‘What?’ I said to him, and he punched my leg in response.
‘Little shit,’ I said and pushed him. Not hard, just enough to show him that he was being rude. He stared a few seconds more and then started to cry. The woman finally turned around, and I expected a showdown, but instead, she just screamed at the boy, ‘Get a fucking move on.’
The boy pouted at me, and finally, he went after his mum, stomping his feet. I gave it a few minutes to let them get out of the way before I left, having visions of the woman waiting to have a go at me for assaulting her son.
When I eventually left, I looked around for the Addams family and wondered what time the next bus would be.
And then, I saw him.
My stomach tightened. He was standing in the shadows, smoking, watching. I felt vulnerable there in the dark, the woman and her kids nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was no one else around. Just me and Jacob.
I considered going back inside, asking someone to walk me to the bus stop or even calling a taxi. Maybe Dean could help me. But when I turned around again, Jacob was gone. I looked up and down the street. Nothing. Was I imagining it? Seeing ghosts because I was already wound up?
I stayed where I was a little longer, unsure what to do. And then, I saw movement in the wooded shortcut by the road. I squinted and tried to see what it was, or rather, who it was. Someone was running away through the trees, and I knew it was him.
Before I knew it, I was following, running after him, running to God knows what.
‘Jacob,’ I shouted after him, but he didn’t stop. I kept running, slipping on the wet ground. Finally, I went over on my ankle and dropped to the ground. I could hear my breath, my blood pumping in my ears. But there was no sign of Jacob. He must’ve made it out onto the road.
I held onto my ankle and cursed myself for being so stupid and chasing him, especially into the woods. I looked behind me, wondering whether to keep going or turn back. In the end, I wandered back towards the home, glancing over my shoulder every couple of yards, hobbling on my sore ankle.
I finally made it into the light, and still, there was no one around. I looked up and down the main road. I didn’t think there’d been time for Jacob to disappear completely, and no buses had been past, I was sure of that. So, was he still there, lurking, or had he been a figment of my imagination?
I crossed the road, forcing myself to move faster than was comfortable as I could see a bus approaching in the distance. There was no one else at the bus stop, and I was glad the bus arrived so soon. I was spooked and just wanted to get home.
I wanted to go to the back of the bus, but my ankle was throbbing, so I collapsed on the first seat I found and rested my forehead on the cool window. The bus idled for a few minutes, and I was getting impatient.
Finally, it stuttered to life, and we were moving. I sat up straight, not wanting my head bouncing off the window with every bump in the road. I wiped the condensation away, so as to see more clearly, standing up to look back. We were moving fast – it was difficult to see – yet I was sure now. I was sure Jacob had been there. He’d been waiting outside my Mum’s home. He’d run off into the woods. And now, he was standing by the side of the road, watching me go home.
20
I ran from the bus stop to the front door, getting inside, behind a locked door as soon as I could. All the way home, I’d been thinking about Jacob. Had he really been there, or was I imagining things? I was convinced it was him. Who else would be lurking outside the home? Who else would run once I’d seen them? And then, once I was on the bus, why would anyone else just stand there looking in at me? It had to be him. And yet, I’d run from the bus like a bat out of hell. If Jacob had been standing on that road by the home, there would be no way he could get here before me. If he was there, he wasn’t here.
But I still made sure all the locks were secure and went through the house closing the curtains and blinds, knowing I was losing it. If he was there, he couldn’t be here. I kept telling myself that, forcing myself to calm down.
But…
If I was wrong and it wasn’t Jacob at the care home, it was possible he could be here, somewhere. I stopped and listened, suddenly paranoid someone could be in the house already.
No. There’s no way he could get in. Only by smashing a window and I’d have noticed that by now. So, he wasn’t in the house. Didn’t mean he wasn’t outside, though.
No. He was definitely at the home. I was positive. But maybe he followed me, got the next bus that came along. He couldn’t have got a lift from anyone – who would he possibly call? And a taxi was out of the question, there was no way he could afford it. So, he wasn’t here. Yet.
Unless…
What if it wasn’t Jacob at the home? What if I was imagining things? His disappearing act these past few days could’ve been a way to make me feel safe. I knew I shouldn’t have gone out. I should’ve stayed inside where it was safe, making sure he knew there was nothing he could do to me. I’d let my guard down and look what happened. I didn’t give it enough time. He’d been there all along, just out of view, taking his time so I’d think he’d gone, waiting for me to feel safe enough to leave the house. And then…? What? What would he be waiting for? He didn’t accost me on my way home, he wasn’t waiting on the doorstep to grab me. So what? Was it something else he wanted? Had he been in the house?
I pressed my fingers to my eyes, willing myself to stop. To take a breath.
I walked slowly around the house, checking windows, making sure everything was still there, everything where it should be. I couldn’t see anything out of place, but what did that really mean? Maybe he was careful.
I ran up the stairs again and went into the bedroom. Would this be the place he was most likely to come into? I checked the bed for warmth, like Mum used to do when we came home if she wanted to see if the dog had snuck onto her bed while he was alone. The bed was cool under my hand. If he’d been there, he’d gone a while ago. I stood up straight and then bent again. I pressed my face to the duvet cover and inhaled. If he’d been here, I’d be able to smell him. I’d never forget the way he smelled.
Nothing.
I let out a long breath. I was being ridiculous and I knew it. He couldn’t get in. It was impossible. He hadn’t been here, probably wasn’t at the home, either. It was my imagination. I was unsure about him, wanting to believe he’d gone, but couldn’t be certain, and so, I’d conjured him up. And I needed to stop. He was gone. He’d given up, given in. There was nothing to worry about anymore.
And then, there was a knock at the door.
21
The panic shot through my veins, making me shiver and sweat. I ducked down behind the banister, even though he couldn’t see me from the door, my instinct to survive kicking in.
My hands were shaking, and I wished I hadn’t turned on all of the lights, letting him know I was here like a lighthouse to a ship.
I’d been right. Whether he was there at the home or waiting here all along, I’d been right. And I’d been stupid to leave. Anything could’ve happened. But that was it now. No more going outside. I had enough food to last a little while, and you could do anything online these days. Have anything you want delivered straight to your door. But that would require opening the door.
My brain whirred, trying to think of solutions. I could say I was phobic of people, get them to leave it on the back step where I could grab it quickly once I knew the coast was clear. And what about work? I’d have to get a sick note. There was only so much compassion Janet would have. But again, that would require leaving the house, going to see the doctor. Maybe he could do a house call. Did they still do that? Maybe you had to be old and infirm. But what about other people, the agoraphobics and whatnot? I’d find a way around it, I was sure.
He knocked again, louder this time, harder. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t want to interact, didn’t want him to hear my voice. He didn’t get to do that anymore. Didn’t get to see me, didn’t get to talk to me.
I dropped my hands. He’d stopped knocking. There’d been nothing for a while. No shouting, no anger. I stood up and went into the front bedroom. I pulled back the curtain an inch or two and looked down.
What the hell?
Cathy was standing there, trying to peer in through the living room window, despite the curtain being closed. I let out a breath and removed my grip on the curtain, allowing it to fall back into place.
What the hell was Cathy doing at my house? How did she even find me?
I decided to stay hidden. I didn’t want to talk to her. But the guilt seeped in. What if it was Mum? What if she’d taken another turn for the worse? What if she’d died? Why else would Cathy come here?
I walked to the top of the stairs and looked down. I could still see her silhouette outside, but it looked like she was turning to walk away. It was now or never.
I ran down and opened the door. Cathy turned and looked surprised to see me. ‘I thought you must’ve been out,’ she said, and came back to the door. ‘Sorry if I’m disturbing you.’
‘What’re you doing here?’ I said. ‘Is it Mum?’
‘I wouldn’t normally do this. I’m not supposed to. But I tried to call you. A few times,’ she said. ‘Your mum’s been getting herself worked up again. She’s convinced herself you’re in trouble.’ Cathy’s eyes flicked to the house behind me before focusing back on me. ‘She was trying to get out. She was really wound up, so I said I’d check on you,’ she said. ‘You haven’t been in for a while.’
‘I’ve been there tonight,’ I said.
‘Oh. Good,’ Cathy said, and I could see she was trying to have a look inside, wanting to nose around, wanting to be invited in. I pulled the door closer to my body so she couldn’t see anything at all.
‘Mum was out of it,’ I said. ‘Didn’t even know I was there, never mind whether I was all right. They said she’s got an infection.’
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I’ve not been in today. I hope it’s not too serious.’
‘What’s it to you? You still get paid, don’t you?’ I said, and I knew as soon as I said that it was out of line. I looked at my feet, hoping she’d realise I was just tired, stressed.
‘Well,’ Cathy said, and shuffled her feet. ‘I’d better be off. I just wanted to help put her mind at ease.’ She half turned away and then stopped, looking back at me. ‘Are you all right, Polly?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ I said.
‘It’s just…’ Cathy’s eyes drifted to the living room window and then upwards, as if she was looking for something. ‘Is someone here with you?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Who’d be here?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just–’
‘What?’
Cathy finally looked me in the eye but said nothing for a few moments, and I wondered what she was thinking. Was she really concerned about me? Was that what this was about? Did Mum think I was in danger, had she seen the bruises on my face the other day? Was that why she’d sent Cathy nosing around?
‘Look, I have to go,’ I said to Cathy. ‘Thanks for coming.’ I started to close the door, and Cathy walked off, looking up and down the street as if she didn’t know where she was or where she was going.
But I couldn’t stop wondering. ‘Cathy,’ I shouted. ‘Wait.’
She sighed and turned. ‘What is it, Polly?’
‘What did she say to you?’
‘About what?’
‘About me.’
She looked at her feet, probably cold and wet in her flat, sensible shoes. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. Gibberish, most of it. But she’s obviously worried, wanted to know everything was okay.’
‘But why was she worried?’ I asked.
‘Because she hadn’t seen you for days, I suppose,’ Cathy said.
‘But what did she say, exactly?’
She rolled her eyes this time. ‘I don’t…if you want to discuss this more, can I at least come in?’
I looked behind me. ‘It’s really messy. I’ve just moved in.’
She looked at me like I was something she found on her shoe. ‘Whatever. Goodnight, Polly. See you at the home,’ she said, and turned again.
‘That man,’ I said, and she looked back. ‘The man who came, who upset her. Jacob. He hasn’t been back, has he?’ She came closer again, more interested now.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Cathy said, and waited for me to say more, but I didn’t so she shifted her bag again and nodded goodbye.
‘How did you know where to find me?’ I asked. ‘Mum can’t even tell you my name half the time. How did she tell you my new address?’
Cathy turned once more, sighing loudly, making a point of looking at her watch. ‘Your address is in the file.’
‘Oh,’ I said, vaguely recalling writing it down. ‘Right,’ I said, and she nodded and left. I shut the door and locked up before going back upstairs to the front bedroom, wondering if I was being paranoid.
I looked out from behind the curtain, partly making sure Cathy had gone and partly checking Jacob wasn’t there. The street was empty once Cathy disappeared from view, and I closed the curtains, then went for a shower. I was tired what with everything that’d happened with Mum and Jacob and now Cathy. I needed to eat and to sleep, but my stomach churned, and I wondered if I’d be able to do either. I let the water get really hot before I got in, and straightaway my skin flushed, and I felt dizzy.
What was Mum thinking, asking Cathy to come to my house? Had she even asked, or was it just Cathy nosing around? No, there had to be more to it. I’d known that when I left that day, when I stomped out of her room. I hadn’t wanted to stay and listen, because I was afraid of what would happen. And then, Jacob had shown up at the home, so Mum had sent a spy to check on me. Did she think I was still involved with Jacob? Or was it worse than that?
I ducked my face under the water and held my breath. The water was too hot to stay in very long, so I climbed out, splashing the floor, and stood a moment, enjoying the cool air on my hot skin before wrapping a towel around myself. As I did, there was a noise outside, a bottle being knocked over.
I held the towel tight and ran to the front window, peering out carefully so he wouldn’t see me. I saw the movement next door. Only Ethel still got milk from the milkman, still left empty bottles on her doorstep overnight. Someone was putting it back on the step. I squinted and leaned closer to the window when she straightened herself up.
Cathy.
What was she doing next door?
She shifted her bag on her shoulder and looked up at my house. I ducked down, my heart thumping in my chest. Had she seen me?
I waited a minute or so and then moved slowly, raising my eyes to the bottom of the window. She’d gone. I sat up properly and searched the street for her, but she was nowhere to be seen.
22
I’d gone to bed without eating, too wound up to have an appetite, but, as I soon found out, too wound up to sleep as well. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was being silly, but I couldn’t stop worrying.
I tossed and turned for hours. Jacob was still out there somewhere, and he’d come back eventually, I knew that much. And why was Mum acting so strangely? And Cathy? Why would she be at Ethel’s? What would make her go there?
I was too hot even though it was cold outside. Autumn was turning into winter, and there was more dark than light. But here, inside my house, I was burning up. Maybe I was ill. Maybe I did have a valid reason not to go to work after a
ll.
Work. Stupid, boring work. Another thing getting me down. I needed to find a way out of there too. I needed to stop thinking about the company and start thinking about myself.
I got up and found a book in the spare room, read a few pages, threw it across the room. Tried to sleep again. More thoughts, more pains in my gut. Up again. Down the stairs. TV on. Watched some stupid film that didn’t make sense. Started to drift off. Was woken by people shouting outside. Panicked, thinking it was Jacob. Listened intently for the sound of them leaving. Went back to bed where it was safer. Lay in the dark. Felt too hot. Turned on the light. Cried for a while. Sat by the window, looking through a crack in the curtains. Saw a drunk stagger past and dropped the curtain on autopilot as if every passing person was Jacob. Got back into bed. Lay there in the lamplight staring at the ceiling. Turned off the light. Tried to meditate but couldn’t stop thinking. Cried some more. Sleep. Finally sleep.
I woke at six and felt like hell. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep but not long. I dragged myself up and brushed my teeth, sticky where I hadn’t brushed them the night before. I washed and brushed my hair. Put some clean clothes on. Decided I had to go to work. I felt like I was disappearing.
I was tired. So, so tired.
23
As I left the house, I had a quick look around for Jacob, but he wasn’t there. Part of me was disappointed. I thought about seeing him out there, thought about what I’d do, but the best I could come up with was handing him the keys to the house and telling him we’d sort things out later. It was sort of funny. But not.
At work, I kept my head down, partly because I was tired, but mostly because I was afraid if someone asked me what was wrong, I’d start talking and tell them everything. In the end, no one spoke to me, but I saw the little glances they gave each other. They probably thought something had happened to Mum. And it had, I suppose.
No Place Like Home_a gripping psychological thriller Page 8