by A. E. Radley
Verity looked furious. Katie swore she saw a glint in her eye the same shade of red as her cocktail dress.
“Would it have killed you to be polite for a few seconds?” Verity demanded.
“Might have; I suppose we’ll never know.” Katie leaned on the door.
“Refusing to shake Alan’s hand,” Verity continued. “I’ve never been so embarrassed.”
“Oh, I’m sure you have.”
“Alan’s right, of course. I should make a complaint to your landlord about the damn bike. And the noise.”
“Noise?” Katie laughed. “How about you up there murdering Beethoven? I’ve heard five-year-olds play better. You have flat fingers, and I bet you’re sitting too close.”
“Flat fingers?” Verity questioned, clearly wondering if it was an insult that had gone over her head.
Katie rolled her eyes. “Never mind. The fact is, you’re just as noisy as I am. We share a house. Live with it.”
“I don’t want you to ever speak to my guests again,” Verity demanded.
“That’s what I was trying to do,” Katie argued.
“Or Callum!” Verity added.
“Oh, okay, I’ll cancel our cinema trip next week. He’ll be disappointed, but I did tell him that Rambo would be a little too violent for him,” Katie quipped. “Anything else? Or can I slam my door now?”
Verity didn’t have a reply to that. Her face was red, and she let out a huff.
“We must do this again sometime,” Katie said before closing her door.
“Batshit crazy,” she mumbled.
She heard Verity’s door close and her climbing the stairs, with considerably more stomp than usual.
“Childish.”
Katie went back into the dining room and continued to watch the documentary. At the end of the episode, she started another one. Only then did she realise that she was still sitting on the uncomfortable dining room chair when she could have been lounging in bed.
She picked up the laptop and went to her bedroom. She lay down, put her laptop on her legs, and watched another episode. Documentaries were like a drug to Katie; she loved to find out how other people thought about things, especially when they were exciting, creative types who had somehow broken through barriers.
She was so engrossed in the second episode that she jumped half a metre in the air when something touched her foot. She scrambled off the bed to safety and looked back to see Kitty deep asleep in the rumpled mess of Katie’s duvet, stretching out with all four legs.
“You little shit,” Katie said as her heart rate started to come down. “How on earth did you get in here? How long have you been in here?”
She searched her mind; she hadn’t ducked in when she got home. Or when she’d had her altercation with Verity.
“The window,” she remembered.
That had been nearly an hour and a half ago. Katie scooped Kitty up into her arms, walked out of her bedroom, opened the front door, and rang Verity’s doorbell. Kitty leaned into the hold, thinking she was being cuddled rather than about to be returned to her rightful owner.
Katie looked down and realised she had no shoes on; the cold of the tiled vestibule easily rose through her socks. She rang the bell again and thumped on the door for good measure.
She saw the light of the stairwell turn on and heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs.
“Yes?” Verity asked through the door.
“It’s me, open the door,” Katie demanded, in no mood to play games.
Verity opened the door. Katie’s breath caught for a second. The older woman was wearing a lace nightie with a matching, short robe over the top. Katie’s eyes were drawn to the plunging neckline. When she tried to stop looking at that, she ended up staring at long, slim legs instead.
Katie thrust Kitty out. “Here’s your cat. She didn’t get the memo.”
Verity took Kitty, and Katie hurried away. The moment her door was closed, she leaned against it and let out a deep breath. Verity had looked good, far too good for an evil old ogre. And Katie had stared and then stared some more.
She hated herself for it.
One, because she hated Verity. And, two, because she hated it when people stared at women. It was bad manners.
Still, Verity already thought she had no manners, so there was no great loss there.
She licked her lips, stared at the ceiling, and counted to ten. The sooner the day was over, the better.
12
A Knock on the Door
Verity sipped her tea, petted Kitty, and let out a contented sigh. It had been a good day. She’d practiced her knitting that morning. It was April, and she was on track to learn the skill and then give everyone knitted gifts for the following Christmas.
Then she’d made herself a delicious lunch, a treat of a homemade eggs Benedict. After that, she’d picked Callum up from school and taken him to the park for an hour before dropping him at home.
She’d stopped into a local cafe for a delicious chicken salad for dinner and then gone home to curl up on the sofa with a cup of tea, some fluffy company by her side, and a good book in her hand.
This was why she had taken early retirement. Well, maybe not exactly the reason, but this was what she had expected her life to look like when she retired. Being a lady of leisure was surely everyone’s dream, and she was living it.
Her days were her own. She chose what to do and when. No more getting up at six in the morning and getting home at anywhere between six and eleven at night. No more drinks receptions with drunk clients at all hours. No more long lunches that were supposed to include work but never did.
Now Verity could master all the hobbies she had never had time for. The knitting was harder than she’d first thought, but she’d master it in time. And she needed a piano tutor because the instrument was an absolute beast. But she had the time, and the determination, to learn it.
The doorbell rang.
She looked at her watch, surprised that it was approaching seven in the evening. She stood up, careful not to jostle Kitty too much, and went to the stairwell. A parcel was due the next day, but it could well be early. The delivery drivers seemed to be a rule unto themselves, never delivering when expected.
She opened the door, and a wave of cold rushed over her. Two police officers stood in front of the door, solemn and serious expressions on their faces. She wondered what on earth had happened and to whom. She mentally ticked off her friends and family, wondering what terrible news was about to be delivered.
“Sorry to bother you,” the female officer said. “I’m WPC Kinnock, this is PC Lynam. Do you know the occupant of the downstairs apartment?”
Verity almost sagged in relief. It was nothing to do with her or her family; it was something to do with Katie.
Hardly a surprise. Delivering food? More like drugs, Verity suspected.
“No,” she said simply, not wanting to get involved in whatever mess Katie was embroiled in.
“Ah,” WPC Kinnock said. “Do you know if she has any family?”
Verity paused. Maybe Katie wasn’t in trouble after all. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.
Verity shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t know much about her at all. May I ask what’s happened?”
“She was in an accident. She was mugged, for her bike,” WPC Kinnock explained. “She’s in hospital.”
Verity stared in shock. “Hospital?”
“Yes, St. Margaret’s. She was very lucky. She’s in surgery, so we’re seeing if there’s any family. Does she live alone? Any boyfriend?”
“She lives alone,” Verity said. “I don’t know of any friends or family; I’ve not seen anyone visit.”
The police officers seemed slightly deflated at the news.
“I’m sorry I can’t be more help,” Verity said.
“Okay, well, thank you for your time. Sorry to bother you,” PC Lynam replied as both officers turned to leave.
“What will you do now?” Verity a
sked.
WPC Kinnock turned. “Not a lot we can do, I’m afraid. We don’t have the resources to hunt for the family of everyone who is in an accident. We do what we can.”
“Of course,” Verity replied. She couldn’t imagine the logistics involved in having to locate next of kin for everyone who got in an accident.
“Thank you again,” WPC Kinnock said.
“No problem,” Verity said softly as they left.
She closed the door and slowly climbed the stairs. Her mind was swimming, her thoughts confused. Katie was in hospital, in surgery.
It must be serious.
Mugged for her bike. The bike that had caused so much anger between them. The bike that Katie was so desperate to protect.
Verity swallowed. The bike was akin to a large target painted on Katie.
She walked into the living room and simply stood in the middle of it, unsure of what to do next. Katie was in hospital. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. The whole thing seemed ludicrous. She’d heard her go out that afternoon. Now she wondered if she’d ever be back.
Questions floated around Verity’s mind. Did Katie have any family? How bad were her injuries? Would she even survive?
She sat on the edge of the sofa, staring into nothing.
They’d left things on a bad note a few nights before and had ignored one another since the night of the dinner party. Now, she didn’t know what to do.
“She’ll be fine,” she told herself, standing up and shaking the distressing images from her head. “She’s a strong woman. Nothing to do with you either.”
She snatched up her book and settled down to read it again. Her eyes followed the sentences along the page, but nothing went in.
She lowered the book.
“She’s probably alone,” she mumbled to herself. “No, she’s almost certainly alone.”
She looked at Kitty. “What should I do?” she asked the sleeping lump.
Kitty didn’t reply, move, or acknowledge her in anyway. Verity swallowed hard.
She knew what she needed to do.
13
No More Bike
Katie didn’t know exactly when she had woken up. She didn’t really know that she hadn’t been awake. She felt like she existed in a haze. Everything was slightly out of reach, dangling in front of her but disappearing before she had a chance to catch hold of it.
She felt as if there was something very important that she was forgetting, but any time she tried to focus on it, she couldn’t.
She was too exhausted to care.
She’d been asleep before, she realised. Perhaps many times. She knew there was a very real chance she’d easily drift off again, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay awake; it felt important that she did.
She shifted her body ever so slightly and discovered discomfort throbbing somewhere that she couldn’t quite place. She moved again and found she could then pinpoint exactly where the pain was. Her stomach, on the right-hand side. She lifted her hand to touch it, to soothe it, but found she couldn’t.
Trying to move was extremely difficult. It was as if the impulse from her brain wasn’t quite making it to her hand. Everything felt heavy and dulled, like moving through swampy water.
It was only then that she realised she still hadn’t opened her eyes. With effort, she prised her eyelids apart and squinted. A slightly discoloured, plain white ceiling was all she could see. It took her a while to realise she was laying down.
She tried to sit up but quickly found that was impossible.
“Oh, you’re awake. Hello, my dear.”
Katie struggled to see where the voice had come from. It sounded friendly enough, female, older, slightly accented, but she wasn’t sure from where.
A face appeared as the woman leaned over her. She looked kind, but no nonsense. She was in her sixties and wore a blue top that Katie registered as something she ought to recognise.
“I’m Sue, and you’re Katie, right?”
Katie licked her dry lips, stunned by how dry they were. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her entire throat was dry. She swallowed a few times.
“Yes, I think so,” she finally said.
Sue smiled. “Take your time. It will all come back to you soon enough.”
Katie trusted her. She wasn’t sure why, but she did.
“I’m sorry, where am I?” Katie asked.
“You’re in hospital. Do you remember what happened?” Sue asked.
The blue top suddenly made sense to Katie, her sluggish brain putting two and two together and understanding that Sue was a nurse.
Sue disappeared from her vision, and Katie heard her moving around.
She tried to focus, wondering why she was in the hospital. She remembered something, but it wasn’t a memory so much as a weird feeling. The more she focused, the further away the memory seemed to get.
Eventually, she tried to relax and clear her brain. Chasing after answers was exhausting and didn’t seem to be working.
As soon as she stopped hunting for the memory, something flashed into her consciousness.
“My… bike?” she wondered out loud.
“That’s right,” Sue said.
“Someone stole my bike,” Katie remembered. Her heart rate spiked as she remembered a flash of sharp metal. “They had a knife.”
“They did,” Sue confirmed.
Katie’s brain pulled the data together. “They stabbed me.”
“I’m afraid they did. You’ve had surgery, and you’re going to be just fine,” Sue reassured her. “Someone at the scene performed first aid, and you were brought here very quickly. The doctor will be in later, but he’ll basically tell you that you’re very lucky and the knife missed everything important.”
Katie found it difficult to process. She’d been mugged, at knifepoint, and stabbed. Someone had actually stabbed her, not caring if she lived or died.
“Can I sit up?” she asked.
Sue’s face appeared, with a thoughtful expression. “Well, you can, but I don’t know if you want to. You’ll still be quite sore for a while.”
“I’d like to sit up,” Katie repeated.
She felt anxious, and sitting still, unable to see anything other than the ceiling, wasn’t helping her at all.
It took a while, and a lot of help from Sue, but Katie was eventually sitting up and resting on a pile of pillows behind her. The pain in her side had stung fiercely, but Katie tried to ignore it. She wanted to be up, able to see, ready to fight.
It sounded ridiculous, like someone who has to put shoes on when they see a spider in the house. It was an irrational behaviour, but one that Katie wasn’t going to ignore despite the pain.
She was in a private room, which surprised her. She’d heard tales of NHS overcrowding and expected to be on a gurney in a corridor.
“Someone is here to see you, if you’re up for a visitor?” Sue asked after helping Katie with some water.
“To see me?” Katie questioned.
“Yep. Verity someone?”
Katie stared at Sue in confusion.
“You know her?” Sue asked.
“I do. She’s here?”
“She’s in the waiting room. I told her it might be a while, but she said she’d wait.”
Katie wondered what on earth Verity was doing there. Perhaps Katie had been too loud when she’d been mugged and she’d come to complain. She grinned at the thought.
“Should I send her in?” Sue asked.
“Might as well,” Katie agreed.
Katie pulled her sheet a little to tug out the creases. She was far too confused and weak to come up with a convincing reason as to why Verity was in the waiting room of the hospital. How did she even know Katie was there?
She closed her eyes and willed herself to remain calm. If she started asking questions, she didn’t know where it would end. She felt like she could fly out of control at any moment.
The door opened, and Verity walked in, dressed in clothes sm
arter than Katie would wear to work in an office. Verity always dressed smartly. Even when she wore jeans it was clear they were jeans that cost more than Katie’s monthly food budget.
Verity looked at her with a solemn expression. Katie couldn’t meet her eyes and instead looked down at her feet, sticking up from under the sheet like two shark fins. She was suddenly aware of how stupid feet in bed looked.
“How are you feeling?” Verity asked, taking a seat next to the bed.
“Not great,” Katie admitted.
Sue came back into the room and looked at a chart that hung on the end of Katie’s bed.
“I was sorry to hear about what happened,” Verity said after a moment of silence.
“At least I won’t be parking the bike in the garden anymore,” Katie muttered.
“I’d rather a hundred bikes in the garden than see you like this,” Verity said, a quiet determination in her tone.
Katie looked up at her.
Verity was looking right back at her, a softness to her expression that Katie had never seen before.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” Verity asked after another period of silence, one which Katie realised she should have filled.
The pain medication and disorientation were still causing a mussiness she wasn’t comfortable with.
“No.”
Verity looked surprised. “No one?”
Katie gently shook her head. “No, no one.”
Sue quietly left the room.
“I presume you don’t have any pets that need feeding?” Verity asked.
“No.”
“Any plants that need watering?”
Katie shook her head again.
The door opened quickly, and a man walked in with a tray in his hand. He put it on a table and walked out again.
Verity looked at it and then raised her eyebrow. “Looks like dinner is served.”
Katie’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. She had no idea when she had last eaten. She had no idea what the time was at all.
“What time is it?”
Verity regarded a wristwatch. “Ten to ten.”
Katie looked at her meaningfully.