I look at her, dumbfounded. My first thought is that she’s doing well to remember Immy’s name, since she’s struggled to remember even my name lately. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’ She must have seen them leaving to go to the station.
‘I saw her running away from the house as if her life depended on it. Poor girl. She looked petrified. Poor old Justin couldn’t keep up. She can run really fast. Whoosh.’ Hattie makes a gesture with her arm as if showing me the speed of whoever she’s talking about. Or is this just another figment of her distorted imagination? ‘She ran up the drive. Justin had to jump in his car to go after her.’ She laughs as if what she thought she saw was a game.
‘You must be mistaken,’ I reply soothingly. ‘Immy left last night. She had an emergency at home.’
‘Really?’ She takes a sip of her tea, her eyebrows arched.
‘Justin gave her a lift to the station. Hattie, look at me. You must’ve been dreaming.’
‘Really?’ she repeats. ‘She never said goodbye.’
‘She did. She sent her love to you.’
I nod. My hand on the table is shaking. Her level of detail is disturbing. But then I remind myself we’ve been here so many times before. I recall coming home from a hospital appointment one day, when an agency carer was looking after her, and Hattie told me one of her friends had visited. She described their conversation, how they had talked about the good old days, catwalks they’d modelled on, shows they’d seen in London. But there hadn’t been any such visitors. More than that, the friend she was talking about had passed away three years ago.
This is different, though.
‘Oh. A dream,’ she says. ‘Maybe.’ She pauses. ‘It seemed so real, though.’
I get up and walk slowly to the kitchen sink, empty the remains of my water and wash up the glass. I look towards the stables, Justin’s office and the glass-fronted gym. Justin is not in there. The treadmill faces the lake, so I’d see him if he were there. He must’ve gone up to his office first. But when I look, the light isn’t on. His office is too dark to work without it. Damn him. He promised he’d be nearby in case I needed him. Damn, damn, damn him. There is always something with that man – always another angle. I berate myself. Immy is gone, and we must try to get things back to normal. I scoff. What is normal?
He must have gone for a run outside. I scan the perimeter of the lake. Nope, I’d be able to see him. And he’s nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he decided to go down the lane instead. He hasn’t done that for ages. He says he doesn’t like leaving us.
But he did last night.
Hattie calls across the kitchen, repeating herself as if she’s reading my thoughts, feeling my unease. ‘But I swear I saw Justin zoom off in that flash car of his. Chasing after her, he was.’
49
SCARLETT
The fear takes hold, filling me to the brim. I let out a faint whimper.
Justin’s voice echoes around the stables, addressing this Phoebe, whoever she is. ‘Good. Shall we dive straight in.’ It’s a statement, not a question.
‘Yes, let’s,’ Phoebe says as if she is truly excited. I’m racking my brain for an explanation. She sounds alert, but there’s a tone to her voice. An edge. Or is that an emptiness?
There’s a pause and music starts playing. It’s another of his Chopin pieces. He’s playing it low enough for me to still hear them talking. Justin continues. ‘Where did we leave off last time?’ Papers shuffle and stop. ‘Ah, yes. We spoke at length about your experiences of being homeless. You talked in detail about the changing seasons, and how that affected you both physically and mentally.’
‘Yes. I found the winter particularly hard.’
‘In what way?’
‘Living rough when it’s freezing outside is no fun. But all of it was hell all year round, if I’m honest.’
‘What was the worst?’
‘Not having a regular shower. And I hated being hungry in the middle of the night. That was the worst, really, I guess. The hunger. And worrying if someone was going to steal my stuff. I thought I’d never be happy again.’
‘I’m sure. So, being here, how are you feeling now?’ The question feels loaded.
‘I feel safe. Secure. I don’t like it when you go away for long periods, though. I lose track of night and day. It feels as if you’ve been away for days this time. I really don’t like it, Justin.’
‘It’s all part of the programme, Phoebe. We’ve been through this. It helps you to open up to another dimension of your being. Tell me – when I return. How does that make you feel?’
‘Happy. It makes me feel happy.’
Happy! She believes it, too.I listen as the conversation continues for, I’d guess, twenty minutes. He seems to be conducting some sort of psychological profiling of her. His questions focus on how grateful she should be for him having rescued her, for the support he has given her, as if it’s some sort of ego trip for him. He appears to have complete control over her.
