February 2018
I hadn’t slept well, my mind going over and over what the man had said, but I had to push it to the back of mind, at least until Grace was at nursery school. I couldn’t let her see me agitated. She needed a strong mum, one who would show her that everything would be OK now her daddy wasn’t living with us.
It had been a milder night, and most of the snow and ice had thawed. I felt sure Grace’s nursery school wouldn’t close for a third day. It had been great spending time with her, but I couldn’t afford to lose money by cancelling more of my therapy sessions.
Once the morning ritual of chasing Grace up the stairs to clean her teeth and get dressed was over, and the breakfast table was afloat with Rice Krispies and a puddle of milk, I knew I wasn’t going to get a call from the school.
‘Looks as though you’ve got nursery today,’ I said, giving her face a second clean with a wet wipe.
‘YAY!’ she cried, and ran to get her coat and Peppa Pig rucksack.
We walked down the path towards the car, and I noticed Angela’s curtain move. I would talk to her later – ask if she was OK after the man raised his voice at her, and make sure she hadn’t taken offence that I hadn’t left Grace with her on her snow days.
I strapped Grace into the back of the car, climbed into the front, and was about to start the engine, when my phone pinged. It was a text from an unfamiliar number, and as I read the message my insides turned liquid:
I threw my phone onto the passenger seat, and locked the doors, scanning the road, before pulling away too fast, and skidding across black ice.
‘Weeeeeeee,’ Grace said, and giggled. ‘Do it again, Mummy.’
I turned into the skid and gained control of the car, and drove at a sensible speed to Grace’s nursery. Once I’d dropped her off, I sat in the car park gathering my thoughts.
Was it the same man who’d tried to talk to me the night before? Should I meet him? Would he explain the odd things that had been happening?
It was just after nine. My first appointment was at half past, the second at 10.45. I could just make it to the Emirates Stadium if I wasn’t picking up Grace at midday. I knew I couldn’t take her with me. But I had to go. Whoever he was, he’d picked a busy location. He would hardly hurt me in full view of hundreds of people, would he?
I fumbled in my bag for my phone and called Zoe, desperately needing to talk things through with her before I did anything rash. As soon as she picked up, I told her about the man who approached me the night before.
‘And now I’ve had a text, and I think it’s the same man,’ I said. ‘He says there are things I should know. And there’s something else, I keep thinking he’s the same man who called the TV studio – the same man who told me my mother had died. I’m sure it’s the same voice.’
‘Oh my God, Rachel,’ Zoe said, when I came up for breath, but I could tell she was distracted. ‘Hold on a sec, lovely. Sorry.’ She disappeared, but I could still hear her distant voice. ‘Gina, could you finish Mrs Kirbyshire for me?’
‘Sorry, Rach.’ She was back. ‘Listen, have you contacted the police?’
‘No. I don’t know what I’d say.’ But the truth was, I wanted to see this man myself, without involving the police. ‘They wouldn’t understand.’
‘Do you think you should go alone? He could be anybody.’
‘I must go, Zoe,’ I said with more confidence than I felt. ‘I need to know what’s going on, and if he knew I’d involved the police it could frighten him off.’
‘Not like that, Gina!’ she yelled. ‘I’m so sorry, Rach, I’m going to have to love you and leave you – you just can’t get the staff.’ She laughed. ‘But promise you’ll call tonight. And if you go, please be careful.’ And with that she hung up.
I drove home, and by the time I’d pulled up outside my house, time was ticking away. I looked at Angela’s front door – white plastic PVC, that didn’t quite suit the Victorian terrace. Lawrence once said it was like Jane Austen wearing trainers. Would it be wrong of me to ask Angela to pick Grace up, and look after her for an hour? After all, I’d never seen her drunk, a bit tipsy on occasions, but never drunk, and never when she was looking after Grace.
I got out of the car, walked up her path, and rang her doorbell.
She took a while to answer, and when she did, she peered round the door. She was still in her silk robe and pyjamas, her hair ruffled. ‘Rachel,’ she said.
‘Hey, how are you?’
‘Not too bad.’ She opened the door wider, and gestured for me to enter. I stepped onto the doormat.
‘I saw what happened last night,’ I said. ‘The man.’
‘It was something and nothing.’ She flapped her hand dismissively. ‘Coffee?’
I shook my head, and stayed on the doormat, so I didn’t have to remove my boots. Her front door opened straight onto her lounge – a sea of cream, with snatches of jade, mainly in flower form. ‘Better not, my first appointment is in fifteen minutes.’
‘Grace back at nursery, then?’ she asked, tightening the belt of her robe.
I nodded, hit by a feeling of guilt that I’d let Lawrence influence me. I’d judged her on what he’d told me. It was wrong of me. ‘She had yesterday off …’
‘Yes, I saw you in the garden. You looked as though you were having fun.’ She smiled.
I was beginning to overheat in my coat. ‘I didn’t have any patients yesterday, so it was nice to spend some time with her,’ I lied. I paused for a moment before adding, ‘Listen, could I ask a favour?’
Her eyes brightened, as though I was about to offer her the world. ‘Of course, anything – you know that.’
‘Would you be able to pick Grace up from nursery, and look after her for an hour?’
‘Love to,’ she said, with a smile. ‘No problem at all.’
I lowered my head, thinking about the man who’d called out to me the night before.
‘Are you OK?’ Angela placed her hand on my arm.
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘The thing is …’ I paused for a moment, and then told her everything I’d told Zoe.
‘Oh God, Rachel. That’s extremely worrying.’
I looked into her concerned eyes, feeling the comfort of her hand stroking my arm.
‘He wants me to meet him.’
‘You’re not going, surely.’ She removed her hand, and covered her mouth. ‘He could be a serial killer or something.’
I knew I should have felt pleased she cared so much, but instead I felt vaguely irritated.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at the time. ‘I’d better go, my client won’t be long.’ I turned and opened the front door, glad to be hit by a blast of cold air – it was always too hot in Angela’s house. ‘Thanks so much for picking up Grace,’ I said, and headed for my morning appointments.
***
I waited by the Emirates Stadium entrance, stepping from foot to foot to keep warm, watching the minutes tick by on my phone, as I occupied myself liking photos on Instagram.
Whoever he was, he’d picked a busy area where people raced along going about their business, and I felt sure I would be safe here. I just wanted answers.
I scrutinised every bloke who passed by, wondering if it was the man who’d led me to the care home with the fake announcement that my mother was dead – the same man who’d called the studio.
I could suddenly hear his voice in my head; ‘I’m crying out. But they won’t listen. And now you must pay, Rachel.’
A woman with a stroller rammed my leg, making me jump. ‘Sorry,’ she said, as she dashed by.
Panic rose from nowhere. What was I doing? It might be crowded, but it would be so easy for him to attack me – thrust a knife into my heart, and run through the crowds.
But I couldn’t move, glued to the spot by the desire to know.
As the seconds became minutes, and the clock turned from twelve-fifteen to twelve-thirty, nobody came. But the words, ‘And now you must pay,’ played on repeat in my head.