Before she could stop herself, she pulled the little window shut and then realised they might have seen that. There was nowhere to hide. She squatted on the ground and put her arms around her head, trying to control the shallow gasping that was coming from her.
If they found her, they would call the police. Or the doctor. She would be back in custody and this time it wouldn’t be just for a few weeks. She cursed herself as she crouched there in the dark. What had she done? Why had she done it? Was this what it was like to be mad? Was Felix right about her? Why else was she in here, among the dead flies and old plant pots, looking for clues that probably didn’t exist to a death that nobody but her thought was a crime?
For a moment, she heard a faint insistent whispering. Mad, it seemed to say. Crazy. Voices coming from nowhere, people who weren’t there.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
‘Where do you want me to put it?’ Dylan was saying.
That was real at least. He sounded cross.
‘I thought it could go where the camellia used to be.’
Michelle’s voice sounded horribly close. They must be standing about three feet from the shed.
‘Do you want me to plant it now?’
‘Why not?’
He’ll need the spade to dig a hole, thought Nancy. She imagined it, the key in the padlock, the door swinging open, and Nancy curled on the floor, hiding her face. The thought was so ghastly she almost called out to them, just to get it over with.
‘Because it’s raining.’
‘It’s more drizzle than rain.’
‘I call this rain.’
‘It’s up to you,’ said Michelle in her pleasant, modulated tone that made it clear she thought he was just prevaricating.
‘What’s happened to the rose?’ Dylan said. ‘Look. It’s been snapped.’
‘That’s my Himalayan Musk. And the fence is damaged.’
‘Shit. That’s all I need. I bet it was that fucking Seamus. He comes out here and smokes weed.’
Nancy waited for them to notice the bench up against the shed. The effort of breathing quietly hurt her chest. There were things moving on her scalp. Spiders, she thought.
‘I’m going to have a word with him.’
‘It could have been anyone,’ said Michelle.
‘I hate having a household of tenants next to us.’ Dylan was getting angrier as he spoke, working himself into a temper. ‘You don’t look after a place unless you own it. With their loud parties and rubbish everywhere and look at the state of their garden. Not to mention having a madwoman as a neighbour.’
‘You think she’s mad, do you?’ Michelle’s voice was still low and pleasant.
‘You’re the one who said so. Paranoid and crazy. Anyway, you just have to look at her to know she’s not right. Those glittery eyes and the way she watches people.’
‘You watch people,’ said Michelle. There was a slight pause. ‘Or rather, you watch women.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Don’t pretend: this is me, remember. I’ve seen the way you look at Nancy.’
‘That’s crap.’
‘She’s very pretty, in an unconventional way, if a bit unkempt.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just saying, Dylan, that you should be careful. Because you looked at Kira that way as well.’
There was a sudden silence. When Dylan spoke, his voice was a growl.
‘You’re going too far.’
‘Am I? I’m glad to hear that. I can’t always be getting you out of scrapes.’
‘You stand here, wanting me to plant this bloody bush in the rain, and insult me at the same time.’
‘Plant it later then.’
‘Don’t worry. I intend to.’
There were footsteps on the gravel. A door opened and shut. After a few seconds, Nancy uncurled herself and stood up. Her legs shook and she felt dizzy with the aftermath of her terror. But the whispering had gone.
Now she needed to get out of here without them seeing her. She tried to remember from when she had been in their house if the shed was visible from the kitchen. Probably. How long should she wait? When was the most likely time for the kitchen to be empty? She had no idea – and anyway, if she waited much longer, Felix would come home and find her gone.
She decided to make her escape at once, and before she could argue herself out of it, had climbed back out of the window, onto the little bench and into the garden. She dragged the bench over to the fence, climbed up and pulled apart the damaged latticework sections to make a gap wide enough for her to climb through. The rose tore at her skin and she could feel blood trickling from under one ear.
She jumped and landed heavily, scrambled to her feet, peered over to see if she could shift the bench back a bit, but was unable to. Pulled the fence closed as best as she could.
‘Well, hello!’
She spun round to see Barney.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Jesus!’ He was staring at her in amazement.
‘What?’
‘Has something happened?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re bleeding. And covered in mud and something green as well.’ He took a step closer. ‘You look really rough. What’ve you been up to?’
Nancy put a hand to her face and tried to brush away some of the dirt.
‘Gardening,’ she said.
‘Really?’ Barney stared dubiously at the cracked paving stones, the nettles and weeds, the obvious lack of any gardening implements or sign of weeding and clearing.
‘Yes, really.’
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t seem all right.’ He was standing up against the dividing wall now, a foot or two away from her. ‘You can tell me, you know, I’m on your side.’
‘I must go and shower.’
She started back up the metal steps and as she did so, Michelle came into the garden she had just exited.
‘Nancy?’ she called. ‘Can I have a word?’
Nancy didn’t answer, nor turn her grubby, blood-smeared face. She ran up the remaining steps and opened the door into the kitchen. Hearing the key turn in their entrance door, she charged into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
‘I’m back,’ called Felix.
‘Just having a shower.’
‘The water won’t be hot.’
‘Never mind,’ she said.
She turned to face herself. No wonder Barney had been startled: her hair was wildly matted, her face was smeared with mud and green mould, there was a bruise on one cheek and blood trickling down her neck. Her jumper was torn beyond repair.
She took all her clothes off, releasing earth and gravel and numerous plant seeds onto the floor, then stepped under the shower. Felix was right: the water was not hot. But she washed herself thoroughly, shampooed her hair, then wrapped herself in a towel and scooped up all her clothes. Her skin was covered in goosebumps.
‘Hi,’ said Felix as she came out.
‘Any luck with the lights?’
He pointed. A twinkling rope of lights was plugged into the sockets.
‘Brilliant.’
‘What’ve you done to your cheek?’
‘Oh, that. Just bumped into something.’
‘When you’re dressed, we can have lunch, then decorate the tree.’
‘I haven’t actually got anything ready yet.’
Felix frowned.
‘What have you been up to?’
‘This and that,’ said Nancy.