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I was waiting in the kitchen, in the silence, with my mug of tea, when a text pinged through.
It was from Skye.
She’d decided to stay over at her friend’s house. She’d catch up with me in the morning.
Shivering, I threw the phone back onto the table and pulled my dressing gown more tightly around me. I felt sick. So that was it, then – I’d have to spend the night on my own in the flat. I’d got used to having Skye around. I’d hardly noticed any weird night-time noises since she’d started sleeping in the spare room. But tonight, I was back to jumping out of my skin at the flat’s every little creak or sigh.
If I’d had another bottle of Irish Cream, I’d probably have drunk the entire bottle, I reflected, as I made doubly sure the door was locked and crept back to bed, hoping dreams would carry me away quickly from my nightmare imaginings. I pulled the duvet over my head, the way I used to when I was little and I’d been reading a scary story just before bed. It made me feel safer somehow, wrapped in a little cocoon.
For all I knew, there could be someone out there in the back garden, staring up at my window like before.
But I wasn’t about to look . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Next morning, in the cold light of day, the events of the night before seemed like an unpleasant dream. Had it really happened? Or had my mind been playing tricks on me again?
Then I walked into the kitchen and the first thing I saw was the single hellebore in a jug on the table, and it all came flooding back... the fear and the disbelief that someone would be deliberately trying to get into my head and freak me out. Skye must have come in this morning without me hearing her. She’d have found the flower on the mat and decided it needed water.
Sure enough, next moment I heard the sound of the shower, and my shoulders relaxed a little. At least I had company again. Skye was home...
‘Someone’s got an admirer,’ she commented with a grin, when she came into the kitchen a little later wrapped in her robe. ‘A single flower. Very romantic. Who do you think left it?’
I shrugged and tried to laugh it off. ‘Who says it was meant for me? Maybe the postman has a crush on you!’
She considered this and shrugged, clearly thinking I might have hit on something. And I smiled to myself, wishing I possessed even a tenth of my sister’s self-confidence. Her reaction played in my favour, though: the mystery of who left the hellebore was thankfully dropped.
*****
Later, Skye – who had been going increasingly stir-crazy, cooped up indoors – decided the recent interest in her had probably died down enough for her to catch a train and go shopping in Guildford. She’d bought some clothes online, having dismissedmost of the ones I’d offered as completely unsuitable, but she was clearly feeling the need to stock up.
She headed for the bathroom to get ready, and I settled down at the kitchen table to catch up with some work for Milo.
The hellebore in its jug was distracting me and eventually, I moved it to the windowsill, out of sight – and that’s when I noticed a figure in dark clothes and a baseball cap standing smoking, with his back to me, at the side of the green. It was definitely a man. He had a backpack at his feet and as I watched, he sat down beside it on the grass. Was he waiting for someone?
At that moment, he turned his head and looked directly up at the window. He saw me watching him and made to get up, but I ducked quickly out of sight, although it was clear he’d seen me.
I sat at the table, trying to calm down, telling myself he was probably just a stranger out for a walk with his backpack, stopping on the green for a smoke. What could be more natural? I was allowing my imagination to run riot again.
I got up and went to the window. But he was gone. And then Skye came through, wearing a tracksuit, my parka and a pair of large dark glasses.
‘Okay, I’m off. See you later.’
‘How long will you be?’ I called, in a sudden panic.
‘Meeting my friend for a coffee but I’ll be back by six,’ she called. ‘How about I bring something delicious for dinner?’
‘Great!’
After she’d gone, I got back to work, then later, towards café closing time, I met Milo for a coffee to talk about the business.
We were poring over the prices of toilets and showers – the block would be ready to be fitted out the following week – when the café door burst open and Skye appeared.
‘Rori! Thank God you’re here. I’ve been buzzing and buzzing. Let me into the flat, will you?’
‘Are you okay?’ I gazed at her flushed face in alarm. ‘Did you forget your key?’
‘Never mind that! Hurry up and let me in.’ She glanced over her shoulder, out of the window. ‘Bloody Gerry – the creep I told you about – he’s somehow managed to track me down. I had a feeling someone was following me on the way to the station this morning. You get a sixth sense about it after a while. And then I was coming out of a shop in Guildford with Marie, when suddenly there he was, larger than life and twice as ugly. Biding his time, waiting for me to emerge. And the bastard gotthesnap of his life!’
