Fry (10 page)

“So what would you do, if you were me?” I ask.

“Well, first of all, I wouldn’t have let her give me an alibi!” she says sternly. “It’s not like they’ve got any real evidence against you, anyway. The CCTV images would have put you in the clear – if they had any.”

“That’s it!” I exclaim, snapping my fingers. “There must be cameras outside Filbert’s – why don’t they look at those to find out what happened?”

Holly shakes her head. “They don’t always help. Some cameras only record the last 24 hours and others only show live feed, so there would have to be someone monitoring them at the time.”

“What? Can’t they go back and look at the footage?”

“Only if they were recording. And now you’ve lied and said you weren’t there, it’s probably for the best if they don’t have anything on camera.”

“I suppose so.”

“So what do we know about this Alicia girl?”

“Very little. She gives nothing away.”

“Have you managed to find out anything at all?”

“Well,” I say hesitantly. “I did manage to get a copy of her personnel file.”

“Oh, you bad girl!” Julio clicks his tongue in mock disapproval.

“It didn’t tell me much, though.”

I reach into my handbag and pull out the crumpled piece of paper.

“Leave that with me,” says Holly. “I’ll do some digging around.”

“Oh, would you? That would be great!”

“I can’t promise that I’m going to find anything,” she warns. “But I’ll definitely take a look.”

I nod, appreciatively. It’s so great to finally have someone I can talk to about this stuff. Holly doesn’t seem to think I’m mad, and with her help, I may finally have the upper hand.

“And in the meantime, it would be best if you keep your distance from this girl.”

“That’s easier said than done. She’s got in pretty deep with my friends.”

“Well, you be careful. And whatever you do, don’t let her know we’re investigating her. It sounds like she could be dangerous.”

Her words send a chill down my spine…
I’m not imagining it, then.

“Are you sure you can’t stay another night?” Holly asks, as I collect up all my stuff. “We’d love to have you.”

“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
!

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.”

He raises an eyebrow and perches himself on the sofa.

“I came to give you your Christmas present.”

“You already gave me a Christmas present,” I remind him, pulling a face. He left me a book called ‘Managing your finances’ when he came for dinner.

“Your real Christmas present, silly. I wanted to see your face when you opened it.”

“Oh!”

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope.

“What’s this?”

“Why don’t you open it?”

I slit it open.

“Depeche Mode tickets?  Oh my god, this is amazing! You’re the best!” I hug him violently. “I have wanted to see them forever.”

“I know.  I couldn’t believe it when I heard that they’re finally coming to the Arena. The tickets are for Saturday night. I know it’s a bit short notice but I really wanted to surprise you.”

Wow!

I start mentally thumbing through my wardrobe, deciding what I should wear.

But wait...A big grey cloud drifts into my thoughts.

“There are only two tickets. What about Alicia?”

“Oh, she won’t mind. I mean, it’s Depeche Mode. They’re a bit before her time, aren’t they?”

I smile, but inside, my stomach is churning. 

This is Alicia we’re talking about. I can’t accept Deacon’s invitation.

“You
do
want to go?” he asks, studying my face carefully. “You’ve gone awfully quiet.”

“Of course I do!” I hug him again. “Best gift ever!”

I’ll just have to come up with an excuse in the morning.

But I can’t face telling Deacon the next day or the next.  Finally, on Thursday night I force myself to drive over to the Beach House after work.

“Isabel!” Rhett greets me. “Wait till you see what I got in the sales!”

He pulls me into the kitchen, where Deacon is sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and eating a roast beef sandwich.

Rhett bounds up to his room and returns, wielding a Frankie Morello shoe box.

“Wow,” I say eyeing his expensive new trainers. “They’re pink!”

“I know!”

“How much?”

“40% off!” 

“Nice.”

He places the shoes back in their box, tenderly wrapping them back up in their tissue paper. He keeps all his shoes like that, never even wears half of them. Still, whatever makes him happy.

“So what did you get in the sales?” he asks me.

“The sales?” I repeat. “Oh, I haven’t been.”

Deacon looks up from his newspaper.

“
You
haven’t been to the sales?” he repeats in disbelief. “Why not?”

“I just didn’t feel like it this year.”

He leans over and puts his hand to my forehead. “You don’t seem to have a temperature.”

I smile weakly. The truth is, shopping hasn’t been terribly high on my agenda lately. 

“But Isabel,” Rhett gasps, “shopping is your life. I thought we were kindred spirits!”

“It’s really not such a big deal,” I say lightly. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

“Hmm…” Rhett is still looking at me like I’m from another planet.

“So about Saturday night,” says Deacon. “Do you want me to pick you up, or shall we meet at the Arena?”

“Deacon, about that…”

“What?”

“Look, I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to be able to go.”

“Why not?” he folds his arms. “I thought you were looking forward to it.”

“I was, but I just found out I have to work that night,” I lie feebly.

“On a Saturday night?” Deacon frowns. “Look Isabel, if this is about Alicia…”

“It’s not about Alicia.”

“Cos I already talked to her and she’s fine with it.”

I bet.

Alicia!

I sense her watching from the banisters. Her eyes are lasers, scorching the back of my head.

“I really have to work that night,” I say more emphatically. “I’m sorry you went to so much trouble.”

Alicia chooses this moment to make her entrance.

“Hi Isabel, what’s up?”

“Isabel has to work on Saturday night,” Rhett fills her in.

“Oh no, isn’t the concert on Saturday?”

I nod.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Her large eyes are wide with pity. “And you were so looking forward to it.”

“Well, it can’t be helped.”

“Hey, how about I talk to Sonya?” she says, snapping her fingers. “Maybe I can cover some of your work?”

“No really, it’s fine.”

“It’s worth a try though, isn’t it?” Deacon says. “If you do still want to go?”

“Of course I do.”  

“Well, then.”

* * *

“There’s rubbish on your lawn,” Mr Krinkle points out as I arrive home. This is the probably the highlight of his day, poor man.

Gingerly, I stuff the discarded chip papers into the bin, and hurry down the path towards the house. I’m not in the mood for small talk.

“There’s another bit on your doorstep,” he calls after me.

I glance down and find a sliver of brown film. I bend down to pick it up. It appears to be a strip of negatives. I didn’t think anybody used those anymore.

Inside, I hold it up to the light. It’s hard to make out, but they appear to be the negatives of Kate’s Camp Windylake pictures. They must have fallen out of the box Julio brought round. I pull out the box from under my bed, where I’d shoved it. I didn’t even attempt to give it to Kate when she came for Christmas dinner. I didn’t want to spoil the mood by bringing up my brother. It is still taped up, but there are a couple of hand holes for carrying it. The film could have slipped out of one of those. I open the box and riffle through it for the corresponding photographs but I can’t find them. Which is a shame because I never took any photos at Camp Windylake. I kind of wish I had.

Alicia bounces up to me as I walk into work the next day.

“It’s all set,” she announces, her eyes sparkling.

“What is?”

“Saturday night, of course. I just had a word with Sonya. She wasn’t even aware you were meant to be working on Saturday. Must have been a mix up with the schedule. Anyway, she said she’d be happy to swap you to another shift.”

“Thanks.” I am more confused than ever. Does she actually want me to go the concert? Or is she playing games with me, pawing at me like a cat with a ball of yarn? It’s impossible to tell.

I am so busy puzzling over this, I almost forget to pick up the photographs. I dropped off the negatives at the 24-hour pharmacy on the way to work. I flip through the prints as I walk out of the shop, first quickly, then more slowly. Kate’s going to laugh her head off when she sees these.

What was I wearing? How could I have ever have thought ponchos were a good look?

I drive home, where a confused Fluffy circles around me as I go from room to room, checking for intruders. Although the locks have now been changed, I still can’t rest until I’m absolutely certain Alicia isn’t in the house.

Once I’m satisfied I’m alone, I make myself a cup of tea and take out the photos again. I just can’t seem to put them down. There’s something that bugs me about them, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.