‘No worries. I’ll let you go,’ I say, sensing she wants to end the call.
She says goodbye and hangs up.
‘Who was that?’ Geoff asks.
‘A surgeon I know from the Churchill Hospital. She went out on a Tinder date. I was checking she got home okay,’ I say, walking into the bathroom. I'm surprised to see my cheeks are still slightly pink from the almost-kiss with Dario.
‘How was the party?’ Geoff asks, coming in for a pee. I hate it when he does this. Why can't he wait until I've finished, or at least go first?
‘It was good,’ I say, wiping the make-up from my face. ‘How was your evening?’
‘Boring, nothing on the box.’
‘Oh,’ I say, as he leaves the room.
I automatically wipe his pee drips from the loo, then return to the bedroom and put on my nightdress.
‘I'm on a day shift tomorrow,’ I say. ‘I should be home by six.’
‘Great,’ he says, climbing into bed. Within minutes, he's asleep. I try to read my book. My mind is on Gil. But I can’t put my finger on what it is that’s bothering me.
Chapter Thirteen
Joanna
Ihear movement outside the door. I look at the clock. It's seven fifteen p.m.
He's late. I step away from the door as instructed and wait. The door opens a crack.
‘Are you standing back?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’
He's dressed entirely in black. A black jumper, black jeans and a black balaclava. All I can see are his eyes, which are a warm brown. I look into them, trying to gauge if they are kind or evil. I can't tell. His lips belong to a young person. His body is well-muscled, suggesting he works out regularly at the gym.
He's holding a plastic tray. On it is a bread roll and a foil dish of something hot. It smells like fish. There's another jug of water and two boxes of tablets: one of paracetamol and another of ibuprofen. He tells me to move farther back and places the tray on the table.
‘Fish pie,’ he says. ‘I got two lots of painkillers. I didn't know which you preferred.’
I don’t answer.
He then places a photo – the photo of Joel that I keep in my handbag – on the table beside the tray, and I feel sure my heart stops.
‘What have you done—’ I begin, but he holds up a hand to stop me.
‘I thought you’d like it, is all.’
I want to say thank you, but I can’t bring myself to. ‘Why are you doing this?’ I ask, ashamed that my voice shakes. ‘You know you won't get away with it.’
He gives a half-shrug and backs away, his eyes not leaving mine. He pushes the key into the lock, pulls open the door and then he's gone.
I ignore the fish pie and sugar-free jelly dessert, and swallow three painkillers. My relief that he showed no sign of planning to sexually abuse me has me falling to my knees, sobbing.
Surely, the police will find me soon?
The lingering smell of the fish pie makes me realise I'm hungry. At first, I fiercely wanted to leave it and make a dramatic show of starving myself. But I know that won't help Joel, so I wolf down the pie. Afterwards, I see that it was purchased from Waitrose.At least he has good taste.
A while later, the headache begins to ease, and I decide to make another search of the room in case I missed something the first time. By the time it gets to nine p.m., I'm exhausted. I clean my teeth, almost mechanically. There's no mirror, so I can’t see how I look. I wash my face with the soap provided, climb into the bed fully clothed and clutching the photo of Joel, lie awake, staring around me until the lights go off, plunging me into total darkness. At that point, I fight back my panic. Not a chink of light from anywhere. My body stiffens. I’ve always hated complete darkness. Danny has always tolerated me having a small night light in our bedroom.
