‘No—’
‘All those things you wanted. The stables, the house—’
‘It wasn’t me who wanted them. I could’ve had a small wedding. I didn’t need the big house. You wanted those.’
A shrug: ‘Right, but we can both have them now…’
We’re off the padded matting now, onto the grass. I risk a glance backwards to the hall, but, when I turn back, Ben is another step closer.
‘No,’ I say.
He stops, frozen half in shadow. I can only see the right side of his face, but there’s puzzlement there. ‘What do you mean no?’
I try to sound bold and assertive even though I feel the opposite. ‘I don’t want this. If you’re alive, then good for you. Go and enjoy your life as Peter. Tell your mum or don’t tell her. I don’t want any part of it. I’m my own person and I have a life. You’re not in it.’
It’s hard not to stumble with my next step backwards. There’s a hidden ridge in the grass and I panic that Ben is going to launch himself forward as I try to right myself. He doesn’t though. He’s still. I take more steps away from him until there’s a gap of ten metres or more and I can barely see him among the shadows. He hasn’t moved. I almost stop to ask if he’s okay.
Almost.
But I don’t. I turn and run until I’m at the back of the hall once more. Lights are still spinning; music is playing. It’s Kylie again: one of the oldies from her Neighbours days. Warmth seeps out from the inside, catching in my lungs. I’m out of breath and my mouth is dry. It’s only when I step into the hall that the horrifying, haunting thought hits me.
I turn back to the park, but there’s no figure there any longer. No sign that Ben was ever there at all. It’s hard not to wonder, though. If he did all this, then what wouldn’t he do?
And what happened to Jade?
Chapter Forty
I drift across to the speakers near the stage, where the MP3 player has been unplugged and is sitting on top of the small table. Karen’s phone has become dominant once more. Kylie becomes Jason and all our youthful pasts flood back in a blur of dodgy perms and lunchtimes skiving off school to watch Neighbours. I check that nobody’s paying me any attention and then grab the music player and stuff it into a pocket, almost to prove that this happened.
When I turn around, Billy is there, watching me with his ears pricked, as if waiting to hear what I have to say for myself. I crouch and rub his back, but this is insufficient as he turns and mooches back towards the other dogs in the corner.
I have no idea what to do.
If I called the police, what would I say? That my dead boyfriend is back? He assaulted someone with whom I’d been on a date, poisoned my dog and might have killed the person who lived opposite me? All I know about his life now is that he’s called Peter. He could disappear back to wherever he was before with no proof he was ever here. I’d sound like a madwoman.
I head back towards the doors and stare out to the green and the darkened play park. Seeing Ben already feels like something of a dream. A shadowy figure on a shadowy child’s swing at a time of year that’s known for ghosts and ghouls.
Someone I don’t recognise nudges past me with an apology. People are starting to leave the party, which means a series of lengthy goodbyes. There are hugs, handshakes, air-kisses and actual kisses, accompanied by empty platitudes like, ‘I’ll call’, or ‘I’ll be in touch’. When it comes to any social gathering, nobody can ever just leave. I’ve had shorter sleeps than some people spend saying goodbye to one another.
I’m still staring out towards the park when a hand touches my shoulder. I jump and spin around, expecting the worst – but it’s Karen. She doesn’t seem to notice my alarm, largely because she’s swaying slightly from side to side.
‘What happened with the music?’ I ask.
‘Someone playing around,’ she replies.
‘I think I’m going to leave. I’ve got an interview tomorrow morning and—’
‘You have an interview?’
‘Didn’t I say? It’s at an office close to Crosstown? It’s only filing and that sort of stuff, but I want to make sure I get a good sleep. It’s—’
Karen lunges at me, wrapping both arms around my back and stroking my hair. ‘Oh, honey. I’m so happy for you…’
I tap her gently on the back, unsure how to respond. At least in part, it’s drunk talk. Karen is slurring her words as she presses hard into the crook of my neck.
‘You deserve this,’ she says.
It takes me a few seconds to extricate myself and then it’s our turn for the lengthy goodbye. I promise to let Karen know how the interview goes and she says I’ll have to come over for dinner soon. After that, I put Billy back on his lead and tug him away from his new friends. There are more goodbyes – mainly from me – and then I’m finally outside, on the way home.
It’s a short walk, but I spend the whole time peering into the shadows. As if trying to give me a heart attack, a cat jumps from a wall, landing with elegant ease on the pavement in front of us. Billy’s ears prick up, but he’s too tired to go chasing tonight. The cat stands and watches, almost daring us on. It’s nothing to worry about and yet I still walk in the middle of the road for the short distance back. It’s where there’s more light; where I am furthest from the bleakness of the overgrown bushes and the high walls behind which anyone could be hiding. It’s late, but I want to call Lauren to tell her that I know who’s living opposite. That she’s rented the apartment to a fraud. It’s only the fact I’m sober that stops me.
After getting into Hamilton House, I find myself edging up the stairs, expecting a surprise around every corner. There’s no one there; nobody in the hall outside my door.
Jade’s door is unlocked and slightly open. There’s silence as I wait in the corridor and only darkness within. I knock hard on the door frame and then, when there’s no reply, push the door open with my foot?
‘Hello? Ben?’
There’s still no reply, so I poke my head inside and flick on the light, only to see that there’s nothing inside, except for the sofa and small table. The ethernet cable has disappeared from the back of the room and the cupboard door in which I found Melanie’s coat is open. The apartment feels different than it did when I was last here. It felt occupied then, even though there was so little furniture. Now, there’s an emptiness to the air and it feels abandoned.
I exit back to the corridor and leave the door as I found it. After getting into my own apartment, I close the door and lock it; then carry a chair across the room and wedge it underneath the handle.
Billy is already in his bed, head down, ready to sleep. It’s past his bedtime and he’s had a busy day. I don’t pull out the bed, instead sitting on the sofa and huddling under a blanket. It doesn’t feel as if I’ll be able to sleep. Sometimes I might have the television on for background noise – but not this evening. I close my eyes and strain to listen for any sounds from the corridor.
It’s hard to explain, but I feel like I’ve lost something, even though the opposite is true. Perhaps it’s that I no longer have the sense of security I once had? Or that there are certain things in life that can be taken for granted? The sky is blue and the night is dark – but I’m not sure what to believe any longer. Absolutes are no longer absolute.
I lay my head on the armrest and open my eyes to watch Billy. He’s on his side, head tucked underneath his paw. His ribs are rising and falling in steady rhythm and I wish his innocence was mine. I won’t sleep tonight. I know I won’t.