Under the Spotlight (Perth Girls Book 4)

by Bree Verity

  “The doctor reckons it was a panic attack, because they can’t find anything else wrong with me.”

  Desiree snorted. “What have you got to panic about?”

  “That’s exactly what I said. But everyone keeps telling me I should go see a psych.”

  Lydia’s dark brows drew together. “Who is everyone?”

  “Well, so far it’s the doctor, my mum and dad, and Jim.” Penny noticed Lydia’s troubled expression. “Don’t tell me you’re on their side?”

  “Pen, if the doctor thinks you should, maybe you should.”

  “Maybe there’s something buried in your past that you don’t know about,” added Desiree with a shrug. Penny reflected that Desiree didn’t realise how close she had come to the mark. It was time to turn the conversation around, even though the new topic would be just as painful.

  “Well, there is something bothering me, but it’s not buried. Jim said he’s retiring.”

  “Finally, the old fart. How old is he now?”

  Penny gave a quick laugh. Desiree knew Jim from coming into the store while Pen was working. And Penny had confessed to her friends about a year ago that she thought he would give her the manager’s job when he retired. It had been customary from then on to speculate about poor Jim’s age and state of health. He would be horrified if he heard some of the diseases Desiree had bestowed upon him over the past year.

  “Don’t be mean, Des. He’s only sixty.”

  “But ready to drop off the perch.”

  “I hope I look that good at sixty,” said Lydia. “The man has a six pack.”

  “Well, he might have a nice body, but in the brains department, he’s totally lacking.” Penny picked up her drink and took a sip before continuing. “He’s not going to give me the manager’s job.”

  “What?” Both Lydia and Desiree were aghast.

  “Yep. Took me into the office and asked me who I thought he should choose. I was furious.”

  “And did you tell him he should choose you?”

  “Des, he wasn’t asking me to nominate myself.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know, okay.” Penny was getting a little bit rattled. “It wasn’t that kind of a conversation. So, I told him he should choose Gavin or Rachel.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Penny.” Desiree said with a groan. “It was a test. To see if you thought you were ready for the job.”

  Lydia reached over the table to wave a hand in Desiree’s face before she could say more. “This might be a good thing, Des.” She turned to Penny. “That job has been a crutch for you for years. Maybe you should look for something else.”

  “Like what?” Penny felt control of the conversation slipping from her fingers. She didn’t want another job.

  “I don’t know, you have a sports science degree. Why don’t you use it?”

  Penny shook her head. “But I like my job. I like where I am.”

  “Pen, maybe it’s time.”

  “Time for what, exactly?”

  Lydia took her hand. “Time to start adulting. That job? It’s always going to be a sales assistant job. You’re better than that. On those wages, you can’t even move out of home.”

  “I could so,” said Penny mutinously. “I just choose to stay.”

  “Do you really think your parents expected their kids to stay at home ‘til they were thirty?”

  Penny frowned. “They love having us there. They say so all the time.”

  “Bullshit,” said Desiree confidently, in agreement with Lydia. “I’ll guarantee they’d like to see the back end of you.”

  “That’s just hurtful, Desiree.”

  “Maybe. But it’s true, babe. You need to cut the apron strings.”

  Penny paused, her entire body tensing up. Were her parents secretly wishing she would move? And even if they were, she really didn’t have the money to move, despite what she told the girls. She could probably move into a shared house. But it scared her a little, thinking of living with a perfect stranger. What if they were a druggie? Or refused to help with the cleaning? Or listened to loud music all night long? She wouldn’t have the nerve to tell them to stop, or to leave. She’d be stuck there, unhappy. But what if right now she was making her own parents unhappy?

  For a moment, Penny was certain she was about to have another attack. Her chest tightened, pulse started to race, and her head started to buzz. But just then Lydia leaned in and gave her a hug.

  “Don’t look so miserable, Pen. It’s not something you have to decide on right now. But it’s definitely something you should think about.”

  “Alright. I’ll think about it.” With a few deep breaths, Penny brought her body back under control. Thank goodness.

  “Good. That’s all we ask.”

  Chapter Seven

  The following morning found Penny seated in the offices of Dr. Pamela Johnson, psychologist. Her mum had surprised her with the news that she had called for an appointment yesterday and, luckily, they had a space in the morning where someone else had dropped out. Penny’s protests that she didn’t want to see the psychologist were drowned out by her parents, insisting it would do her good. Rather than argue, Penny just gave in. Like she always did.

  She was ushered into Dr. Johnson’s office five minutes after her allotted appointment time. The doctor was a short, stocky woman with short, wavy, dark blonde hair and trendy glasses. She exuded an aura of competence, rather than sympathy. Penny was surprised. She had expected someone more vivacious, maybe like Barbara Streisand, but instead, she was looking into the steely gaze of Helen Mirren. It made her even more nervous about the visit.

  Dr. Johnson sat down on one side of a tan leather couch, and waved Penny to the other. Another surprise. There was nowhere for her to lay down. The doctor seemed to notice her hesitation and smiled.

  “You seem a little bit nervous.”

  Penny laughed hollowly, hearing the strain in her own voice. “It’s different to what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Well, there should be a couch. And you should have a clipboard or something and be saying, ‘Tell me about your mother.’”

  It was the doctor’s turn to laugh. “Not quite the way we do things anymore. I’ll still take notes, but I use a notepad. And these days we have a conversation, rather than you just talking at me and then me telling you what’s wrong with you.”

  Penny let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. “So, where do we start?”

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”

  Straight into it then thought Penny, trying to order her thoughts.

  “Well… I had a couple of panic attacks. At least that’s what the doctors think they were.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I don’t know what they were. I thought I was having problems with my heart, but all the tests came back clear.” Penny furrowed her brow, thinking back. “I guess I just don’t like the thought of them being panic attacks.” She smiled a little sheepishly at Dr. Johnson.

  “Why?”

  “Because that would mean I have something to panic over.”

  “And do you?”

  Penny paused. The doctor’s question opened the conversation to dangerous territory. Things she didn’t want to talk about, or even think about. But wasn’t that the whole purpose of being here? Penny really didn’t want to have any more panic attacks. Their randomness and their sharp, sudden pain and lack of control were terrifying. But she also didn’t want to open the locked box of memories shoved deep in her brain.

  “I don’t think so. My mum seems to think I need to talk about an abortion I had, but that was years ago.” There. She’d put it out there, and effectively blocked conversation about it. She felt a little smug.

  “Why would your Mum think that?”

  Penny shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it still affects her.” She shrugged. “We just don’t talk about it at all.”

  “Okay.” The d
octor scratched in her notepad and Penny itched to know what she was writing. Probably something like ‘mommy issues’ or ‘post-traumatic stress’. She finished scrawling and looked back up at Penny. “Mothers can sometimes see things that we can’t, or that we don’t want to. Could you mum be right? Or even, partially right?”

  Penny looked down at her hands and was surprised to find them clenched into fists in her lap. Maybe her smugness at avoiding the conversation was a little premature. It seemed like Dr. Johnson was going to try to make her talk about it anyway. Her brain started to sound an alarm - warning! Danger ahead! But Penny tried not to allow her tension to show. She straightened her hands out, stretching all her fingers wide, then gave a shrug. “I guess it’s possible. Anything’s possible.”

  “Let’s explore that a little more then, can we?”

  “Sure. If you think it’s the right way to go.”

  “Don’t you? Think it’s the right way to go?”

  “You’re the doctor,” Penny replied, hearing the belligerence in her own voice and flushing a little.

  “That I am,” agreed Dr. Johnson, “but it’s your session. We can talk about anything you want to talk about.”

  “All I really want is for these panic attacks to stop,” said Penny. “So, any advice you can give about that would be helpful.”

  The doctor sat back in her chair. “Panic attacks are the symptom. We need to work out the underlying cause - why you’ve started having panic attacks.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And that’s why you’re here.” Dr. Johnson beamed at Penny and took off her glasses. “They don’t tend to happen for no reason. So, to help you to get over them, we need to look for the reason. It might be a little bit painful for you. It might mean going places you don’t want to go, feeling things you don’t want to feel. But you should know that this space, this room,” she indicated the room with a sweep of her arm, “is safe. Nothing you say in here goes anywhere further than these walls. It doesn’t matter how much you cry or rant or scream - it all stays here.”

  Penny found some odd comfort in Dr. Johnson’s speech. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she was going to spill all her best kept secrets to her. But perhaps, just perhaps, she could talk through a few things that were bothering her, without delving into the whole story.

  “I appreciate that,” she said sincerely. “And I suppose there are a few things I’d like to talk about.”

  “Good,” said the doctor. “Where do you want to start?”

  Penny considered for a moment, then said, “I never told my best friends about my abortion. My mum thinks I should have. What do you think?”

  There was silence for a moment as the doctor considered her response. Penny could see her thinking, her eyes downcast for a moment before they swept back up to Penny’s face. “I’m surprised you were able to keep it a secret. How did you do it?”

  Penny shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard. I said I was away at my grandmothers, and after we kind of talked about that, they never asked again. I guess someone else’s holidays must be boring.”

  “So, you lied to them?”

  “I had to. We were inseparable, and then there were a couple of months that first of all I was hanging around with this guy, and then had the… you know. There needed to be an explanation.”

  Dr. Johnson nodded. “Do you regret not telling them?”

  “Sometimes. I guess. Kind of a passing feeling, when they are telling me something big in their lives, like I should tell them.”

  “That still happens, even now?”

  “Yeah, sometimes. It’s like, I take their confidences, but I didn’t give them mine.”

  “Well, trust in friendship is an important thing.”

  “It is,” agreed Penny, “but at the time I didn’t want them to coddle me or sympathize. I just wanted to move along, forget about it. And now, it seems like the time has passed for being able to tell them.” She shrugged one shoulder.

  “What do you think would happen if you told them now?”

  Penny smiled. “After Desiree killed me for keeping a secret from her? I’m not sure. It depends how big of a deal they made of it.”

  “How big of a deal are they likely to make?”

  “I don’t know.” But she did have some idea. Lydia would smother her in kindness, letting her know that it didn’t change anything. But Desiree was vocally pro-life.

  “One of them would probably be fine. The other? I just don’t know.”

  “Would it destroy your friendship?”

  Again, Penny paused, before answering slowly, “You know, I don’t think it would. We’ve had our share of disagreements, and all of us have our own opinions on things, but in the end, we’re still friends.”

  “That’s definitely something to think about then,” said Dr. Johnson. “If it’s bothering you.”

  The session continued, Penny noticing that, despite her assurance that they would be having a conversation, Dr. Johnson spent most of her time asking questions, and drawing Penny’s thoughts and opinions out. The hour sped by quickly, and before she knew it, Penny was scheduling a second appointment, for the same time next week.

  Standing outside the psychologist’s office, she stopped. She felt a little lighter somehow. What had happened in the psych’s office? Thinking back, Penny could only identify a series of questions and answers, and nothing that should make her feel better. Yet there it was.

  She almost looked forward to her next visit.

  Arriving at the theater later that evening, Penny still felt like she was smiling at the world. But that all changed as soon as she walked into the greenroom. It was chaos.

  “What’s going on?” she shouted over the ruckus. She noticed Marc by the props table looking stressed, with several of the actors grouped around him. She strolled over to join the group, her happy mood dissolving as she noticed the upset and angry faces.

  Marc was grim. “We found these on the props table when we came in.” He stepped away and Penny saw a pile of things dumped in the middle of the table - things that were definitely not props. There was a lipstick and a book, someone’s wallet and a few other bits and pieces.

  “Where did they come from?” Penny asked.

  “I don’t know how it got there, but that’s my lipstick,” said one girl pointing at the offending item. Another girl, Amber joined in. “And that’s the bobble off my keychain. Someone would have actually had to get my keys out of my bag to get it.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just want my stuff back, but Marc wants us to leave it and call the police.”

  Penny grimaced at Marc. “The police? Do you think we need to do that? It’s obviously some smart arse who thinks pinching stuff and then putting it somewhere random is fun. Remember Becca’s phone the other day?”

  “That’s just it though Pen. Someone is stealing things.”

  “Yes, but they’re not keeping them. It’s annoying, sure. I’ll get Jane to make an announcement, so everyone knows it’s not funny and to stop doing it. But I can’t really see the point in calling the police. Do you really think they’ll investigate a robbery when we have the stuff back in our hands?”

  “Surely, they have better things to do,” piped up Cerise, and the other muttered their agreement.

  Marc threw a murderous glance at Cerise, then growled, “Fine. Whatever.” He stepped away from the table, and half a dozen people converged on it like a flock of seagulls fighting over a chip. When they were done and gone, Penny sighed. “I guess we need to reset the props table.”

  “I guess so.” Marc’s tone was still a little belligerent, and she turned to him with a smile.

  “Really, do you think the cops would bother?”

  “I think if someone is stealing stuff, they should be reported.”

  “But are they really stealing?”

  “Pen, someone had to pull Amber’s keys out of her bag to get that bobble off. What if they�
��d walked away with them? Wouldn’t be too hard to work out which car they belonged to.”

  Penny nodded her reluctant agreement. “I guess you’re right.” She sighed in frustration before adding, “Okay, so let’s make sure the stage door locked when nobody is here, and I’ll get Jane to make an announcement about it tonight, and hopefully whoever thinks this is funny will get the message. Then, if it happens again…”

  The lights went out in the theater and they found themselves in total darkness. A scream came from one of the change rooms, followed by a gurgle of laughter.

  “Okay fellas, that’s not funny. Turn them back on.” Penny was in no mood for practical jokes. But the lights didn’t come back on.

  “Penny!” Jane shouted from in front of the stage, her tone brooking no nonsense. “What happened to the lights?” So, it wasn’t just backstage lights that had gone.

  “Looks like the whole place is out, Jane,” she shouted back. “I’ll go check the switches. Can you check the ones in the front?”

  Before Jane could answer, Penny’s blood froze as a terrified scream sounded across the stage. “The ghost!”

  Then, just as suddenly as they had gone out, the lights came back on and pandemonium reigned for a couple of moments as the people closest to Amber questioned her about what she saw. She was the one who had screamed, and her face was dead white. Someone had sat her down, and a crowd gathered around her. She was pointing to a corner of the stage. “It was there. I saw a shadow. In the dark, a shadow moving.”

  “Was it the ghost?”

  “I don’t know. But it was just… wrong. There are no shadows in the dark.”

  Amber’s words, and the terrified expression on her face made Penny shiver.

  Jane came striding out to the back. “What happened?”

  “We had a ghost sighting. While the lights were out.”

  Jane raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Right. Okay, let’s get everything sorted and get this run underway. Everyone!” she raised her voice and the crowd turned to her, ably trained to listen when the director was speaking. “We need to get this run going. If the lights go off again, just stand still and Penny will go check the switches.”