, plus the keys. The missing keys had slipped away in my mind – a mind that
was beginning to tire from too much memory, too much detail and questioning.

Brent Sedgeworth, if he still
possessed them, had the keys to my front door.

First light I showered, dressed, called an emergency locksmith. He said he
would take about two hours to get there. I waited. Sticky was restless but I
wouldn’t leave the flat until the locks were changed and I had new keys in my
hand. I sat at the window, looking out for him, drinking too many cups of
coffee, watching the street bustle into life. An elderly gentleman walked by with
an equally elderly dog. The cat of last night sat atop a postbox and watched
them go by. The two young men and the open-bonnet car were back in action
again. A woman in curlers came out of her house across the way. She threw something
into her neighbour’s garden and then retreated. I couldn’t see what it was –
just a white packet of sorts – but I figured if one watched long enough, things
might get interesting.

My cell rang. My mother.

‘Just called to find out if you’re
all right.’

‘Thanks, mum, I’m fine.’ I felt odd
as I said this – not because of the lie, that was automatic, but because the
words made my world feel flimsy and unreal.

‘I was going to do some shopping
this afternoon and maybe have a cup of coffee somewhere. Thought you might like
to join me.’

‘If I can, I’ll give you a call.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing’s the matter.’

‘You sound odd. What’s happened?’

‘Nothing’s happened. I’m waiting
for the concierge because the showerhead isn’t working properly.’ The lie slid
across my tongue.

‘Well, all right then. But if
you’re not doing anything tonight, pop round for supper. I’m doing paella.’

‘Sounds great.’ There was a
scuffling noise. I could hear she was doing something else while talking to me.
‘Mum?’

‘Yes?’

‘Did you ask Todd Pennington to
keep an eye on me?’

Sudden stillness. I knew she was
accessing the need for defense.

‘Not exactly,’ she said eventually.

‘What
exactly
then, did you
say to him?’

‘I simply said as they were leaving
that I wished you still had Stephen in your life to look after you.’ She
stopped.

‘And?’

‘And Todd said he could pop around
from time to time to see how you are.’

‘And you said?’

Umbrage crept in at last. ‘I said
that wasn’t necessary. I couldn’t expect him to take on the responsibility of
looking after you.’

Pause.

‘And he said?’

‘I don’t like your tone.’

‘It’s important, mum. What did he
say?’

‘He said – he
said
it was
all our responsibility to look after you after what had happened to Mona. And
Shannon agreed. She said it would be no trouble for him to keep an eye out from
time to time, especially if you needed any help with anything. Of course, I
thanked them both and said I would be very grateful for any support. I think
that was the right thing to say, don’t you? What else was I supposed to say?’

I was shaking with annoyance. How
had this ridiculous situation come about? Was it me? Was I nuts and all this
perfectly natural? Was it? And yet at every opportunity Todd Pennington tried
to make a pass at me. Who could I tell? What if he denied it and made a fool of
me? What if I was just overreacting? Todd liked me. He wanted to break with
Shannon. These were normal things. Nothing sinister. And yet…there was
something else at play with Todd Pennington – something only I could sense as sly
and underhand. It was as though that one night in the woods had made me view
the world differently, sensitized me to malevolence. It was like a scent on the
man.

‘That’s all right,’ I managed. ‘It’s
kind of them to care.’

‘Of course, they care. They’re your
friends.’

‘Yes, they are. And I’m glad of
them, mum. Really.’

‘Yes, well – ’ she sniffed, mollified
‘ – hope to see you later.’

I put down the phone. Made more
tea. Sat by the window. And quietly fumed.

My cell phone rang. I balanced my tea in one hand and pressed a button. There
was a soft, breathy sound that made me hesitate.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello, baby shoes.’

The tea slid in my hand. ‘You fuck
off!’ I whispered.

Brent Sedgeworth chuckled. ‘You
like your nice little flat when you got back?’

‘So it
was
you!’ I blurted,
almost in relief. ‘How
dare
you! I’m going to report you to the police!’

‘For what now? For making your flat
nice and cozy? Come now, little Casey. I have the best intentions, you know.’