Don’t Stand So Close
Page 25
‘Have you and your husband bought somewhere else?’ Sandra enquired. ‘Or are you still looking?’
‘We’re not together any more.’
The last time they had met, Stella had been a newlywed.
‘Oh,’ Sandra said, taking a second to bounce back from this unfortunate news. ‘Are you still living in the area?’ she asked.
‘No. I’ve been in a clinic for the last few months. Detoxification programme.’
‘Good for you,’ Sandra said, encouragingly.
Stella spotted something outside: a rotund shape, peeking out from under the window. The key in the door was stiff and she had to work at it a while to get it to turn. She pushed the doors wide open, and then hesitated, the old familiar tensing in her stomach, her mouth going dry out of habit. She ignored the signs. She stepped outside. The jade Buddha lay on his side on the patio.
‘Is that yours?’ Sandra asked.
‘It belonged to Dr Fisher,’ Stella said.
‘We did ask the movers to pack everything up, they must have missed that.’
‘I only had one guest the whole time I lived here,’ Stella said. ‘And she threw this Buddha through the window.’
‘Oh,’ Sandra said.
‘She was madly in love with my husband,’ Stella said, unable to resist testing Sandra’s polite reserve just a little longer. The estate agent was doing an excellent job of not looking shocked.
‘I’d like to take him with me,’ Stella said.
‘Of course.’ Sandra looked sceptical as she watched Stella attempt to lift the heavy ornament, swaying on her heels.
The Buddha was no lightweight. Blue must have been in a fury to have lifted him, to have hurled him through the glass. Stella thought she would like to have even half of her spirit.
‘Did you want to take a last look around?’ Sandra said. ‘To check if there’s anything else they’ve overlooked?’
Stella shook her head.
‘Are you sure?’ Sandra said. ‘You’ve come all the way out here.’
Stella walked through to the kitchen. She opened the cupboard above the sink, for old time’s sake, and because she still longed for the bitter taste of diazepam on her tongue. It was empty. She wanted to go up to her bedroom. Their bedroom. To lie on the bed and see small fluorescent stars on the ceiling and to wait for Max to come to her.
Stella sat the Buddha on the kitchen counter. She reached into her bag and found two sets of keys, both of which she handed over to Sandra.
‘You know,’ Sandra said, ‘I remember thinking you looked so unhappy when I first met you. I thought that was unusual, for someone who had just got married and who was buying such an extraordinary home. The couples I meet generally only start to look that miserable after the first five years or so.’
Stella smiled at her.
The contract signed, Stella struggled out, back down the driveway with the Buddha in her arms. She was sure Hannah wouldn’t mind having the cheerful, plump green man squatting at her place for a while. She placed him on her lap and fastened her seatbelt.
She sat back, leaned her head against the headrest, and closed her eyes as Hannah drove with care round the steep bends of Hilltop. She took pleasure in the feel of smooth jade under her fingertips and the sensation of the sun against her forehead, her nose, her cheekbones, her lips. They would be back in London within the hour.
Acknowledgements
Thanks go first to my brilliant agent, Madeleine Milburn. I have been privileged to have the guidance of a gifted editor, Harriet Bourton, and I am grateful to everybody at Transworld for their commitment to this book and to Sophie Wilson for her early insight and enthusiasm.
I have had several inspirational teachers, and I thank all of them, in particular Tricia Wastvedt and Scott Bradfield. Thanks to Emma-Jane Barton for all your support and encouragement.
My thanks go to Detective Inspector Nick Mervin, who gave generously of his time and expertise, and to psychiatrists Eduardo Szaniecki and Pamela Ashurst, who commented on medication and adolescent mental health issues. The errors are all mine.
Last but not least, thank you to my family for making everything possible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Luana Lewis is a clinical psychologist and author of two non-fiction books. She was born in Zimbabwe and has lived in South Africa, the Netherlands and England. She shares a home in Buckinghamshire with her family and assorted pets.
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First published in Great Britain
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Copyright © 2014
Luana Lewis has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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