“I wish I could, but I’ve got work in the morning.”
I peer through the window. It’s already getting dark outside.
“Well, take care, then.” Holly says. “It was lovely to meet you.”
“You too. You’d better hang on to this one,” I whisper to Julio, as I hug him goodbye.
The roads are eerily empty on the way home. There is nothing but a series of cat’s eyes that stretch out in front of me in the darkness. I turn on the radio for company but I can’t help feeling that something isn’t quite right. There are hardly any cars on the road, yet the one behind me has been tailgating for a while now. I glance in my mirror, but I can’t make out the driver’s face. Are they watching me or the road?
Five minutes pass and then ten. The car is still right behind me, uncomfortably close. This isn’t right. I’m starting to get really freaked out.
I just have to make it to the next services. Then I’ll be safe.
It seems like forever before the knife and fork sign looms out of the darkness. I wait until the last possible moment to indicate, and then spin off to the left. For one, heart-stopping moment it seems like the white car is going to follow, and then the driver seems to change their mind. They swerve back onto the main road, and I heave a huge sigh of relief.
Feeling rather wobbly, I pump some petrol into my car and get a latte from the shop. But as I sit, sipping my drink at the counter, my uneasiness returns. It’s so dead out here that the few people who are around seem very sinister. I take a final gulp of my drink and toss the paper cup into the bin.
As the roads are so empty, I take a liberal interpretation of the speed limits for the rest of the drive home. At last, the lights of Queensbeach twinkle tantalizingly on the horizon. I wind down my window and gulp down big breaths of sea air.
I pull up outside my house and hurry up the path, not even bothering to get my overnight bag. I ram the key in the lock and throw open the door. I am about to switch on the lights on when I hear a creaking sound coming from upstairs.
“Fluffy?”
There is a loud thud. That’s no cat, I realise, my heart in my mouth. There’s someone in my house!
Chapter Ten
I freeze.
What should I do?
I stand stock-still and listen. Whoever it is has gone silent.
With shaking hands, I reach for my mobile, but something stops me before I hit the third 9. The police have not exactly been my friends lately. I’d better handle this on my own.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I shouldn’t go up there, I know I shouldn’t. And yet I have to. I creep into the kitchen and grab the largest knife I can find. I grip the handle tightly as I steal up the stairs, wincing at every creak.
I pause at the top of the stairs. A shaft of light spills out from under my bedroom door.
Someone’s in there.
I edge my way along the cold, dimly lit hallway, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Then I burst into the room, hoping to catch whoever it is by surprise. As I do so, the knife slips from my grasp and clatters loudly to the floor. I grab it quickly, scanning the room urgently with my eyes. The bed is made, the curtains drawn and the nightstand just as I left it. I throw open the wardrobe door and rifle frantically through the clothes. There is no one there.
I spin round, my eyes fixed on the bed. The duvet seems strangely lumpy. I whip back the covers. But it’s just my old teddy bear, Gerald.
This is ridiculous. What am I doing?
There is nowhere to hide under the bed or behind it. I must simply have left the light on. The wind rattles against the window and I notice my watering can lying on the floor. It must have fallen down off the shelf. That must have been the sound I heard. I stoop down to pick it up. And yet… as I stand there, berating myself for my own stupidity, I distinctly hear someone – or something – breathing.
My eyes dart from left to right.
There! There it is! That bulge behind the curtains. I can’t believe I didn’t spot it before.
My heart is in my mouth as I step forward and wrench them open.
An ear-splitting scream fills the room.
“ALICIA!”
“Isabel! You scared the life out of me!” She steps out of the shadows, looking the very picture of wide-eyed innocence.
“What are you doing in my house?” I demand, my shoulders trembling with fury.
“Kate asked me to feed Fluffy,” she says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She got stuck working an extra shift at the hospital.”
“So what are you doing up here?”
“She said your plants might need watering.”
She indicates the drooping plants on the window sill.
“So why were you hiding?”
“Me?” Alicia’s eyes grow wide. “Why were you creeping around like that? I thought you were a burglar!”
“Me too.”
She catches sight of my knife.
“Oh my god! What were you going to do, stab me?”
“I… I…”
But then she laughs her irritating Minnie Mouse laugh and I can see she’s not serious.
I smile weakly and accept surrender. She’s got me. Again.
My brain aches.
We traipse downstairs and I watch as she pulls on her boots. I hadn’t even noticed them, lined up by the front door.
“Well, Merry Christmas,” she smiles.
“You too,” I echo lamely. It’s really dark outside and I should probably offer her a lift but I just want her out of my house. Besides, there’s no way I’m getting in a car with her again. She lingers on the doorstep, as if expecting me to offer, but I just say good night and shut the door. I watch from the window as she skips off down the path. I wait until I’m sure she has gone, then I bolt the door behind her. Exhausted, I collapse into my favourite armchair. My poor, jangled nerves.
The phone shrills, making me jump. I ignore it. Let the answering machine pick it up.
“Isabel, it’s Holly. Just checking you got back all right?”
I make a grab for it. “Hi Holly, I just got in.”
“Everything OK? You sound a bit shaky.”
“Alicia was in my house!” I blurt out. “Kate gave her the key.”
“You’d better change your locks then. Tonight if possible.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t take any chances.”
I touch my throat. Oh god, she’s right. Alicia has a key to my house.
Why, oh why didn’t I ask for it back?
I think back to the expression on Alicia’s face when I caught her in my bedroom. It wasn’t fear, was it? It was pleasure. Just like the day she jumped out in front of my car. She’s getting a kick out of scaring me, the sick little freak.
And just in case you ever think of ringing a locksmith at eight PM on Christmas Day, don’t bother. Forty-five minutes later, the saucer I’ve been using as an ashtray is completely full and I’m no closer to getting the locks changed. What to do, what to do? I drift around the house, checking that every window is shut tight, then drag the coffee table over to the front door and wedge it up against the handle.
Ding-Dong!
At last!
I peer through the peephole. But it isn’t the locksmith.
“Deacon?”
“Who were you expecting? The Dalai Lama?”
“Yes, he always pops round for tea about this time. Just wait there a minute and I’ll let you in.”
I scramble about, pulling the coffee table back to its original position, and then I unbolt the door.
“What was all that about?” he asks as he strides inside. “Sounded like you were rearranging the furniture.”
“Er, yes – I was, but I decided it looks better the way it was.”