Chapter Forty-One
I’m pinned to the sofa, my legs dead and useless. I try to lift up from my hips but there’s no strength below my waist. It’s a mass of paralysis, with added pins and needles. When I open my eyes, there’s a familiar sight.
‘C’mon, Bill,’ I say. ‘Let me up.’
Billy opens a single eye and groans slightly. There’s a sliver of slobber around his lips and his eyelids flutter sleepily. He’s comfy and the fact he’s laid across the entirety of my lower half is seemingly a problem for me, not him. I don’t remember falling asleep, something emphasised by the jabbing jolts of pain in my neck. I’ve slept with my head twisted at an L-angle to the rest of my body. The curtains are open and light floods across the apartment, but it’s only when I spot the chair wedged under the front door handle that I remember what happened last night. Now, even more than then, it feels like a figment of my imagination. Could I have somehow imagined it all?
I push myself up, sliding my legs out from underneath Billy’s frame. He rolls over and once again shoots me his best betrayed look. The pins and needles start to fade as I knead my fists into my thighs and twitch my toes. My initial few steps are unsteady, a baby duckling waddling onto shore for the first time, but the feeling is almost back as I get to the front door. I remove the chair and then open the door to stare into the corridor. The door to the apartment opposite is still slightly agape, a reminder of what was and what’s gone.
This time I do call Lauren, who answers with a brusque, ‘Yes?’
‘It’s Lucy,’ I tell her. ‘From Hamilton House.’
‘Oh. You know it’s Saturday…?’
I have to resist answering with sarcasm that, yes, I do understand the concept of a seven-day week.
‘It’s Jade’s old flat,’ I say.
‘What about it?’
‘The door’s open. I couldn’t help but seeing inside – and it looks like it’s been cleared out. I think whoever was there has gone.’
Lauren sighs: ‘Are you sure?’
‘They might have invisible furniture, I suppose…’
‘At least he paid to the end of the year.’ Another sigh: ‘All right. I’ll be over later. Can you close the door?’
I step into the hallway and the floor creaks gently underneath my foot. ‘Can you tell me who lived there?’ I ask.
‘We did talk about this. I can go—’
‘Was it someone called Peter?’
There’s a pause that’s long enough to serve as confirmation.
‘I’ll be over later,’ Lauren says, more firmly this time. ‘Is there anything else?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Lauren says goodbye and then hangs up. It’s only as my phone flashes back to the main screen that I realise the time. I have a job interview in exactly an hour.
There’s a part of me that can’t quite comprehend going to it given everything that’s happened in the past twelve hours or so. It feels like such a normal thing in a world that’s now abnormal. I’m not sure what the alternative is, though. There might be a link from Lauren to Ben – or Peter as he calls himself. I could tell the police and let them look into it, but, for now, if I miss that interview then I’m not sure where it leaves me. If Ben has gone for good, or even if he hasn’t, I still have a life to lead.
I blink away thoughts of Jade and what happened to her. It’s selfish, I know, but it isn’t like I’m forgetting her for good. I pull the door to her old apartment closed and then rush back into my flat for a shower.
Fifteen minutes later and I’m almost ready to go – with one small problem.
I hurry down the hall to Karen’s, partly to check that she’s still sentient. The last time I saw her, she was swaying from side to side and slurring. She answers moments after I knock and, to great surprise, is wearing yoga leggings, a vest and her running shoes.
‘I know!’ she says as I goggle at her.
‘I was checking you were all right,’ I say. ‘I didn’t expect you to be in anything other than a dressing gown at best.’
‘It’s a miracle. I drank so much, I thought I’d be hung-over until the kids are back tomorrow night – but I’ve defied science. I’m a medical marvel. I’m going to Parkrun in a bit.’
‘Could you take Billy? I’ve got my interview and—’
‘Of course. Drop him round. He’s going to have to run a bit slower with me, though.’
Karen is on her way out but waits in the corridor for a couple of minutes as I collect Billy and check I have everything I need. The fact it’s all such a rush is probably a good thing because I’ve not had time to be nervous about the interview itself. There are bigger things clouding my mind.
Billy doesn’t seem to mind and happily trots down the stairs at Karen’s side. It’s hard to know who’s the traitor – me for abandoning him, or him for dutifully ambling along with somebody else.
When we get outside, Karen heads towards the park, or, more to the point, Billy sets off towards the park with Karen in tow. She laughs a cheery ‘good luck’ and then she’s off around the corner of the building. I head the other way to the community centre and the bus stop beyond. The last time I walked this way, I was in the middle of the road in the dark, nervously checking the shadows in case Ben had stayed around. It feels different now. Leaves are billowing along the gutters as a pair of lads in football kit walk along the other side of the road. One has a ball under his arm and both have string bags on their backs. There’s nobody else in sight, including at the deserted bus stop.
It’s hard to stop my mind wandering as I wait. I want to think about the interview, how I don’t have a job and that I need this. Ben’s money is upstairs in my flat, but the allure has gone. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to spend it. Jade’s face keeps eclipsing everything else. As mad as I’ll sound, I need to tell the police that I saw Ben and that he’s calling himself Peter. They can check with Lauren and, if there’s a paper trail, they could find him.
The bus chugs into the stop with a guff of noxious air and the doors fizz open. I flash my pass to the driver, who barely looks at it before nodding and punching a button to close the door behind me. The bus is probably half full, with almost everyone staring at their phones. I move along the aisle, but the driver sets off before I sit and I stumble into an empty pair of seats largely by default. The CCTV dome is a row ahead of me and I can’t believe I never noticed it. I stare at it now, thinking of the person on the other side who might have to wade through the footage if a nutter like me phones up.
My thoughts slip to barely a week ago when it all started on this bus. I was standing a couple of metres from where I am now when that envelope of money dropped into my bag and everything changed. Or, to some degree, nothing changed. I’m still paying off somebody else’s debts and living pay packet to pay packet. Everything’s different except nothing is. I might spend the rest of my life wondering if Ben – or Peter – will return. Or, perhaps the memory of last night will dim and I’ll be left questioning whether it happened at all.
The bus pulls in at the next stop and a couple bluster their way along the aisle from behind me to get off. A small queue of people replaces them. Some head past me along the aisle; others risk the disabled seats at the front, hoping nobody with a wheelchair gets on.
I check the address of the office for my interview on my phone and then try to give myself a pep talk. Be confident, be yourself; all that. It’s all fine as long as they’re looking for someone like me.