Sleep stubbornly refused to come and, however hard she tried to think of something else, her thoughts came returning to Nathan. Who knew her vulnerable spots better than Nathan? That business over the China holiday was a case in point. He must know how much it would cut her to the quick to hear about it. Give him his due, that was probably the reason he was so reticent about mentioning where he and his mother had gone in the first place.
She suddenly went cold. There was another explanation. Could it be he was afraid she might put two and two together? If that was the case, he could so easily have lied. But who else would know the effect those books ordered in her name would have on her? Was it his way of getting his own back for throwing him out? It must have hurt his ego. She had witnessed the golden boy who turned every woman’s head at his lowest. She had made him beg.
The staff car park was crowded when she drove in late next morning. Although Sarah did not have an allocated parking place – a legacy from her predecessor who wanted to show solidarity with the rest of his staff – fine for him as he lived within walking distance and used his car only rarely. Most people respected the fact that she was constantly in and out of the college for various meetings and left a space in the top corner for her.
Now, an ancient green Citroen she didn’t recognise, probably belonging to some visitor, was occupying her slot. By the time she had wound her way around the cars illegally double-parked across the already narrow row ends, she was in a foul mood. It was hard enough trying to ignore the inner turmoil churning away at her and battle through her day as though everything was perfectly normal without things conspiring against her. Eventually she managed to secure a gap half on the churned-up grass verge by the entrance.
She had come away from her last meeting with a large cardboard box full of booklets, and now having to carry it in, didn’t appreciate the extra distance she found herself having to walk. She struggled to find a comfortable position in which to carry box, briefcase, handbag and coat and staggered up the steps into the square at the centre of the complex.
‘Can I help you with that?’ David Ford appeared at her elbow.
The last thing she wanted was to have to make polite conversation, but the box was heavy. Gratefully, she passed it over.
‘Good grief!’ David staggered slightly under the weight.
‘It’s the student guides for the Careers Convention.’
‘How’s all that going?’ She appreciated that he was only making conversation but, shaking off her natural instinct to escape to the solitude of her own room, she forced herself to make use of the opportunity to try to get him involved.
‘Actually, very well. There’s a great deal of business interest and the committee has already persuaded over sixty local and national companies to take part.’ She hoped she did not sound too over the top.
‘It was good last year. My students got a lot out of it, especially those who were not afraid to ask questions; however, I still think we need to do more to promote the college on our own stand. It’s all very well talking to the youngsters from schools and showing them what courses are available but, if we want to attract them, we need to do more than just hand out brochures.’
‘My feelings exactly.’
‘Had you thought of getting the Media department to put together a video showing the students in action? Especially things they don’t do in schools like car maintenance or hairdressing. The Open Days demonstrations are fine but there you only get the pupils who are interested in coming to the college in the first place. The Convention would reach a much larger number.’
‘It’s certainly a thought,’ she replied eagerly. Stupid man, anyone would think he had hit on a totally new idea. ‘We do have several videos but I was wondering if we come up with something a bit more hands on.’
‘Get the visiting kids involved in practical things you mean?’
‘Doing is always more fun than watching.’
‘It would need some thought. The Construction Days we have with the primary school kids laying bricks and bending pipes always go down well.’
‘True. That’s fine here on site but they couldn’t do that in the exhibition hall.’
‘There’s scope with things like computers. We could take the CAD CAM stuff down there.’
It was good to see David so enthusiastic. When he had first joined the college, taking over her old position as Director of Business & Information Studies, he had had a tough time. He had come with impeccable references and an excellent record of achievements as a Head of Department in a Hampshire college and impressed everyone at his interview with his understanding of the issues. However, after a few weeks, it was evident that he was way out of his depth in managing both people and systems.
Sarah had asked Barry to act as his unofficial mentor but it had not worked. In the end, she was the one who had spent hours talking David through the procedures and trying to boost his confidence. As she had seen him at his weakest, perhaps it was only natural that David would now try to keep his distance.
It had taken her months to find just the right place to live after the break-up. Sarah’s life had suddenly been made hollow, and with a hundred-mile-an-hour job, she knew that finding a perfect retreat where she could escape from all the stresses and strains was as important for her sanity as for her material comfort. Discovering the flat had proved the one glimmer of joy in those dark days. Its perfect proportions, from where she could look out over the rolling Wiltshire landscape, had exceeded all her dreams and the enveloping calm she felt take hold of her every time she climbed the stairs each evening helped her to keep things in perspective.
Thanks to some persistent joker, all that was now in danger of being destroyed. As she turned the car round the final bend and caught sight of the dark blue door, she felt the tension beginning to take hold as she prepared herself for what might lie in store.
The unwanted brochures continued to arrive at intermittent intervals. Sometimes nothing for a few days then a shower of them would be sitting on the mat waiting for her. She pushed the door open slowly, spreading the collection in a great arc. As she stared down, a small brown padded envelope, half-hidden under the assortment of gaudy catalogues, shouted up at her. Stifling a sob, she seized them up, tucked the pile under her arm and marched up the stairs straight into the living room. She was tempted to throw the lot straight into the wastepaper bin, but logic said there might be some proper mail amongst all the rubbish. She dumped it all on the chair. She would sort through it later.
She was almost at the door when she changed her mind. Why ruin her whole evening? Do it now and get it over, she told herself firmly.
At least there were no cards saying that the postman had tried to deliver a parcel. Not that she bothered to go and collect them these days. There was always a slight worry at the back of her mind that she would one day ignore something genuine but if she bothered to chase up every package, she would be over at the Sorting Office every other week. After three abortive visits, she had a chat with the woman on the desk and had come to an arrangement. When she posted back the card, the goods would be returned. The woman was probably breaking all the rules but Sarah managed to convince her that she would have an easier life having to face her boss’s wrath rather than Sarah’s.
Sarah picked up the padded envelope. A quick glance at the details in the top corner – A Daily Telegraph Hallmarked Silver Offer – confirmed that it was another of her tormentor’s hoaxes. Presumably, it was a pendant or earrings. She’d seen the advertisement in the previous Saturday’s Colour Supplement. At least it wasn’t the arch top mantel clock pictured on the page opposite. Sarah had counted no less than eight send-no-money-now offers ranging from a patchwork bedcover to a lightweight vacuum cleaner.
The last present Nathan had given her was earrings; real pearls set in delicate gold filigree baskets. Best not to think about it.
With a thick felt tipped pen, she crossed out her name and address and printed, “Return to sender. Goods no
t requested by addressee.” She had long since stopped putting herself to the bother of writing a letter of explanation to the various companies concerned.
Her positive action made her feel better and from idle curiosity, she glanced at each of the clear plastic-wrapped catalogues to see if she remembered seeing them in the paper. Although she always flicked over the advertisements without interest in the past, for the last couple of weekends she’d decided to turn the whole sorry business into a game and try to guess which of many brochure request forms her joker would fill in for her.
‘At least I got those two right,’ she said out loud, dropping “Hardwood Conservatories Giant Sale” and “Exclusive Bedroom Furniture” into the bin. The “Luxury Bathrooms and Saunas” and “Made-to-Measure Curtains” were also fairly predictable but she’d missed the “Roof Renovation System” and the “Up-and-over Garage Doors”. Nathan had excelled himself this time. He must have wasted some time sorting out this little lot.
For all the bravado, the sense of unease in the pit of her stomach would not go away. Had she got it all wrong? However good a reason Nathan might think he had for trying to get his own back, surely he couldn’t be this petty? But who else had any kind of reason? That was what was so unsettling. Not knowing why.
It was not until she got up and went to make herself a cup of tea that she noticed the flashing light on the answerphone. That was all she needed. She walked across to the little table. The red figure seven glowed at her. There was no way that she would have that many genuine calls.
Although the majority of her callers left no message, she had no idea how many had come from her persecutor. There was a good chance that some could be from reps wanting to talk about mundane things such as double-glazing or insurance. Only rarely did her tormentor speak, more often than not all she could hear was heavy breathing or, more frighteningly, the occasional maniacal laugh.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the play button. The first two calls were silent but then a deep, solemn voice filled the room. ‘I’m calling on behalf of James Watson & Partners Funeral Directors. You completed a form requesting details of our Funeral Repayment Plan and our private Chapel of Rest. I will call again…’
Her hand shot to the stop button and it was as though all her internal organs had sudden shrunk to half their normal size. Definitely not Nathan; not even disguising his voice. It could be someone from a genuine company but she had no intention of trying to find out.
Determined not to be cowed, she fast-forwarded to the remaining calls. There was no message on the three that followed and a surge of relief swept over her when she eventually heard Elizabeth’s cheery voice.
‘Do you fancy seeing a film on Friday or shall we just have a meal and a natter? Give me a buzz. Bye.’
So how did it go last night?’ Elizabeth was hardly in the door before she was demanding to know all the details.
‘It was quite good,’ Sarah answered nonchalantly. ‘Not exactly high drama but as farce goes, it wasn’t bad.’
‘Don’t be such a pain!’ she called out puffing up the stairs behind Sarah. ‘That’s not what I’m asking and you know it. How did you get on with the new man?’
‘I keep telling you, he’s just someone I went out with as a friend. That’s all,’ Sarah said firmly.
‘It’s about time you had someone special,’ Elizabeth growled as she followed Sarah into the kitchen.
‘I’m very happy with my life the way it is thank you. It suits me fine and the last thing I need is to complicate it.’ Sarah seized the bottle of wine being held out to her and thrust it into the fridge.
Looking at her friend’s decided frosty expression, Elizabeth dropped the subject, ‘Smells nice, what have we got?’
‘Chicken and cashew nuts in yellow bean sauce.’
It was much later, when they were both more mellow after a good meal and three quarters of the bottle of the passable supermarket plonk Elizabeth had brought, that the subject of Matt came up again.
‘So, are you planning any more trips to the theatre in the near future?’
‘There’s nothing much on except a few musical evenings – seventies’ and eighties’ bands – and the odd third-rate comic. Not my thing. There’s a film we’d both like to see but we haven’t fixed anything definite. I’m planning on going over to Norwich one weekend in the near future.’ Elizabeth raised a sceptical eyebrow, which Sarah ignored. She had no intention of discussing Matt until she’d had more time to consider what part she wanted him to play in her life, if any. ‘It was Nathan who gave me the idea. I told you, he took me out dinner earlier in the week, didn’t I?’
‘You did mention it. So what was Lover Boy after?’
‘Why should he want anything?’ Sarah said more sharply that she’d intended. Elizabeth would always believe the worse where Nathan was concerned. Best not to mention the ridiculous suspicions she’d had. ‘We had a very pleasant evening, as it happens. He’d heard about that toe-rag stealing my handbag and just wanted to know how I was. He was very sympathetic though he did say he thought I needed a break, which is why I’ve decided to go home.’
‘I have to agree with him about that but a weekend with your parents isn’t quite the same as an exotic holiday in the sun.’
‘True. But at least I’ll be able to get away and forget about work for a bit.’
When she recognised his voice on the phone, a strange mixture of relief and excitement swept over her. Sarah did not need and did not want a man in her life; still it was flattering to know that Matt was interested in seeing her again.
He chattered away about how much he had enjoyed their evening at the theatre the previous week. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to try another? The Silbury Players are doing Alan Ayckbourn’s “Round and Round the Garden” at the Arts Centre this week. I know they’re only a local amateur group but they’re not bad and it could be quite fun,’ he finished with a rush.
‘Sounds great,’ she said hoping she did not sound too gushing. She’d seen the play before though naturally didn’t enlighten Matt.
‘Would Friday evening be all right?’
She readily agreed. Although she had toyed with the idea of visiting her parents, nothing had been arranged and she could just as easily go across to Norfolk the following weekend.
‘Will you be able to get tickets at this stage? Friday night is very popular and don’t all the family and friends of the players snap them up?’
‘Actually, I’ve got them already. One of my constables is a member. He’s got a small part and now some mates of his can’t go so he was offering the spare tickets around,’ he admitted sounding somewhat sheepish.
‘Shall we meet in the foyer?’ She was still not ready to have him pick her up at the flat. It would be a step too far, having to invite him in for coffee when he brought her back at the end of the evening.
‘Fine. About twenty past seven? Look forward to it.’ He sounded relieved. Whether that was because she had agreed to go at all or that he appreciated the fact that their friendship was going to proceed slowly, she was not sure.
Chapter 13
She had only been in the flat ten minutes when the doorbell rang.
‘One Hawaiian Pizza with extra topping.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
The gangly youth pushed back his “Pizza Perfection” baseball cap and repeated his statement.
‘But I didn’t order any pizza.’
He studied the details on the till roll stapled to the lid of the box. ‘This is Flat B. Your name, Harcourt?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘however, I can assure you it’s nothing to do with me.’
He glared at her for a moment but when he saw the expression on her face decided that being truculent would get him nowhere.
‘If I have to take it back they’ll make me pay for it. They’ll say it was my fault.’
They stared at each other until the smell of the warmed fruit and melted cheese wafted across and began to act
ivate Sarah’s taste buds. He was probably telling the truth. ‘Then it’s lucky for you that ham and pineapple is my favourite. You’ll have to wait while I go and get some money.’
As she walked back upstairs, she told herself to look on the bright side. This little trick had misfired. It had at least saved her the bother of sorting out something for tea. Unfortunately, it was not so easy to shrug off her misgivings. Surely this relentless drip-feed of petty inconveniences was more than someone with a warped sense of humour? It was fast becoming a sustained campaign of persecution. Perhaps she should mention it to Matt. It would not do much for her image as a capable, independent woman. She would have to find the right moment to drop it into the conversation.
Flicking up the lid, she pulled off a chunk of pineapple. Who else, other than Nathan, knew of her weakness for Hawaiian Pizza? Don’t even go there, she told herself firmly. Stop making mountains out of molehills.
Sarah never looked forward to the monthly faculty meetings. Though generally without incident, they were never friendly affairs. Each of the directors tended to regard the others as possible opponents, taking more than their share of the ever-dwindling resources. The only thing that seemed to unite them was their suspicion of her. Although she got on tolerably well with each of them individually, as soon as they collected round the table, they closed ranks as if she was some sort of enemy. It was difficult enough trying to carry on at work as though nothing was happening without having to keep the petty rivalries and point scoring under control, or stroking egos in order to get them to come round to her way of thinking.
All in the Mind Page 8