Fry (15 page)

“You’re going to have to get some better reading material for the waiting room,” I tell Deacon, when he comes out of his office. “I just found a copy of Vogue that was two years out of date. Oh, sorry….”

I hadn’t realised there was somebody with him.

Deacon smiles. “Isabel, this is my colleague, Jim.”

I smile politely. Jim is tall and skinny with limp hair that sticks to the sides of his head. He looks at me expectantly. I glance back at Deacon.

“What’s going on?”

“Deacon was saying you’ve been having some problems lately?” Jim says, softly. “He thought perhaps I could help?”

“What?”

I stare at Deacon.

“Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Alicia’s the crazy one, not me!”

“Calm down! I just thought it might be helpful for you to speak to a therapist.”

“I am calm!” I bellow. I know this isn’t the best time to display my anger, but this is really all too much. “I thought you wanted to help me!”

“I do!”

“Not by setting me up with a therapist,” I explode, eyeing Jim in dismay.

“I just needed you to believe me.”

I storm out of the office and back to my car. I drive aimlessly for a while, too het up to think about where I’m going. A flock of seagulls circles overhead as I turn south and take the coast road. Almost without realising it, I find myself nearing the familiar turn-off for the Beach House.

What am I doing here?

I don’t park directly in front of the house, but close enough that I still have quite a good view. The light is on in the kitchen - probably Rhett, cooking dinner. My phone rings. It’s Deacon. My heart aches, but I can’t speak to him. Not yet. I’m still too angry.

It’s not long before he rolls up outside the house. I note the hassled expression on his face as he shuffles up the steps. But he doesn’t go inside. Instead, he glances back at the road. As if he’s waiting for something.
Or someone.
A few minutes later, a second car pulls up.

Kate! Kate’s here.

Deacon goes to greet her and they disappear into the house.

Oh, this is stupid!

I get out of the car and walk up to the house. I stand at the door, my hand poised to knock, when their voices float out to me through the open kitchen window.

Oh god, they’re talking about me, aren’t they? 

I can hear their conversation quite clearly,

“What if,” Kate murmurs. “What if there is something in what Isabel says? What if Alicia really is trying to set her up? She seems so convinced.”

Yes! Yes!

I silently punch the air. Kate is on my side. Maybe she can talk some sense into him.

“It isn’t Alicia who’s acting strangely though, is it?” Deacon reasons. “I’ve heard of cases like this before, where the patient grows gradually more deluded, creating increasingly elaborate stories.”

“But what about her cat going missing?” Kate persists. “Seems a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

Deacon sighs. “The sad thing is, Fluffy’s disappearance is probably her own doing.”

What?

His words hit me with a force.

How could he even suggest I would hurt Fluffy?

I will never forgive him, never!

“But she loves that cat!”

“I know, I know. But she isn’t herself right now. If we really want to help her find Fluffy, we need to persuade her to get help.”

How could he? I seethe with unadulterated rage.

I thought he knew me.

I turn and run. Once back in the car, I sit and stare blankly at the controls, as if I’ve just boarded an alien spacecraft. I’ve lost him. Alicia has won. Reluctantly, I start the engine. I let my anger take the wheel – I speed up at every bump in the road, aim straight for every muddy puddle. I take a masochistic delight in every thud that bumps the car, a sick pleasure at every muddy shower.

Maybe I’m the one who’s crazy after all? Who knows?

I stare up at the ceiling for hours that night, my body rigid at every crack or creak. If only there was someone I could talk to. Someone who’d be on my side, for a change. Someone like Holly.

I haven’t heard from my brother’s fiancée since she checked Alicia’s records, but I know she’ll take me seriously, even if no one else will, and if anyone can help me, surely it’s a private detective? I just have to get her to dig a little deeper.

It’s ironic, I think, as I dial her number. Holly was a stranger to me just a couple of weeks ago. Now she and Julio are my only allies.

I wait anxiously as the phone rings and rings.

Oh, why doesn’t she pick up?

Finally, there is a click on the other end.

“Holly!” My heart floods with relief.

“This is Julio,” a sleepy voice answers. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Oh - sorry,” I gulp. “I just really need to speak to Holly. Things are getting so crazy here.”

My brother sounds extremely irritable.

“I’ll get her to ring you in the morning, Isabel. Now get some sleep. Before you start losing your grip.”

“But…”

It’s no use arguing with him. He’s already gone.

* * *

I sleep fitfully, but the house seems cold and empty without Fluffy. A couple of times, I jolt awake, convinced I can hear his cries. But there is nothing there but the darkness.

It is some time later that the sound of birds twittering seeps through my consciousness. I raise a hand to shield my eyes from the light.

What time is it?

I reach for my phone, which is lying on the pillow beside me. It’s gone nine. Why didn’t the alarm wake me?

Probably because I didn’t set it.

I get up and pull on my dressing gown. I’m halfway to the shower when something stops me. I can’t go in. I can’t face her.

I ring Sonya.

“You’re not coming in, are you?”

“I’m sorry. My migraine’s still really bad. I haven’t had a wink of sleep.”

Well, that part’s true, at least.

Sonya sighs. “You will be in tomorrow, won’t you? We’re really struggling without you.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow.” I assure her. “Of course I will. I just need a bit more rest.”

How easily the words trickle from my lips.

I throw on some clothes and head out into the street, armed with a wad of posters and a reel of sticky tape. Someone must have seen Fluffy. Someone must know where he is.

That’s strange, I think, as I pass a lamppost close to my house, I thought I put a poster there yesterday.

I grab another one from my bundle and tape it up where people will see it. But as I pass the bus shelter, I notice that poster’s gone too. And the one on the newsagent’s noticeboard. I feel a tightness in my chest.

Someone’s been taking down my posters!

For the rest of the day, I stomp around, plastering posters to every conceivable surface and pressing them into the hands of bemused passersby. I work with an energy I didn’t know I possessed. People look at me strangely, fearfully, even. But I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to find Fluffy

Time starts to lose all significance. Day blends into night and night blends into day. Drained by lack of sleep, the word ‘FRY’ reverberates around in my head like a marble. It is the last thing I see before I close my eyes at night and the first thing I see when I open them in the morning. 

I ring Holly incessantly. Probably make quite a pest of myself, begging her for updates. I offer to pay her anything she wants. She refuses to take a fee and patiently warns me – yet again that the business of a private detective can be slow and that it might be a while before she finds anything.

People look at me strangely in the street. Some with sympathy, others with suspicion. I don’t know if it’s just my tired appearance, or if word has got round that I’m losing it, but I’m definitely not imagining it. The man who owns the garage where Julio did his apprenticeship gives me a wink as I pass him in the street. I keep getting free coffees from Mustafa’s and the manager of the beauty salon comes out of her shop to offer me a free haircut, even though she’s known for being a tightwad.

I have probably been off work for a week or more, when I find myself curled up on the sofa one night, the remote in one hand, and a glass of cheap red wine in the other. I flick from one music channel to another, but each song in turn annoys me. I switch over to the style channel instead and start to watch a programme about military-inspired hats.

This is really boring. Maybe I should just go up to bed?

I switch off the TV and sit in silence for a moment, unable to will myself off the sofa. There is a slow, creaking sound as my letterbox starts to open.

I freeze.

What’s happening?

A pair of eyes peer through.

Alicia?

My heart in my mouth, I dive behind the sofa, and hunch there, quaking.

What does she want from me? Why doesn’t she leave me alone?

It seems like an eternity before her voice floats out to me.

“Coo-ey! Isabel? Are you there?”

It’s just Kate!

Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I get up and go to the door.

“What are you doing here at this time of night?” I ask as I start to unbolt the door. But I leave it on the latch while I peer behind her to check that Alicia’s not lurking in the shadows.

“Night? It’s half past seven in the morning, Isabel! I’m on my way to work and so should you be.”

“Did Deacon ask you to come round?”

“He’s worried about you and can you blame him? You have to admit you’ve been acting rather strangely lately.”

“If I’m acting strangely,” I snarl, “It’s because fires start wherever I go! My cat’s been kidnapped, and Alicia’s out to get me, only none of you bloody well believe me!”

“Calm down!” she says. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Well, nothing like this has ever happened to me before. She’s destroying my life.”

Kate shakes her head.

“Look, are you going to let me or what? It’s freaking freezing out here.”

“Yes, of course, come in.”

I take the chain off the latch and pull her inside, taking care to lock and bolt the door after her.

“Now, first things first,” she says, taking her coat off and hanging it up in an orderly fashion. “Let’s get some light in here.”

She goes to the window and pulls back the curtains, letting in a stream of daylight. Then goes into the kitchen and puts on the kettle.

“I’ll make us both a nice cup of tea.”

“Are you sure you have time? I don’t want to make you late for work.”

Kate smiles. “What are friends for?”

I give an involuntary shudder. I’m sure she means it nicely, but that sounds exactly like something Alicia would say.

While Kate is in the kitchen, I clear a space on the coffee table, which has become cluttered with the wine glasses, coffee cups and cigarette packets that have become the mainstay of my diet. She returns a minute later with two strong cups of coffee and a plate of chocolate biscuits, which she must have brought with her, because there were none in the cupboards.

“You’re out of milk so I made coffee instead.”

“Thanks.”

I eye the biscuits.

“Go on, help yourself.”

I devour one after another.

“Hungry?” she says, sounding concerned.  “No offence, Isabel – but if you can’t remember to feed yourself, isn’t it possible you forgot to feed Fluffy, too? Maybe he’s wandered off somewhere to find food.”

“I never forget to feed Fluffy.” I say, through a mouthful of biscuit. “Just go and look in his food bowl, if you don’t believe me. It’s full to the brim.”

“But that’s what Deacon thinks too, isn’t it?” I say, after I’ve wiped the crumbs from my mouth. “That I neglected Fluffy, and that’s why he disappeared.”

“He’s just worried about you. We all are.”

“Well, it’s him and Rhett you should be worried about. They’re the ones living under the same roof as that psycho.”

Kate frowns, as though she can’t quite comprehend this argument. “You know - maybe you should go and see that psychiatrist,” she says, softly. “If only to put everyone’s minds at rest.”

“You think I’m crazy!”

“I didn’t say that, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

I am about to argue when a strange thought pops into my head:

Maybe this psychiatrist guy could help me. Maybe if I go and see him, he can help me convince them all that I’m not crazy. Then they’ll have to believe me.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I say slowly. ”Maybe I will go and see him, after all.”

“Good!” Kate hugs me in relief. “Good for you!”