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‘I’m just on my way to bed,’ I say, closing the door over a little to keep the freezing wind from zipping past me and into the house.
‘It’s just I noticed your car window is open and’ – I crane my neck past him to look at my car – ‘I thought you’d want to know.’
‘Oh God. I do. I do. Thank you.’
I grab my keys off the hall table behind me and I’m about to dash outside when my neighbour looks at my bare feet and shakes his head. ‘It’s cats and dogs out here. If you give me the keys, I’ll close it for you.’
I must look uncertain or scared because he backs off the step and says, ‘Only if it helps. I won’t drive off in it. You know where I live, after all.’
‘That would be great. Thank you,’ I say, reaching my arm out into the rain to pass the keys to him.
He opens the driver’s door, starts the engine and rolls up the window.
‘Thank you so much. I’m not normally this distracted.’ I shake my head, mortified.
‘One of those days,’ he says, locking the car and passing me back the keys.
‘One of those weeks, actually,’ I say.
‘No real harm done. But that rain is heavy stuff,’ he says, pointing towards the sky as he returns to the shelter of the doorstep. ‘And it’s been coming down for a while. You might want to put some plastic on that seat before you sit into it next. You’ll get pneumonia otherwise. Should dry out in a day or two though.’
I glance across the green at Trish’s house. The curtains in an upstairs bedroom twitch and I’ve no doubt my busybody neighbour is peeking out. We’ll be the talk of the estate tomorrow. Of course, Trish will put her spin on it. I can hear her now.
‘Poor neighbour had to come to Charlotte’s rescue in the storm when her terrible husband abandoned her. And do you know they have another woman living with them?’
‘Oh really,’some other busybody will reply. ‘I’m not surprised.’
The twitching curtain steadies and I know Trish has spotted me glaring in her direction.
His phone rings and I’ve never seen someone drag a phone out of their pocket and press it to their ear so quickly. I look on as he uses a hand gesture to excuse himself and he steps aside on the porch. I wonder if it’s his fiancée checking where he is or maybe it’s a business call. It’s definitely something very serious if the expression on his face is anything to go by. He’s very serious and concerned as he speaks. I wonder if I should mouth a silent goodnight and close the door or wait until he’s finished on the phone to say goodnight properly. It’s all rather awkward. All I want to do is go back inside and go to bed.
THIRTY-TWO
HEATHER
A sharp, icy draft shakes me awake. I rub my eyes and sit up. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but my head is pounding and I’ve a horrible crick in my neck. Charlotte isn’t here and at first I assume it’s late and she’s gone to bed. But as I wake a little more I hear voices outside and I realise the draft is blowing in from the open front door. I peel the warm throw off me and stand up. I shake it out and drape it over the back of the couch. Charlotte must have put it over me. I’m exhausted and all I want to do is flop into bed but I decide I better clean up first. I pick up the two glasses from the coffee table and drag myself towards the kitchen. I don’t think Charlotte notices me as I pass behind her. I’m barely able to keep my eyes open as I wash and dry the glasses and put them away, hoping I chose the right cupboard.
Charlotte and the man at the door move to the shelter of the porch as they continue talking. I’m about to make my way upstairs and go to bed when my phone rings. I hurry back into the kitchen and dig around in my handbag, that I’ve left hanging on the back of the chair.
‘Hello.’
‘Heather it’s Gavin.’
‘Oh. Gavin. Hi,’ I say, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention as I notice the wobble in his voice.
‘It’s Kay,’ he says. I can tell he’s holding his breath.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Her temperature is through the roof. The nurses have been in and out like a yo-yo since you left and now they’ve called the doctor. They can’t seem to get it to come down. Even with paracetamol or whatever those little white tablets they give her are.’
‘Oh Jesus.’ My chest tightens. ‘Is she awake?’
‘Sort of. Yeah,’ Gavin says. ‘She opens her eyes every now and then, but she’s floppy and can’t really talk. I know she’s trying to tell me something. But I don’t know what.’
‘I’m on my way. On my way right now. I’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.’
‘Okay. Yeah. Okay,’ Gavin’s voice is cracking like a needle scratching a record.
