Authors: Graham Hurley
After a while, as the weeks went by, I began to think of selling
Napier Road. So far I
’
d held off, not quite believing how good things
could be with Brendan, but the closer we became the more obvious it
was that neither of us would have any need for my little cul-de-sac.
Brendan really was the person who
’
d rescued me. Not just once - out
on the coast - but again now,
by listening,
and understanding,
and
finally
taking me away from a situation - Gilbert - that had got totally out of
control. Even better, he
’
d managed to work this magic without once
giving me the feeling that I
’
d become any less independent. I was still
Julie Emerson. I was still my own person. And I still had a great career
ahead of me.
Members
Only
,
by now, was nearly at the end of its transmission
run but Brendan had made it clear that there was work for me at
Doubleact for as long as I wanted it, a decision which - curiously -
Sandra hadn
’
t questioned. After the confrontation in her office, she
’
d
never raised the issue of Brendan again and both of us were extremely
careful to fence off our working relationship from the wreckage of her
private life. At the time I can remember thinking that this restraint of
hers was truly remarkable though I suspect I put it down to my own
professionalism. I was, without doubt, bloody good at my job, and
even my lover
’
s estranged wife had to admit it.
I phoned the estate agent in late May. Because I was lazy, I simply
chose the people I
’
d bought the place from in the first place. The
woman I
’
d dealt with had left but I made an appointment to meet a
young guy called Mark.
We walked round the flat together, Mark taking notes. I
’
d done my
best to hoover through and I
’
d even bought some flowers but it smelled
damp and neglected and a dull, cloudy day did less than justice to my
beautifully sanded floorboards. I hadn
’
t done anything to the kitchen
ceiling, either, though I
’
m not sure Mark noticed. At the end of the
inspection, we agreed to try it at
£55
,000,
a price which would net me
a tidy profit. Mark said he had a couple of prospects already lined up
and he
’
d be round with the first lot tomorrow. I said that sounded fine
and gave him the spare key.
I got the call from Mark the following afternoon. I was at the office,
tackling the paperwork after the last recording of
Members
Only
.
Brendan had pushed out the boat for the end-of-series party and I felt
terrible.
‘
There
’
s a problem,
’
Mark said.
‘
I
don
’
t really want to talk about it
on the phone. Can you come over?
’
We met outside the flat.
Mark was looking, if anything, embarrassed.
He was a local lad, extremely efficient, but I
’
m not sure
that his three months on the job had prepared him for the news he was
about to break.
‘
It
’
s them cats,
’
he said.
‘
Or one of them, anyway.
’
I followed him inside. I
’
d last seen both cats a couple of days earlier.
Since then Pinot had disappeared but I hadn
’
t been unduly concerned
because he
’
d always been the wanderer. Wherever he got to, he always
came back. Until now.
Mark led me through to the kitchen. Noir, the other cat, was
waiting beside the door. Mark opened the fridge. The fridge of course,
was empty. Or had been. Now, curled on the middle shelf, was Pinot. I
stared at him. He seemed to be asleep. I looked at Mark.
‘
He
’
s thawing,
’
he said.
‘
I
couldn
’
t think of any other place
to put him
.
’
Mark had arrived earlier in the day with the first lot of prospective
buyers, a young Australian couple. He
’
d let them into the shared hall,
only to find the cat lying on the carpet outside my front door. The cat
hadn
’
t moved. The woman had touched him first. Pinot had been
frozen solid. He was very dead.
‘
Shit.
’
I was thinking of Nikki.
‘
Shit, shit.
’
‘
They went.
’
‘
Who did?
’
‘
The people I was showing round. Didn
’
t want to know. Especially
the woman. She was spooked.
’
‘
I
’
m not surprised.
’
I took a step back and risked a little look at the ceiling. For a
moment, I swear I saw the glint of a watching eye, though I may have
imagined it.
‘
How come?
’
Mark was asking.
‘
I
don
’
t understand it.
’
‘
Me neither.
’
He looked at me, unconvinced. What hadn
’
t I told him? What was
going on here?
‘
It was like a message,
’
he said.
‘
People don
’
t put cats in freezers, just
leave them there, then plonk them outside someone else
’
s front door.
’
He paused.
‘
It
is
your cat, isn
’
t it?
’
‘
It
’
s a friend
’
s,
’
I said.
‘
She
’
s away for a while. She
’
ll be mortified.
’
‘
But why…
’
he gestured at the fridge,
‘
…
would anyone want to
do that? It
’
s mad, isn
’
t it? Crazy?
’
I mustered a weak smile and agreed with him. It had to be Gilbert,
had to be. There was no other suspect half as crazy as he was. I
shivered. The shadow had fallen over me again. And it had taken less
than three minutes.
‘
Have you had any other interest?
’
I was still looking at Mark.
‘
Yeah, two or three calls. It
’
s a competitive price.
’
‘
And you
’
ll bring these people round?
’
‘
Yeah, just as long as…
’
he turned away,
closing the fridge door,
‘
…
there
’
s nothing funny going on.
’
With the greatest reluctance, that afternoon, I phoned Tottenham
Green police station. The news that PC Dave Hegarty had gone on
leave was a huge relief. I asked, instead, for Gaynor. When she came to
the phone, she said she
’
d never heard of me.
We met that night at half past six. We
’
d had a long chat on the
phone and by the time she got to Napier Road, she
’
d had time to get
her thoughts in some kind of order. Face to face, she turned out to be a
slim, pretty woman a couple of years older than me. She had watchful
eyes and a flat North London accent.
She could easily have been the estate agent
’
s sister.
We sat in the kitchen over a pot of tea. I
’
d shown her the cat in the
fridge, and the hole in the ceiling, and I
’
d filled in one or two of the bits
I hadn
’
t mentioned on the phone. When she asked me why it had taken
me so long to get in touch again after reporting Gilbert in the first
place, I told her a little about Brendan. I
’
d been living with him, I said,
and that had sorted things for a while. But now Gilbert was back in my
life. With a vengeance.
‘
The law
’
s all changed,
’
she said.
‘
You probably realise that.
’
I nodded. Back at the end of last year, there
’
d been a lot of publicity
about a reform of the law with regard to stalking. According to
Gaynor, there were two new criminal offences. The first involved
violence, but to commit the lesser offence, in the words of the
legislation, it was enough to cause harassment. I thought of the night
Gilbert appeared at my bedside, the shape in the darkness looking
down at me. Harassment seemed a pretty weak word to describe the
moment when I turned on the light and saw him standing there.
Gaynor was studying her notes. Unlike Dave Hegarty, she appeared
to believe me. She was also, to my immense relief, extremely
straightforward. No dramas. No funny games. Just a ready grasp of
the practicalities of the situation.
‘
What do you want to do?
’
she asked at last.
‘
Frighten him?
’
‘
Warn him off.
’
‘
Same thing, isn
’
t it? He
’
s not actually pursuing you, not following
you, not from what you say.
’
Her eyes returned to the notepad.
‘
Apart
from that night you came to the station.
’
‘
That
’
s right.
’
‘
So it
’
s not like you
’
re under physical threat.
’
‘
No, not any more.
’
‘
An irritation then? Is that it?
’
‘
Yes.
’
Gaynor nodded and I sensed at once that I
’
d made a mistake,
permitting her to play it down like this.
‘
He can still be pretty scary,
’
I said,
‘
Breaking into my flat the way he
did.
’
‘
He didn
’
t break in. Not technically.
’
‘
But he did. He did when he came into the bedroom, and again when
he took the cats, and again that time he stole the film from the camera.
That makes him a burglar, doesn
’
t it?
’
Gaynor poured herself another cup of tea.
‘
To get him for breaking and entering, we have to prove intent.
Because you lent him the keys, we can
’
t do that.
’