To Catch a Creeper (20 page)

‘Ah…I don’t know, I just…kids put them in.’ I catch sight of the woman in the headscarf lined up at the till next door – loading packets of raspberry jelly onto her conveyor belt.

‘Tasty.’ The cashier’s now examining the label on my marmalade.

‘Very.’ I almost snatch it from her.

‘Not bad choice.’ She holds up a deodorant, unscrews the cap and wafts it under her nose. ‘Mmm. Love the smell.’

‘It was quite reasonably priced.’

‘True.’ She screws the cap back on. ‘Plus I find it works too. With being on the tills all day, I need something that really works.’ She sniffs under her arm and grimaces to prove a point.

‘I guess you do.’

‘Bog Off.’

I jump back startled and insulted. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. No need to take…’

‘Buy One Get One Free,’ she chortles and turns to Sophie, ‘Nip down to Aisle 11 sweetie and get your mum another one, dear.’

Chapter 18

Short time later I’m loading everything into the car boot, trying to manoeuvre tins and bottles so they don’t squash the endless biscuits and crisps that the children had snuck past me.

‘Hit me again and you’re going to get it!’ I hear Sophie squabbling with Josh in the back seat.

‘Shut up, loser.’

‘Cut it out, both of you or you won’t…’ I stop as my mobile begins ringing.

‘Hello, Cathy O’Farrell,’ I say when, after rummaging through handbag, jeans, sweatshirt pocket, jacket pocket, I locate my phone amongst the frozen goods.

‘Hi, it’s me.’ The voice is female but I can’t place it. ‘Leanne Perry.’

Still not a clue.

‘Your broker. We spoke a couple of weeks back. House insurance.’

‘Oh. Hi.’
My
broker. Sounds fancy. Hey Henrietta, this is
my
broker. La di da.

‘I wondered how it was all going. I couldn’t sleep thinking…’

‘About me?’

‘Yes…not in a funny way though. I was concerned about you and how difficult it must be keeping everything secret from your husband. Have you found another job yet?’

‘No,’ I sigh. ‘I’ve skimmed through adverts, but then I keep thinking how it’ll go at the interview when they ask me about my last place and I’ll have to admit I was suspended or lie through my teeth. I hate interviews at the best of times.’

‘Doesn’t everybody?’

‘Mum!’ Sophie opens the window and yells out. ‘Josh called me a poo poo head.’

‘Sophie undid my seatbelt.’

‘Did not!’

‘Did!’

‘GIVE IT A REST!’ I bawl.

‘Oh dear,’ Leanne sounds strangely hurt. ‘I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t…’

‘Sorry. I was talking to my kids. But I meanI’ve got an actual phobia about interviews. My head throbs, I can’t concentrate, my mind goes to mush.’

‘Jesus, that is bad. Ever thought why it might be?’

I shrug. ‘Perhaps because I don’t want them delving into my past…academic records.’

‘Did badly, huh!’

‘More interested in boys. And every time I went into an exam room, I panicked and went blank.’

‘Me too. But you know you can always resit them.’

‘
Yeah, right
.’ I close the boot.

‘No, they make it easy these days. Government learning schemes. You nip down to a computer testing centre and you can either take a course or just do the exam there and then. It won’t cost you a penny.’

‘What if I fail?’

‘Mrs O’Farrell, if you fail, just resit. No-one will ever know.’

***

I feel quite cheered up as I drive home. Maybe one day I’ll try that Government scheme. I even manage a rare smile as I pull up outside our house, but my face falls as Declan opens the door.

I mentally shake my head as I watch him high-fiving with his offspring. In many ways he’s still on another planet. Thankfully his conversations about Hugh have diminished but he hasn’t shaved for days and his hair’s grown way past his ears. Actually it doesn’t look bad – I never knew he had that kiss curl. He’s living in old denim jeans and baggy t-shirts, a far cry from the dark formal suits of Wilson Inc which sometimes made him look quite prissy.

The kids run off and he comes forward to take the bags from me, but then promptly drops them to the ground and begins tango-ing me down the hallway and into the kitchen, twirling as we go.

‘Let me down, you fool,’ I find myself laughing as I beat at his chest. ‘We can’t leave the shopping there, the…’

‘Shhh.’ He kisses me on the lips. ‘Now, close your eyes and step forward.’

‘What?’

But he puts his hands over my lids and twirls me round again.

‘You can open them now.’ He smiles at me in a peculiar way.

So I do and there I see, in place of my oven, a brand new totally enormous range cooker.

‘Bought it last week. Delivered this morning. What do you think?’

‘What do I think?!’ I say flabbergasted, my smile dropping faster than a lead balloon. ‘What was wrong with our other one?’

‘Apart from being ancient, encrusted with immovable grime and the
tuk tuk tuk
noise it made when you switched it on…?’

‘But it worked.’ I can’t believe he’s done this.

‘But don’t you see. It’s
so
much better. It bakes, roasts and broils.’

‘They all bake, roast and broil.’

‘It has a second oven.’

‘Why would we want a second oven?’

‘And one of the ovens boasts nine different functions.’

‘Who told you this?’

‘The man in the shop. And it has a handy warming zone, six burners…’

‘Stop! Stop! Why the hell have six burners? We’re a family of four. We hardly ever host dinner parties. No, it’s no good. You’ll have to take it back. Where’s my old one?’

‘Off to the rubbish dump.’

‘And it’s massive. How did they manage to fit it in?’ I walk around it, something must have been moved, something…

‘The dishwasher’s gone.’

‘
My
dishwasher!’ I gasp. ‘You wouldn’t, you couldn’t…’ He knows how much I value that dishwasher. I waited years for one. He wouldn’t just dispose of it without asking me… But then I get it and give a little chuckle. ‘OK you got me.’ I glance around, ‘Come on. Who is it? Channel 4? Dom Joly?
Candid Camera
? Out, out whoever you are.’ These reality shows get everywhere. I do a quick appearance check in the steel tea caddy.

But then I see something in his eyes as they look into mine, a kind of hesitation as if he’s unsure. And he’s not laughing and no-one’s springing out of the cupboards with false beards and ridiculous wigs holding woolly microphones.

‘Like you said, we hardly ever have dinner parties. Did we honestly need it?’

‘Darn sight more than a six ring burner range oven!’ I grit my teeth. ‘That dishwasher wasn’t even a sodding year old. It was my
birthday present
.’

‘Oh Cathy,’ he says, trying to jolly me along, ‘does it matter when you have a fabulous beast like this to cook with. Besides I haven’t disposed of it completely. I’ve put it in the garden shed If we ever move, we can still use it.’

If we ever move? If we ever get evicted for non payment of mortgage more like, which is a very probable possibility. ‘And…how…much did this cost?’

‘£3,200. It was a bargain. We can always add it to the loan if your salary doesn’t cover,’ he suggests with a smile.

‘OK.’ My voice is a squeak. ‘Just popping upstairs.’

I can hardly breathe as I close the bathroom door and perch myself on the toilet. £3,200.
Three…thousand…two…hundred!
I want to kill him. How could he be so stupid? And yet… He’s on the edge, isn’t he? He’s not thinking clearly. He doesn’t know the real truth. Oh my God! I grab a towel from the airing cupboard, stuff it into my mouth and silently scream.

***

‘Hey, Cathy, how’s it doodling?’

Two hours later and I’ve just answered the phone.

‘Well, I suppose I’m a bit calmer.’

‘Bit calmer? Why what’s up?’ Rosa sounds immediately concerned.

‘Oh, nothing. Just domestic stuff. No, I’m fine, really. How are you?’

‘Bored to buggery. When you coming over to visit?’

‘Soon.’

‘Soon, like this morning? Now?’

‘No, not now.’ I wrap the phone flex round my index finger until I can’t see any pink.

‘Oh, go on. Pretty please. You can bring the kids.’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s um…it’s…well…’ You see if I meet you, face to face like, you’ll see straight through me. I know you will. ‘There’s…this…this…thing going on.’

I wasn’t lying, there are lots of things going on. All over the world. Famines, feasts, explosions, celebrations, wars, births, deaths, weddings.

‘And?’

‘And…I’m meant to be going to it.’

‘But when is this
thing
? Today? Tonight? Sunday? Sunday night? I’m free in the evening if you prefer?’

‘All of them.’

‘Gosh that is a thing. A
big
thing.’

‘Yes, it is.’

We’re both quiet a moment, while I desperately try to determine what this ‘big thing’ might be, when just on the porch floor beneath the letterbox I spot a flyer. I pick it up. New paintball place cum assault course opening up near Totteridge.

‘They do these exercises.’ I scan through at record speed. ‘Camouflage gear, painting faces, high ropes.’

‘Like team-building? A work thing?’

‘Yes. I suppose.’

‘And Turks is organising that?’

‘He might be.’ Well I reason with myself, he really might be. How am I to know what he’s got up to now that I’ve gone?

‘Well, I guess we’ll have to leave it.’ Her voice sounds flat and disappointed.

‘It’s just…’

‘Yeah, I know. Work comes first. Another time.’ And now there’s a hint of slight irritation in her tone. We’ve never been slightly irritated with each other, never. Bummer.

‘Look, Rosa…’

‘Sorry, Cathy, have to go. I’m…really busy. I’ve got this…
thing
.’

And sarcasm slithered in there. Rosa and I have never been sarcastic to each other either.

Double bummer.

I feel both a coward and a cad as I replace the receiver. I comfort myself by saying it won’t be long before I can tell her the reasons I’ve been such a bad friend, and we can laugh about it and playfully punch arms and everything… I hope.

Chapter 19

‘So how are you, old man?’ The vet takes Tic-Tac from my arms and places him gently on her examination table.

I needed to leave the house. I was feeling so rotten about Rosa and I knew if I’d spent any more time with Declan trying to show me the new range oven’s ultra expensive features and flapping its instruction booklet in my face, I’d have slapped him.

‘No more attacks in the night?’ She prises open his mouth.

‘Nope, what about you?’ I say before I realise what I’m implying. ‘God, I’m sorry. I-I wasn’t referring to the…’

‘Crouch End Creeper?’ She sticks a thermometer up Tic-Tac’s rear end. ‘Yes, well thank goodness for that. Although I hear he’s still on the prowl.’

‘We’re doing everything we can.’

‘We?’ Her eyebrows lift at least three millimetres as she studies the reading, shakes it fast, then sticks it back in, more firmly this time. Tic-Tac’s face registers surprise.

‘The Neighbourhood Watch. I’m a member you know.’ I flash the yellow and black enamelled badge that’s pinned to my lapel. Shilpa gave it to me.

‘Oh…well no doubt you do a very good job,’ she says glumly. ‘Although saying that, your lot weren’t much help on the night this house was broken into. No-one saw anything.’

‘I wasn’t a member then.’ I feel I have to justify a little especially now I’ve been lumped in with a ‘lot’. Tic-Tac’s purring again, between quick short bites of his fur. ‘What time of day did you say your robbery occurred?’

‘Half past two.’

‘Quite sure of that?’ I whip out my notebook and flip it open.

‘Well not to the exact minute.’ She’s staring earnestly at her watch and I’m baffled for a second until I realise she’s timing Tic-Tac’s temperature. ‘I was expecting a visitor at two p.m. They never showed but I waited in until two-thirty anyway. I was back by three. So sometime between, say two-thirty and three.’

‘Visitor that didn’t show?’ My antenna waggles left and right. ‘Anyone special?’

‘Possible buyer.’ Her fingers expertly feel their way around Tic-Tac’s body, pinching and kneading, checking for lumps maybe. ‘I’m selling up.’

‘That’s a shame.’

‘Well, now that my husband, Hank, and I are separated…’ She stares intently at the screen for a moment before composing herself.

‘You’ll still practice around here, I hope?’

‘Oh yes, but with having to halve our “marital assets” I’m going after a smaller place.’ She studies the thermometer a second time then turns and begins tapping into her computer. ‘Problem is estate agents really discourage you viewing properties until you’ve offers on your own, which I’ve yet to receive.’

‘Bit of a catch 22, eh? And you can’t accept offers until you’ve found somewhere yourself?’

‘That’s right. Bugger Hank. He’s got fleas.’

‘Your ex?’ I say astonished.

‘He’s not my ex…
yet
.’ She gives another intent look at her screen. Either there’s something wrong with it, like when I had BITCH on mine, or I’m detecting a certain animosity with her ex-loved one. ‘And no, I wasn’t meaning Hank, I was meaning your cat. Although,’ she mumbles under her breath, ‘if I ever spot his lowdown face in that stupid Health Food Shop window… All for a lousy one night stand.’ She begins
separating the fur, and beckons me forward to look. ‘See these black sooty specks. That’s the sign. I’ll give you some flea treatment. When was he last wormed?’

‘He has worms as well?’

‘Well he might if you don’t regularly give him tablets. Sixty percent of British cats have them at any one time.’

‘As many as that?’ Yuk. That’s why I prefer dogs.

‘Vomiting, distended belly, dull coat – they’re all symptoms of roundworm. Or it could be a tapeworm.’

‘A tapeworm? Not those big things that grow humungous and take over your intestines?’

‘Some species grow as large as a hundred feet,’ she nods. ‘But the babies are spread by fleas. Like the ones Tic-Tac has,’ she gives me a slightly disapproving look. ‘Next time he defecates check his faeces. Roundworms are like spaghetti and tapeworms are tiny white wriggling particles about the size of a rice grain. Did you say he had diarrhoea?’