Fourteen Days (4 page)

As he turned to face the bedroom door, the sound of footsteps from outside the room made him freeze.

Listening intently, he waited for the sound to happen again. When it failed to return, he started to lie on his back. Just as his shoulder blades touched the soft mattress, the footsteps sounded again. His heart filled with terror as he clenched his fists. His initial thoughts—being a movie fan—were that the footsteps belonged to something supernatural. But then his rational mind took over, and the idea of a burglar seemed like the more logical explanation.

Creeping out of the bed, fists still clenched, he edged to the door. His heart raced as the handle came within inches of his grasp. He reached for the handle and carefully turned it. Just as the door was about to open, the bedroom suddenly came alive with light.

“What are you doing?”

He jumped in fright. “
Dammit!
” he shouted, staring at Nicky sitting up in bed. “I almost wet my pants!”

Chuckling, she asked, “Why are you sneaking ’round?”

Exhaling, trying to shake off his shock, he ran a hand over his face. “I thought I heard footsteps outside the door.” He opened the door to check and found the landing empty.

“It was probably just the rain outside. You’re a nervous wreck. Come back to bed. It’s late.”

Nodding, he closed the door, only to open it again to double check. “Thought it was a burglar.”

He climbed back into bed, huddling up close to her.

Sniggering, she turned to face him. “No, I bet you thought it was a ghost, didn’t you?”

He closed his eyes as he draped his arm over her side. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

R
ichard leaned against the kitchen worktop, waiting for the kettle to boil, contemplating whether or not to call Leah again. It had been three days since his last conversation. A quick chat to see how things were going wouldn’t do any harm.
Yeah, a quick chat. No more. Even just to say hi. She’s still a friend after all.
He reached for the phone and dialed the number for work. After a few seconds Leah answered. “Hi, Leah. It’s Richard. How’s—” But before he could finish she hung up the phone, leaving him with a piercing beeping sound in his ear.

“Bitch,” he said, shaking his head in astonishment.
Doesn’t she realize I’d be able to relax more knowing that everything is running smoothly? What’s wrong with her?
“Stubborn cow.”

Still frustrated, he took his coffee outside and sat on the patio. The sun was out again with no sign of rain. The heat felt good against his face as he leaned back on his plastic chair.

Sipping his coffee, he tried to block out thoughts of work. Instead, he focused on other things, like maybe taking Nicky away for the summer. Someplace warm—away from this house. He imagined lying on a nice deserted beach, drinking ice-cold beer, watching the blue sea crash against the rocks. He thought of Nicky beside him, her smiling face, her slender body, her deep blue eyes. And then a sudden feeling of sadness and guilt washed over him. They hadn’t been away on holiday since their honeymoon, almost three years ago.

How could I do that to her? After all she sacrificed to follow me to Bristol, leaving her family, friends, and job behind just so I could start a new job. How selfish is that! What’s wrong with me? No, it’s not selfish, it’s for our future. She knows that. Best to get some money behind us before we start a family. No point struggling. It’ll be worth it in the long run. And besides, I don’t plan to work there forever.

Staring at the wooden fence in front of him, he couldn’t shake off the remorse in his stomach, despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise.

He checked the time on his cell phone. 12:14 p.m.

Lunchtime.

Walking back into the house, he went straight to the freezer and pulled out a frozen lasagne, kicking the door shut as he walked through to the kitchen. He popped the ready-meal into the microwave and waited.
God, I miss my computer. I’d be
screwed on a desert island. Can’t cope with much more of this. Wonder where she’s hidden it. Probably not in the house. Maybe at her mum’s. Or at Julie’s
.

After the microwave pinged, he removed the piping hot container and scooped its contents onto a plate. Filling a glass of water from the tap, he carried both outside.

He tucked into his food, trying to read his book at the same time, still with work on his mind. Page after page failed to sink in, so he found himself repeating sections just to keep up with the storyline, even though it wasn’t a difficult piece of fiction. It was one of Nicky’s thrillers that she had gone on about for the past six months, almost forcing him at gunpoint to read.

He closed the book just a quarter of the way through and sighed. Yawning, he massaged his eyes with his palms. “God, it’s warm.” He pulled off his tee shirt and threw it onto one of the other patio chairs. Leaning back, he set his feet up on the table. After just thirty seconds, he dropped them back down to the concrete floor. He had the urge to urinate.

He made his way back inside the house carrying his empty glass and plate.

In the utility room, the freezer door was hanging wide open. He stopped for a moment and frowned, trying to recall whether or not he had already closed it from earlier. Unable to remember, he shrugged off the doubt and pushed the door shut with his heel. Listening to it shut, he continued on through to the kitchen.

Still hungry. Maybe I’ll fry up some chicken nuggets. And some chips. Could even have a beer. Why not? I’m meant to be relaxing after all. Doctor’s orders
.

As he entered the kitchen he saw a woman.

She was sitting on the far corner kitchen chair. Her dress was white, covered in stains, her face a mask of torture, and her brown, sweat-soaked hair in disarray.

“Fuck
me
!
” he screamed, dropping both the plate and the glass, smashing them. Shards scattered across the tiled floor.

And then she was gone.

Almost hyperventilating, his skin crawling with goosebumps, Richard held a trembling hand over his pounding heart. Was it just a trick of the eyes, a flash of light from something outside? Or had he just seen a ghost in his kitchen?
Impossible
, his rational mind said, as he tried to slow his racing heartbeat.
It was just the heat, and the boredom, and the light. Ghosts aren’t real. Don’t be so bloody stupid, Rich. What’s the matter with you
?

But she seemed so real. So vivid to him.

No. It was just his imagination. He was certain of that. He didn’t believe in ghosts. Not really anyway.

So why did the empty kitchen chair fill him with such dread?

Calming down, still undecided of what he saw, he got a small dustpan and brush from the cupboard underneath the sink, and began to clear the broken pieces off the floor. “
Jesus Christ
,” he muttered, still shaking as he gathered up the mess. “I’m losing it. I must be.”

He tipped the pieces into the bin and turned to look again at the table. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his brow, a combination of the heat and fright. He wiped it off with his wrist and shook his head, still not over the shock.
What’s wrong with me?
His eyes were still fixed on the chair.

Unable to think of anything other than the mysterious woman, he remained in the kitchen for several minutes—forgetting about the urge to urinate.

“I’ve tried dropping hints, but it’s no good,” Nicky said, sitting on the couch next to Richard. “Even Lucy’s started to notice.”

“Why doesn’t your boss say something to her?” Richard asked half-heartedly, his focus split between his wife’s office politics and the woman from his kitchen.

“Because everyone’s afraid of her. But
I
’m
not. I came so close to telling her today.”

“And what stopped you?” he asked, trying to throw the woman’s tortured face to the back of his mind.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not worth it—especially when your boss doesn’t back you up. It’s all right for you, you’re a manager—people listen to you. But no one gives a crap about what I say.”

“That’s not true,” he said, rubbing a sympathetic hand across her leg. “Everyone listens to you.”

Chuckling through her nostrils, she replied, “If only that were true.”

“Well,
I
care about what you have to say.”

Smirking, she turned to him. “Are you sure about that?”

“What d’ya mean?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Didn’t I ask you to do the dishes this morning?”

He bit his bottom lip like a naughty child. “Sorry, forgot.” He paused for a second, and then added, “Didn’t you tell me to take it easy?”

“I think you can manage a few dishes. Which reminds me: some of the spoons are missing from the cutlery drawer. Have you left any in work?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Well,
I
haven’t taken them. Are you sure you haven’t? They were a wedding present from your auntie and uncle.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “Of course I’m sure. Why would I take them to work? You’re the one who takes salads and cereal to work. I only eat sandwiches and junk food.”

She pondered for a moment. “That’s odd.”

Picking up the remote control, she pushed the standby button. The half-lit room became illuminated as the television powered up.

“Listen, I wasn’t going to say anything, but—” Richard said, his words laced with severity.

She turned to him with a concerned look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back his words, he exhaled as if to prepare. “Well, it’s just—”

“Hang on for a second.” She pushed the standby button again and the television died. “Go on—what’s up? It sounds serious.”

“This afternoon, I saw something. At least I think I did. I’m not sure.”

Intrigued, she leaned in close. “Saw what?”

“A woman. In our kitchen.”

“What, a burglar?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

“Then what?” she asked, grimacing.

He braced. “Well, I’m not saying it was a ghost, but…”

Moving away from him, his wife gave out a loud cry of laughter. “A ghost? Is there something wrong with you? How
old
are you?”

“Look, I said it
wasn’t
a ghost. I’m just saying I saw something, all right. Probably just my eyes playing tricks. That’s all.”

“And what did this woman look like?” she said, clearly humoring him. “Was she pretty? Or was she one of those zombie ghosts, all rotten with worms coming out of her face?

“Grow up, Nic!” he snapped. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“I’m teasing.
Come on
—tell me, what did she look like?”

He took a minute to answer, shaking his head as he stared at her. “She was mid-thirtyish, long brown hair. But I know she wasn’t real.”

“And what was she wearing?” she asked, trying to appear convinced.

“Why does that matter? She’s not even real.”

“Come on. Tell me what she was wearing.”

He sighed. “She had a white dress on. Like a summer dress. You know—loose-fitted. Like the ones
you
wear.”

Pondering for a moment, she put a hand on his leg. “You know what—come to think of it, one of my summer dresses
has
gone missing. I think the bitch must have pinched it.”

Fake-smiling, he removed her hand from his leg. “Very funny. Look, if you’re going to be like that, then…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, babe. I’m teasing you. Come on, I am interested. Really.”

“Look, I know it wasn’t a ghost, I don’t believe in them, but it was just weird. It gave me such a bloody fright. I even dropped my plate and glass.”

“Maybe it
was
a ghost.”

“Shut up, Nic. Don’t make fun.”

“Maybe we need someone to communicate with it.”

“Nic, you’re not funny.”

“I think I’ve got Whoopi Goldberg’s number somewhere.”

Richard sighed. “Don’t know why I tell you anything.”

“Don’t go in a mood,” she said, placing her hand on his leg again. “I’m only having a laugh. You saw something ’cause you’re bored out of your mind being stuck in the house all day. You’re not used to it. You’ve been working pretty much every day for the past three years, so I’m not surprised you’re having trouble adjusting. Give it a few more days and you’ll be back to your old self.”

“I haven’t been working
every
day.”

“Yes you have. Why do you think I got rid of the laptop?”

“That’s not just for work. We both use it.”

Nicky chuckled. “Yeah, right. If I can ever pry you away from it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, surfing the Internet on your days off is one thing, but you spend most of the time checking work stuff and finishing off reports. And e-mailing Leah.”

“That’s not true.” But he knew it was. And being cut off from his computer highlighted how much.

“Look, let’s not get into an argument now,” she said. “I’m sorry I brought it up and I’m sorry I teased you.”

He paused for a moment, and then placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry too. Let’s just—”

The room filled with the deafening sound of the TV, with the volume to its maximum. They both jumped up in fright, covering their ears to block out the piercing noise.

“Turn it down!” he called out.

Grabbing the remote, she frantically pushed the volume control button and the sound vanished.

“What the hell,” he said. “
That
was weird.”

“Yeah, that
was
weird.”

“You must have sat on the remote or something.”

“Yeah. Or the button wasn’t pushed in.”

Richard turned to Nicky and smirked. “You shit yourself then. I bet you thought it was a ghost. Didn’t you? Admit it.”