by Ruth Harrow
Nicole's tip about simply blocking this person seems to have done the trick, but I can't shake the feeling that whoever was behind the username is still out there lurking.
I'm also annoyed that I didn't do it straight away after coming home from that lunch. I could have done without the words of the message burning bright before my eyes every time I close them.
Before I can fret about it further, my thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell.
I get up to answer it, puzzled, as I am not expecting someone at this time; it's early evening and starting to get dark.
The thoughts return of James having lost his key and needing me to let him in.
Now that the automatic timers have been switched off, I find that I am in darkness again when getting carried away working on my computer.
Moving downstairs, I flick on a couple of lights as I go.
Whoever is at the door has taken quite a chance on anyone being home as the house was in total darkness just moments ago.
When I open the door, I am surprised to find myself face-to-face with the last person I expect.
Gemma.
'What are you doing here?' I blurt out, unable to help myself.
She smiles in her smug way as she takes me in. A disdainful look up and down as though she disapproves of every aspect of me.
Her slender figure is robed smartly in the type of black trouser suit she seems to live in. Her light blonde hair is cut perfectly neat in an overgrown pixie style that suits her smooth round face. Pale pink lipstick adorns her perfect lips adding to my idea of her as an overgrown fairy.
It is obviously the end of her working day, but Gemma stands before me as immaculate as if she was just stepping out the door on her way to work.
The light around us is fading rapidly and the solar lamps lining the driveway spring on.
'Hello, Heather.' She smiles more widely, exposing neat white teeth. 'I'm looking for James.'
'James?'
She smiles more widely, as though sharing a private joke with herself. 'Yes, James. He does still live here, doesn't he?'
My face burns hot. 'Yes, of course he does. What do you want him for?'
She raises a thick paper file in explanation. 'I need him to sign these forms but haven't been able to catch him at the office for a while. Is he around?'
She steps forward and peers over my shoulder, as though my husband is hiding behind me in the hall.
'No. Not at the moment, I'm afraid. He's actually away on a business trip. I would have thought you would have known that since you work in nearby offices.'
'The same office,' she corrects.
'James told me you had been promoted somewhere else a couple of years ago?'
Her smirk returns to her fair cheeks and she makes no attempt to hide it. 'No, I've worked in the same department forever. I was promoted as James's supervisor two years ago. Perhaps that's why there seems to be some... confusion?'
I pause. 'Well, if you're his supervisor, then shouldn't you know where he is? He's in Walsall at a training seminar.'
A frown causes creases to erupt on the crest of her perfect face. 'No, that trip was cancelled weeks ago... We've already allocated the funds somewhere else.'
There is an awkward moment of silence where Gemma glances behind her at the driveway; it is empty apart from her sleek blue Jaguar parked beside my own Hyundai.
Her fair-hair is shorter yet more elegant than I have ever seen it; it flicks casually as she turns her head back to face me.
'Heather, do you think I could come in for a while and wait for James to get home? I'd like to send these off tonight, if that's OK?'
She moves forward slightly and I find my hand automatically pulls the front door nearer to me so that my body fills the gap – a gesture that doesn't go unnoticed.
'Look, I'm kind of busy at the moment, Gemma. Why don't you just leave the forms at the office and James will get to them when he can. OK?'
'I'd rather not, Heather. I've been putting off sending them for too long now. I really need to get James's signature on these soon so they can be processed. It's just that I seem to keep missing him during working hours. You understand, don't you?'
'Um, sure. Why don't you leave them with me then and I'll get him to sign them as soon as I can?'
There is a moment of hesitation. 'Honestly, Heather, it would be much better if I could take them straight off after they've been signed. It's getting quite urgent now. I've got head office practically climbing up my back about it.'
'James won't be back for a while,' I say, firmly. 'He texted me not long ago to say he's helping a friend out with a plumbing crisis.'
I'm grateful to Lisa for inspiring my quick excuse.
'James did? He was always useless at that sort of thing when we were together...'
'People change,' I say shortly. 'Anyway, I think you'll have a very long wait if you come in now. Maybe try calling him yourself. You do have his number, don't you?'
'Every time I've tried ringing him lately, it just goes through to voicemail. I get the feeling he is trying to avoid me. I haven't seen much of him since he came back from annual leave.'
I stare at her blankly.
'You did know he took annual leave, didn't you? That's why I haven't seen him around the office for so long, I guess...'
'Of course. Look, Gemma, you're honestly best trying harder to catch James at work.'
'Right, I see,' she sighs, shuffling around unnecessarily with the file in her hands.
I'm eager to see her moving towards her car before I close the front door.
'Heather, I feel a bit silly for asking, but do you mind if I pop in for a sec to use your loo?'
'What?'
'I feel ridiculous for asking – and I wouldn't if I wasn't desperate, but I've been driving around all afternoon chasing up lots of loose ends. And your house is a bit out the way out here isn't it?'
I stare at her.
For a brief moment, I thought I detected the hint of a threat in those words. It occurs to me all of a sudden how much taller she is than me, especially since she stands on my slate driveway heeled and I'm here barefoot. I know that under her suit-jacket, her arms are toned and not at all soft like mine.
I wrap my draping cardigan around myself, more aware than ever of how out of shape I feel.
'Do you mind?'
She obviously can tell I do mind, but I step back reluctantly to let her in anyway. I feel greatly like my personal space is being invaded. Particularly as she reaches out and squeezes my forearm gently as she passes.
'Thanks, Heather. I'll just be a sec,' she hisses softly as she heads up the stairs.
My mouth opens, about to call the directions after her to the bathroom. But she jogs up the stairs determinedly – a woman who clearly knows where she is going.
I guess she must have used the bathroom at James's birthday party, after all.
In the living room downstairs, I hover around uncomfortably – a stranger in my own home as I await Gemma's return.
I listen intently, somehow terrified she has found her way out of the bathroom and ventured into other rooms upstairs.
Or perhaps she stands a floor above me, writing another message on the mirror as a prank. She seems to revel in her own sense of humour.
I pull my phone from my pocket, considering calling James's number as his colleague descends the stairs to appease her over the forms.
The flushing of the toilet and pipes bursting to life causes me to quickly slip my phone away again.
I move over to the lounge doorway as Gemma jogs back down the stairs, padded breasts straining against her blue shirt.
'That feels better...'
She trails off as her focus shifts somewhere over my shoulder. I glance around and see she has spotted the stain on the carpet.
She catches my gaze unwittingly and tears her eyes away, but it's too late – she isn't fast enough in hiding her initial reaction.
'Well, I'd best be off then
,' she says briskly. 'If James really isn't here...'
From the front door, I watch her trot over to her Jaguar. She has a confident walk, always, almost a strut. But there is something unsure about the look she gives me through the windscreen as she starts the engine and turns around, disappearing around the hedgerow and out of sight.
28
I realise I should probably do something about the stained carpet. All along I have left it as a reminder.
Proof James was ever here.
Now though, I can't get the look Gemma gave me as she spotted the patch of scarlet out of my head.
After rummaging around in the linen cupboard, I find an old greying tablecloth I haven't used since before we moved to this house.
I spread it out over the stained carpet around the fireplace, tucking it under the armchair.
It looks a little untidy but will do for now.
By the time I am finished, darkness has well and truly settled in. I move through the house, shutting curtains, blinds and flicking on the rest of the lights.
A new notification causes my phone to buzz in my jeans pocket. I pull it out to find a direct message on Instagram from hare_raiser279 – an unfamiliar username.
Not unusual, I often have new users ask me all sorts of questions relating to my blog. So I tap the button to read it, only to find a two-line message.
All by yourself, Heather?
Stop pretending.
29
Before
When the doorbell rings, I get up excitedly and peer through the front bedroom window. In the driveway, an Interflora van is parked at an angle.
I descend the stairs to find that James is shutting the front door to a 'cheers, mate,' from the delivery driver.
James looks over me, his arms full of several bunches of flowers. Irritation burns in his features. He looks overwhelmed amidst the many pink and purple flower heads.
'You're expecting these then, I take it?'
'Yes. I ordered them for the post I'm writing today.'
'Right, of course you are. You don't have a secret admirer I don't know about then...?'
'Don't be silly, James,' I say, taking them off him. 'They're just props.'
'They won't have been cheap,' he says, brushing his fingers over the tops of the two-dozen pink roses heads in my arms.
I shrug, carrying my new acquisitions to the kitchen. 'My blog makes enough money to cover the cost on its own. Don't worry about it. And anyway, we can enjoy them in the house for a while after I've finished taking photographs.'
James lets out a low breath behind me in the doorway. 'You know I don't like having fresh flowers around, Heather. The smell is awful – takes me right back to when Dad died... You do know that's why I've never bought you flowers, don't you? I just think it's more romantic to not give your wife something that reminds you of death so much.'
'Yes, you've mentioned it before. Your father was so popular that your house was full of flowers after he died. But I bet your mother wasn't sent roses, was she? It's usual to send lilies or something like that. I think you just need to have a better attitude. Change your mindset a little. I might be handling flowers more in the future.'
I see James shake his head and cross his arms across his chest. The wall I have come up against is almost palpable.
I take out the new crackle-glass vase I bought yesterday and add water from the tap.
This sink is so plain and boring. I want to get something that makes more of a statement.
'Didn't people send flowers when your parents died?' James asks, still not taking a single step into the room.
'I don't really remember,' I shrug, keeping my back firmly on my husband. It's easier to tell a lie when he isn't looking at me imploringly with those deep-blue eyes of his. There are so many days I wish I hadn't told the untruth in the first place. But I can't be certain he would have loved me the same way if he knew the reality.
'It is not a time I like to think about,' I say.
'Well, that is what it is like for me. Except I have to live here in it. Don't I get a say on what comes into my own house? Sometimes I just feel like a guest in your dream home. I let you do whatever you want, usually. Decorate it however you like, just get some artificial flowers, perhaps. Anything, just as long as it doesn't have that – that smell.'
A sigh leaves me, and I feel my shoulders sink a little. 'James, I'm sorry, but you are just going to have to try and get over it. This is my home too.'
30
For what feels like the hundredth time, my fingers swipe over the screen, bringing up the sinister new message from hare_raiser279 again.
All by yourself, Heather?
Stop pretending.
The words, Stop pretending gleam out at me from the screen of my phone.
My stomach clenches when I consider what they mean by that. Should I consider calling the police?
The message came so shortly after I had said goodbye to Gemma. Had someone been watching the house? Our interaction?
My phone buzzes with a call from Nicole overlapping the Instagram window.
I quickly snatch up the present on my hallway table as I dash towards the front door.
I pause to give my reflection a once over and even though I'm conscious I've applied too much makeup in an attempt to hide how tired and stressed I look, I leave anyway.
On Nicole's doorstep, I take a deep breath and glance down at the carefully chosen present again. I'd spent hours scouring Selfridges in the quest to find the perfect gift for Lilly.
Gift-buying for children is perhaps the most stressful type. Even though I had put a lot of thought into the perfume-making set and wrapped it immaculately in pink paper, finished with a fuchsia bow, I'm not sure a seven-year-old would necessarily appreciate the gesture.
The front door opens and a flurry of activity and children's voices reaches my ears.
'Heather, there you are!' Nicole pulls me into a much tighter hug than usual as if clinging on for dear life.
She pulls me inside and shuts the door behind me. 'You said you would be here forty-minutes ago. I was starting to think you weren't going to turn up like last year!'
'Don't be silly,' I say, handing her the gift for her to add to the cascading pile on the table in Nicole's cramped hallway. 'I just lost track of time, that's all.'
'Well, you're here now,' Nicole says, leading me through to the kitchen which is already overrun with used paper cups and plates with crushed Cheesy Wotsits and half-eaten biscuits. 'And don't think you are going to sneak off early with a headache or something, either. We are in this together.'
I laugh. 'Why did you even agree to host Lilly's party, Nic? You are getting so stressed out about it.'
'It seemed like a great idea at the time. But Jeff and Her Ladyship are in a right foul mood with each other today. They keep snapping and it's so awkward. I'm trying to distract Lilly from it.'
'I thought they couldn't keep their hands off each other?'
'They seemed to have gone back to their usual selves again. Nina, bless her – she's Lilly's best friend's mum – she's in the living room now, taking charge of party games.' Nicole reaches up on a high shelf and drains a glass of something that I am sure isn't lemonade.
'Starting early, are we? It's not that bad, Nic. Look, I promise I won't try and bunk off early, OK?'
She shakes her head and places her empty glass in the already full sink. 'It's only Schloer. Do you want some? Help yourself, it's in the fridge.'
I pour myself some in a paper cup and slip into the lounge where a trendy blonde woman in her forties wearing a silk scarf leads an enthusiastic game of pass-the-parcel.
I wave at Lilly to let her know I'm here and she waves back excitedly, her dark eyes gleaming at me.
A few other parents are seated around the room, scrolling through their phones oblivious to where they are and only looking up to humour his or her child every now and then.
After a few minutes, I slip back into the kitchen to f
ind that Nicole has been joined by her brother, Jeff.
He spins around when he sees me enter and his face cracks into a grin. 'Howdy, Stranger!'
Before I can respond, I am being pulled into a tight bear hug I can't easily get out from.
The moment drags on a fraction too much as I seem to have to wait for it to be over. Over his shoulder, Nicole looks impatient, shaking her head apologetically at me.
Jeff finally pulls back, leaving the smell of whisky in the air between us. 'Long time, no see, Heather. Where have you been hiding?'
'Nowhere in particular, Jeff. Just been really busy with work and things...'
'Oh yeah, You were in Italy recently, weren't you?'
'Yes, in December on a work trip.'
Jeff's cheeks have a ruddy tinge to them that is unrelated to the vague warmth of the room. His blurry eyes keep flicking up and down my body.
I fold my arms across my chest as subtly as I can and bitterly regret not dressing down more for the occasion; instead, I opted for one of the new items I had chosen a few weeks ago when I was thinking of James – a pretty, but low-cut floral dress.
Now that another man appreciates it instead, I feel a hot swoop of annoyance and my cheeks flush with the heat of it.
Jeff is blissfully unaware that behind him, his sister glares at the back of his head.
'So, Heather, what kept you, earlier?' Jeff asks, looking around and picking up his glass tumbler that definitely does not contain soft drink.
'I was just... something came up.' I glance at Nicole and she understands that I have more I could tell her.
Jeff beats her to it. 'Did you get more messages from your stalker?'
'What?'
Nicole shakes her head. 'Heather doesn't want to talk about that now. Do you, Heather? Like I said before, Jeff, it's probably just some troll messing around.'
A little fizzy drink runs over my hand from where I squeeze the paper cup too hard; it stings the skin a little.