I see red and, next thing I know, I’m shouting and screaming uncontrollably at this bloke, bellowing all kinds of insults at him at full volume. His expression turns to one of horrified bewilderment. Some of my neighbours emerge out of the doors of their flats to see what’s going on, and he turns on his heel to scarper.
‘Go on, get lost, scumbag!’ I call after him. ‘And don’t come back or I’ll report you for harassment.’
My blood still boiling, I’m about to go back inside to calm down when Doreen appears before me, her face knotted with concern. ‘Is everything okay, Luke?’ she asks. ‘Who on earth was that? What’s going on? Should we call the police?’
‘Doreen,’ I say, taking a deep breath to steady my voice before continuing. ‘Sorry about the noise. He was, um, a journalist. Not the nice kind either. He must have tricked his way inside the building and then he wouldn’t leave. He stuck his foot in my door and it reminded me of … I guess I, er, panicked.’
Doreen’s brilliant. She takes me back inside and, after explaining the situation to the rest of the neighbours, she tours the building to check Billy has really gone and then makes me a cup of tea to calm my nerves.
Later, once I’m alone again, I start to worry about what Billy said to me and what he might do in retaliation for the way I got rid of him. There’s only one person I can think of who might be able to help, so I call her mobile, which unfortunately goes straight to voicemail.
‘Nora,’ I say, leaving a message. ‘Sorry to bother you. It’s Luke. Is there any chance you could give me a call whenever you get this?’
CHAPTER 31
‘You really didn’t need to come and see me,’ I tell Nora, handing her a glass of water. ‘But it’s very nice of you and I do appreciate it.’
It feels strange for her to be here in my flat, since she’s never visited before. Once I knew she was coming, I found myself tidying up, shifting various bits of junk from the living room to my bedroom. I also made sure to get out of my dressing gown and into some presentable clothes. I’m not a patch on her, though. She looks effortlessly fantastic in black jeans and a white jumper, ruby-red lipstick, hair up in an immaculate bun.
I offered her a tea or coffee when she first arrived. Did she opt for water instead to make it easy for me? She may well have been worried how I’d manage, with my injuries, although they’re improving all the time: my hands in particular. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt to do certain everyday tasks, but I’m getting there.
‘How are you doing now?’ she asks. ‘I bet it’s nice to be home.’
‘Definitely. I’m feeling better every day. Well, I was until that idiot Billy Broome called by this morning. Do you know him?’
She wrinkles her nose. ‘A little bit. We’ve run into each other a couple of times on jobs, although we mainly work in different fields. He’s all about the tabloids and news stories, really, unlike me. He always seems very, er, full of himself.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘He started out at one of the regional press agencies a couple of years back and soon became chief reporter there. Next thing, he set up on his own. I’ve heard it said that he doesn’t always do things by the book. What exactly did he tell you? What questions did he ask?’
I recount in detail what happened; Nora raises an eyebrow several times during my account but waits until I’ve finished before commenting.
‘I see,’ she says. ‘I feel like I ought to apologise on behalf of my profession. It’s people like him that give us a bad name.’
‘How did he even find out where I live?’ I ask. ‘And why’s he bothering me on a Saturday morning, the day after I get home from hospital?’
‘It’s surprisingly easy to find out people’s addresses, I’m afraid. The Internet’s like a backdoor key into everyone’s private lives, if you know where to look. With regards to him calling here today, I wouldn’t read too much into that. He’s probably been trying to get hold of you for a few days. His aim will have been to speak to you first; to beat anyone else to it.’
‘It’s the drug-dealing allegation he mentioned that’s really bothering me,’ I say. ‘I’ve no idea where that came from, but obviously it’s total rubbish. Have you heard any rumours along those lines?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Sitting across from me in the lounge, she reaches for her glass and takes a sip from her water. ‘It sounds to me like something he made up to try to scare you into talking to him. Typical strong-arm, bullyboy tactics. I’ll check it out for you, to be sure. But don’t worry: I’ll be extra careful not to inadvertently spread any misinformation myself.’
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘That would be great. I worry he might get vindictive after the way I saw him off. I wouldn’t usually have reacted like that, but him blocking the door with his foot … I lost it.’
‘No, I totally understand. Leave Billy Broome to me. He might think he’s well connected, but he’s not been around half as long as I have. A couple of chats with the right people and I could get him into some trouble, businesswise. Let me fire a shot across the bows and I bet you’ll never hear from him again.’
‘Really? Could you? That would be amazing, if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble. You’ve done such a lot for me recently, Nora. How can I ever thank you?’
She smiles, looks down at the floor and seems like she’s about to say something. Then Alfred appears out of nowhere and springs on to her knee, causing her to jump up and let out a little squeal. This in turn scares the cat, whose tail fluffs out like a racoon’s before he tears off again towards my bedroom.
Nora holds both hands to her mouth and slowly starts to laugh. ‘Wow. That scared the life out of me.’
Chuckling, I say: ‘Nora, meet Alfred, my flatmate of sorts. That was his way of saying hello. You should feel honoured. It’s rare for him to be that friendly when he first meets someone. He obviously liked the look of you, until you scared him off. Don’t you like cats?’
‘I do, actually. I don’t have one now, as most of the places I’ve rented over the years haven’t allowed pets, but I did when I was a girl. Prudence, she was called: a beautiful black cat with one white paw—’
‘Like in the book Gobbolino the Witch’s Cat,’ I say.
‘Exactly,’ she replies, her eyes lighting up. ‘Gobbolino was my nickname for Prudence, although she did have a small white patch on her chest too, so she wasn’t exactly the same. Did you also read that story at primary school? I loved it.’
‘I did – and I was a big fan too.’
‘I adored Prudence. We spent so much time together. She slept on the end of my bed most nights when I was growing up. She also used to watch me doing my homework for hours on end. Then she got run over during my first term away at university. I was heartbroken. I sobbed for days.’
‘I can imagine. I don’t know what I’d do without my little lad.’
Nora twists around to face the direction of my bedroom. ‘Sorry, Alfred,’ she calls. ‘You scared me, that’s all. I’d love to meet you again later if you’ll give me another shot. You’re very welcome on my knee.’
Turning back to me, lips contorted into an exaggerated sad face, she adds: ‘He probably won’t give me another chance now, will he? I reckon I’ve blown it.’
I grin. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with him later and tell him how good you’ve been to me. If anyone can talk him round, I can. We go back a long way.’
‘Purrfect. Alfred’s a great name for a cat, by the way.’
‘Thanks. I like it when pets are called non-typical animal names. If I ever have another male cat, I reckon I’ll call him something like Alan or Kevin.’
Nora claps her hands together. ‘Yes! Kevin the cat. Love it.’
‘Anyway, you were about to say something when Alfred rudely interrupted. About how I might thank you for helping me.’
I regret saying this as soon as it’s come out, because Nora’s cheeks flush and she looks awkward as hell. ‘Um—’
‘No, thank you,’ Nora replies. She looks down at the floor for a long moment, her hair hanging in front of her face. Then she slowly starts to chuckle. ‘I feel like a schoolgirl,’ she says. ‘I’m so used to doing this kind of thing online – through apps and so on, or via well-meaning, if misguided, friends – I’m struggling with what to say in real life, person to person. I almost chickened out then, after Alfred interrupted me, but I’ll regret it if I don’t say something. I know I will. So here goes nothing.’
She smiles, her white teeth glistening.
Pauses.
And in that gap, time appears to draw to a halt.
My mind and my heart race each other with anticipation.
I think I might know what she’s about to say, but I daren’t believe it until I actually hear the words.
The silence is killing me, but I force myself not to break it, while doing my utmost to hold her gaze.
An old-fashioned part of me wonders if I ought to be the one to say these words, if they are indeed what I think they might be, but I can’t bring myself to interrupt her and risk ruining the moment again.
I gulp and, as my Adam’s apple jerks forward, time kicks back into gear.
‘I like you, Luke,’ she says. ‘I felt like we had an instant connection the moment we met. I think we’re on the same wavelength. We make each other laugh, which is always a good start, and when I heard what happened to you the other night, I really felt it – like a punch in the gut. That was when I realised how much I cared about you, even though we’ve not known each other long at all. And I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s something you’re interested in. At your own speed, of course. I’d never rush anything after, um, all you’ve been through. So, to get to the point, you asked earlier how you could ever thank me for helping you.’
I nod, smiling. ‘I did indeed.’
She attempts a nonchalant shrug but ends up holding her hand in front of her flushed face, giggling. ‘I told you I didn’t know how to do this in person.’
‘Nonsense,’ I reply. ‘I think you’re doing a great job. But please tell me what it is I can do. I’m dying to know now. And in case it helps, I am definitely interested too. How could I not be?’
‘Well, that is nice to know.’ She fans her face with both hands. ‘Do I look as red as I feel? I reckon you could probably fry an egg on my cheek.’
‘I think you look absolutely gorgeous,’ I tell her without having to consider it or feeling awkward. The words slip out, although I’ve never said such a thing to her before. It’s as if there used to be an invisible barrier between us – and now it’s gone, thanks to Nora’s honesty. I can literally feel a shift in the dynamic between us now that we both know where we stand. The air in the room is so charged, I can almost hear it crackling.
She meets my gaze and holds it. ‘Maybe you should do something about that, then.’
‘Maybe I should.’
We’re still staring intensely at each other, on the brink of who knows what, when there’s a loud knock on the door, followed by the sound of a familiar voice. ‘Hello, Luke, are you there? Don’t worry, it’s not that nasty man again. It’s me, Doreen. I’ve got some cake to lift your spirits.’
CHAPTER 32
I’m up early this Monday morning, because Meg’s got a surprise for me.
She was visiting yesterday afternoon and, before leaving, she instructed me to be ready with an overnight bag by 10.30 a.m. today.
‘How come?’ I asked her. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You and I are going on a little trip,’ she replied. ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about. Quite the opposite. Just a gift from me to my favourite cousin to help with your recuperation.’
‘Where are we going? What about Alfred?’
‘Not far and it’s only for one night, so the cat should be fine with a big bowl of food and water. Plus Doreen or one of the others can check on him, if needs be. Leave all that to me. Be ready in time with a change of clothes and anything else you need for a night away. Okay?’
‘I guess so. Can you really not tell me any more? Surprises make me nervous.’
Meg placed a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘You know I do, Meg. More than anyone else.’
‘So trust me, then.’
I look at the clock: 10.21 a.m. Nearly time.
I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
I had yet another freaky dream last night. Well, it was this morning, really; my alarm went off in the middle of it.
I don’t recall much, apart from the bit right before I woke up, which still sends shivers down my spine when I think about it. I was in the middle of a particularly large double bed. Lying to my left was a zombie-like version of Iris: a decaying corpse, essentially, which was moving and groaning but did not appear to contain her consciousness. To my right was a similar version of Moxie, although his body was more crushed and mangled than rotten, like you’d imagine it might look after being hit by a moving bus. And he was able to talk, despite his jaw being partly detached from the rest of his head, and one of his eyes having popped out of its socket.
‘How does it feel?’ I remember him asking me in a gruff voice.
‘How does what feel?’ I replied.
‘Killing the two of us,’ he said before erupting into a creepy belly laugh. ‘You’re almost a serial killer. Maybe we should start calling you the Sweeney Todd of Manchester.’
‘I haven’t killed anyone. It’s not my fault that you died.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ he said. ‘Would either of us be dead now if we hadn’t run into you when we did?’
‘Seriously? You’re the one who came after me with a bloody knife. I wasn’t driving the bus that killed you.’
‘Whatever helps you deal with it, Luke. You and I both know the truth, though, don’t we? Iris does too, but I think her tongue must have rotted away. Shame.’
‘That’s not Iris,’ I told him defiantly. ‘She was cremated.’
‘Hmm,’ he replied. ‘I think I’d rather take my chances underground and be buried.’
At that point, I realised we were no longer in a bed but a giant coffin. Suddenly the lid was being shut and I was in the dark, with Moxie’s nasty comments in my right ear and Iris’s groans in my left.
Moxie cackled. ‘Buried alive! Perfect. Ain’t karma a bitch?’
And then, thank goodness, I was saved by the bell, aka my clock radio, which I’d set to buzz for once to ensure I got up in time to be ready for Meg’s surprise.
There is a part of me that does feel guilty about Iris and even Moxie dying like they did, I must admit. It’s only normal to feel like that, I suppose, considering how they were both killed while I survived. Another thing I probably need to discuss with my therapist, whenever I actually get an appointment with one.
Before I have time to dwell on this for too long, the buzzer sounds.
‘It’s me,’ Meg’s voice says. ‘I’m downstairs with the car. Do you need a hand carrying your stuff?’
‘No, I only have a small rucksack. I’ll be fine. See you in a minute.’
‘Bye, Alfred,’ I say, giving him a stroke before I leave. ‘You’re in charge until I get back, yeah? If Doreen calls in to check on you, be nice.’
He glances at me and then his eyelids slide shut.
‘So, come on, where are we going, then?’ I ask Meg once I’m in the Mini and she’s driving us through the city, our destination still a mystery to me.
She smirks. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
‘Really? You’re going to make me wait until we get there?’
‘Yep.’
‘Brilliant.’
‘How are you doing today?’ she asks. ‘Much pain?’
‘I’m okay, thanks. My hands are always a bit stiff
and sore when I first use them after sleeping, but yeah, they’re coming along.’
‘Good. Heard any more from Helen?’
‘Since her letter, you mean? No. I’m not expecting to either, unless I decide to contact her.’
‘Hmm.’
Meg’s been funny about this ever since I showed her what my ex-wife wrote. I thought that, like me, she’d be impressed; instead, she’s warned me to be wary.
‘I’ll never trust that woman again,’ she says, taking one hand off the steering wheel to wag her forefinger at me. ‘Neither should you.’
‘I hear you, but I think you’re wrong. I’ve no reason not to take Helen at face value this time.’
Rolling her eyes, Meg moves on to other matters rather than picking a fight. ‘Any more unwanted press attention since I saw you yesterday?’
‘No, thankfully not. Hopefully Nora’s chat with the charming Mr Billy Broome has done the trick. That’s not to say I won’t be bothered by anyone else, but at least I’ll be prepared, if so. Plus, it’s not like I haven’t been through this kind of thing before. It happened after Mum and Dad were killed and, to a lesser extent, when I survived the scaffolding accident. To be honest, it’s usually a case of saying no and they go away. Billy Broome, with his fictional rumours of drug-dealing, was something of an extreme example.’
Meg looks across at me from the driver’s seat with a glint in her eye. ‘It was good of Nora to help you.’
‘Definitely.’
I haven’t yet told Meg about the discussion Nora and I had on Saturday when we admitted to liking each other. I probably will do soon, but while she’s not telling me where we’re going, I’m in no great rush to share this. It is possible that Nora has already mentioned it to her, but I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure my cousin would have said something if that was the case. Besides, it’s not like she and Nora are that close. They occasionally socialise together; they’re not BFFs.
I’m sure Meg will be delighted to hear the news, although things haven’t progressed much further than words so far. Doreen turning up when she did saw to that. Nora made her excuses a few minutes after my neighbour’s arrival and, while there was a lingering hug goodbye at the door, it didn’t feel like the right time to go in for a kiss.
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