“You’re in luck,” she says, looking up. “I’ve one deluxe single left.”
“Edie’ll take good care of you,” Jim says, so kindly that I feel ridiculous tears welling up again.
“Could I take it for tonight, please?” I say, wiping my eyes. “Thank you very much.” I take another sip of tea, then notice my mug. It’s blue pottery with Scully handpainted on it in white. “This is nice,” I say with a gulp. “Do you sell them?”
“On the rack at the back,” says Jim, looking at me with amusement.
“Could I have two? I mean, four?” I reach for a tissue and blow my nose. “And I just want to say… thank you. You’re all being so nice.”
The bed-and-breakfast is a large white house directly across the green. Jim carries my suitcases and I carry my hatbox and my carrier bag full of souvenirs, and Edie follows behind me, giving me a list of rules I have to keep.
“No gentleman visitors after eleven… no parties of more than three people in the room… no abuse of solvents or aerosol cans… payment in advance, cash or check accepted, much obliged,” she concludes as we reach the lit-up door.
“All right from here, Becky?” says Jim, putting my cases down.
“I’ll be fine. And thank you so much,” I say, feeling so grateful, I half-want to give him a kiss. But I don’t quite dare to — so I just watch as he walks off across the grass again.
“Much obliged,” repeats Edie meaningfully.
“Oh!” I say, realizing she means she wants to be paid. “Absolutely!”
I scrabble inside my bag for my purse, and my fingers brush against my mobile phone. From force of habit I pull it out and peer at the display. But there’s still no signal.
“You can use the pay phone in the hall if there’s anyone you want to call,” says Edie. “We have a pull-down privacy hood.”
Is there anyone I want to call?
With a twinge I think of Luke in Cyprus, still furious with me; Mum and Dad engrossed in a therapy workshop on their cruise; and Suze, picnicking on some picturesque sun-dappled lawn with Lulu and all their children in cute overalls.
“No. It’s OK,” I say, trying to smile. “I haven’t got anyone to call. To be honest… no one will have even noticed I’ve gone.”
5 jun 03 16:54
to Becky
from Suze
Bex. Sorry I missed u. Why aren’t u answering the phone? Had disastrous day at picnic. We all got stung by wasps. I miss u. Am coming to London to visit. Call me.
Suzexxxx
6 jun 03 10:02
to Becky
from Suze
Hi, Bex, I’m here. Where RU? Please call!!!!
Suzex
6 jun 03 2:36
to Becky
from Suze
Bex. Where RU????????????????
Suzexxxx
Eighteen
I DON’T SLEEP well.
In fact, I’m not sure I sleep at all. I seem to have spent the whole night staring at the uneven ceiling of Edie’s B&B, my mind going round and round in circles. Except I must have slept for a bit, because when I wake up in the morning my head is full of a terrible dream where I turned into Alicia Bitch Long-legs. I was wearing a pink suit and laughing with a horrible sneer and Jess was looking all pale and crushed. In fact, now that I think about it, Jess looked a bit like me.
Just the thought of it makes me queasy. I have to do something about this.
I’m not hungry, but Edie has cooked a full English breakfast and doesn’t seem impressed when I say I normally have just a piece of toast. So I nibble at some bacon and eggs and pretend to have a go at the black pudding, all the while avoiding the attempts at conversation by a kindly German couple on holiday. After a final sip of coffee I leave to find Jess.
As I head up the hill to her house, the morning sun is in my eyes, and a cool wind blows through my hair. Across the green I can see Jim outside his store, unloading crates of apples from a delivery truck, and he lifts his hand in greeting. I wave back, my spirits lifted. This feels like a day for reconciliations. Fresh starts and clean slates.
I approach the all-too-familiar brown front door, ring the bell, and wait.
There’s no reply.
OK, I am really tired of people not being in when I want to have emotional reunions with them. I squint up at the windows, wondering whether she might be hiding. Maybe I should throw some stones up at the windowpanes.
Except what if I broke one? Then she’d really hate me.
I ring the bell a few more times, then give up and walk back down the path. I sit on a piece of wall and settle myself comfortably. This is fine. It’s a lovely day. I’ll just wait, and when she arrives back home I’ll spring up with a speech about how sorry I am.
The wall isn’t quite as comfortable as I first thought, and I shift a few times, trying to find a good position. I check the time, then watch an old lady and her little dog walk slowly along the pavement on the other side of the road.
Then I check the time again. Five minutes have gone by.
God, how on earth do stalkers do it? They must get bored out of their minds.
I get up to stretch my legs and walk up to Jess’s house again. I ring the bell, just to be on the safe side, then meander back to the wall again. As I do so, I see a policeman coming up the street toward me. What’s a policeman doing here, out on this little street at ten o’clock in the morning? I thought they were all tied to their desks by paperwork or zooming around inner cities in squad cars.
I feel a bit apprehensive as I see that he’s looking directly at me. But I’m not doing anything wrong, am I? I mean, it’s not like stalking is against the law.
Oh. Well, OK, maybe stalking is against the law. But I’ve only been doing it for five minutes. Surely that doesn’t count. And anyway, how does he know I’m stalking anyone? I might just be sitting here for pleasure.
“All right?” he says as he approaches.
“Fine, thanks!”
He looks at me expectantly.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“Could you move along, miss? This isn’t a public seat.”
