With reluctance, his own annoyance tempered by serious worry about her state of mind, he got into the car. He’d no sooner slammed the passenger door than she threw the Kia into gear and took off, accelerating harshly away up Main Street.
‘Now will you tell me what’s going on?’ he asked over the noise of the car. ‘What is it you want me to witness, Mandy?’
Silence. Tight-lipped, she sped on towards the outskirts of the village.
‘Why won’t you answer me? And please slow down. You’re driving too fast.’
‘We’re going to that old bitch Bannister’s place.’
‘What on earth for?’
‘To challenge her. To have it out with her. And I want you to be there. Then you’ll know I’m not crazy, Todd.’
‘I never said anything about you being crazy!’ He could no longer hide the anger in his voice.
‘You don’t need to,’ she said, glancing sideways at him. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’
Mandy tore out of Fairwood and on through the winding country lanes, bypassing Summer Cottage. Soon afterwards, she was braking to a screeching halt outside the small, ivy-fronted house where her neighbour lived. ‘Here we are,’ she fumed, jerking the handbrake and throwing open her door. ‘Now for some truth.’
‘What truth?’ he asked, but she was already out of the car and marching towards Mrs Bannister’s gate. All Todd could do was follow her, thoroughly confused. Mandy thumped on the front door. Turning the handle and finding it open, she pushed her way inside. ‘Mandy, please!’ Todd called helplessly in her wake.
Mandy walked right into Mrs Bannister’s low-beamed living room. The old woman was sitting in a flowery armchair with one foot propped up on a stool, turning to stare in wide-eyed bewilderment as first one, then two unexpected visitors suddenly appeared in her home. There was a blanket laid over her legs. A glass of pale sherry on a little table next to her. A soap opera was blaring on the TV. Cats lay everywhere, stretched out on the rug, draped over the back of the sofa and the windowsill. One or two of them looked up lazily at the intruders.
Mandy marched straight over to the television, switched it off and turned to face Mrs Bannister. ‘Right, you old bag. Where did you get it? Did Ellen give it to you? Whatever. Just give it back to me. I know what’s going on and I’ve had enough of your bloody games!’
‘Mandy—’ Todd began.
‘You’re my witness here,’ she snapped at him. ‘Just listen, okay?’
‘G-give what back?’ Mrs Bannister asked, staring wildly at Mandy.
‘The key to Summer Cottage. The key you’re using to let yourself into my place to try to scare me. What are you doing it for? Why?’
Todd couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
‘You were there this evening, weren’t you?’ Mandy raged at the old woman. ‘I know it was you I saw at the window. By the time I got back to the cottage, you’d slipped out. And this afternoon, too, sneaking around the bedroom and banging doors downstairs. Just like you were banging on my bedroom door last night. Switching lights on and off like a maniac. I’m warning you. Stay away from me and my house or else—’
‘Mandy, please!’ Todd yelled.
She turned to him, her face contorted with anger. ‘It’s true, Todd. I know it’s her, even if I didn’t get a good look. Who else could it be? I wouldn’t be surprised if she even let that cat in there on purpose, to scare me!’
‘But why would she do that?’
‘I think I know the answer to that one,’ Mandy seethed, turning back to stand threateningly over the old woman, who was shrinking into her armchair. ‘She knew Ellen Grace, they were friends and she’s got it into her twisted old head that she resents me for being at Summer Cottage. That’s right, isn’t it? You think you can scare me into leaving. Answer me, you b—’
Mandy broke off mid-word as another woman suddenly appeared from a doorway on the far side of the room. She had shoulder-length fair hair and bore a faint resemblance to Mrs Bannister, but was at least thirty-five years younger.
Todd thought she looked vaguely familiar. Hadn’t he seen her somewhere before?
Glowering at the two of them, the woman strode into the room with her fists clenched. ‘Who are you to talk to my aunt that way?’ she shouted. ‘How dare you come bursting in like this? Get out of here!’
‘Or what, you’ll call the police? Let’s do that, shall we?’ Mandy retorted furiously. ‘They’ll know how to deal with a loony old stalker!’
‘I am the police,’ the woman said.
‘Oh, shit,’ Todd breathed. Now he remembered where he’d seen the woman before: driving around Fairwood in a patrol car. She looked different out of uniform, with her hair loose.
‘WPC Mitchell to you. And if you don’t withdraw these accusations and leave right now, you’ll be facing much more serious charges yourself.’ Stepping over to Mrs Bannister’s armchair, the policewoman grasped the blanket draped over her legs and drew it away.
‘Jesus,’ Mandy groaned, suddenly crestfallen.
Mrs Bannister’s lower right leg was enveloped in a thick plaster cast that encased her shin all the way down to the foot resting on the stool. Her wrinkled bare toes stuck pinkly out from the end of the cast.
‘She hasn’t been anywhere for two days,’ said her niece. ‘Broken ankle. She can’t even get upstairs to her own bed, never mind walk all the way down the lane to your house. I’m off work to look after her, and I’ve been with her nearly the whole time. So you’ — jabbing a finger at Mandy — ‘had better put a sock in it before I arrest you for disturbing the peace, threatening behaviour and harassment of a sick, elderly, vulnerable member of the community. Get me?’
It was a painful, mortifying few minutes before Mandy and Todd finally extricated themselves from Mrs Bannister’s house and walked back out into the chill air. The night was clearing to give way to a bright, clearly crater-pocked gibbous moon. The silhouetted figure of WPC Mitchell glared at them from the doorway until they were off the property, and then slammed the door.
‘Don’t say it, Todd, please,’ Mandy muttered.
‘I tried to stop you,’ he said.
‘I know you did.’
‘What the hell’s got into you?’
‘Something’s happening, Todd. If it wasn’t her, then what? You tell me. What?’
Todd’s throat was tight with emotion. ‘I’m sorry, Mandy, I can’t do this any more.’
She saw his expression and looked at him with pleading eyes, brimming with tears. His own eyes were moist. ‘I really like you,’ he blurted. ‘I think I even love you, all right? But we need to be apart until you get yourself sorted out. I’m sorry. I’m just very fucking sorry it had to be like this.’
‘Todd!’
‘Bye, Mandy,’ he said in a strangled voice. And he turned away from her and walked off into the night.
THIRTEEN
Mandy cried herself to sleep that night, pulling the bedclothes tightly around her for comfort. She didn’t want to be going mad, yet she felt as if her mind was being torn apart. She didn’t want to be alone, yet now Todd had left her and she might never see him again.
The moonlight glowed softly through the drawn curtains, growing now dimmer, now brighter as clouds drifted across its face. The cottage seemed alive with a thousand tiny creaks and taps.
Finally asleep with her face pressed to the tear-dampened pillow, Mandy’s breathing was slow and steady. It wasn’t until the depths of the night that she half-awoke, stiff from lying for hours in the same position, and stirred in the bed. As she moved her leg, her bare foot touched something. The sensation of flesh on flesh woke her with a start. She raised her head from the pillow and twisted round.