I kissed him, and our hands felt for each other.
'Most people wouldn't say that,' I said. 'They'd just find an excuse not to have me in the house. But at the moment I'm interested in your plan.'
'What plan?'
'The one that began with you washing my shoulders. We can miss out the washing bit.'
'Oh, that plan,' he said.
Twenty-two
'Listen. I woke up and I couldn't get back to sleep and I've been thinking. You know how it is when you just lie there in the dark and thoughts whirl round and round your head? Anyway, this is how it is. He's after me, but I'm after him too. I've got to get to him before he gets to me. Agreed?' I was sitting at Ben's kitchen table in one of his shirts, dipping brioche into coffee. Outside, there was frost on the grass. The kitchen smelt of fresh bread and hyacinths.
'Maybe,' he said.
'So what does he know about me? He knows my name, what I look like, more or less, where I lived until a couple of weeks ago, where I stayed until yesterday, where I work. Or worked. Right, what do I know about him?' I paused for a moment to drink some coffee. 'Nothing.'
'Nothing?'
'Nothing at all. A blank. Except there's one thing in my favour. He doesn't know that I know he's after me. He thinks he can just creep up behind me, but actually we're like children in that game when you circle round the tree, each pursuing the other and fleeing from them at the same time. But he thinks I don't know he's coming to get me. If you see what I mean.'
'Abbie ...'
'There's something else too. I'm not just following him, or at least intending to follow him, once I know where to start. I'm following me the me I can't remember, I mean. Like Grandmother's Footsteps.'
'Hang on .. .'
'Maybe Grandmother's Footsteps isn't quite right. But presumably the me that I can't remember may have tried to find out where Jo was. I would have done, wouldn't I? If I'm doing it now I would have done it then. Don't you think it's a possibility? That's what I
was thinking.'
'What time did you wake this morning?'
'About five, I think. My mind was racing. What I need is a piece of solid evidence I can take to Cross. Then they'll start the investigation and protect me and everything will be fine. So if I retrace my footsteps, which were retracing Jo's footsteps, then I may end up where I ended up before.'
'Which, if you remember what happened to you, doesn't sound like a good idea at all.'
'The problem, of course, is that I can't retrace my footsteps because I can't remember them.'
'Do you want some more coffee?'
'Yes, please. And I don't know what Jo's footsteps were either. But, anyway, there was only a small amount of time between when she disappeared and when I was grabbed. I'm sure of that at least, because I know from Peter she was around on Wednesday morning, and I disappeared on Thursday evening.'
'Abbie.' Ben took both of my hands and held them between his own. 'Slow down a bit.'
'Am I gabbling?'
'It's ten past seven and we went to sleep late. I'm not at my sharpest.'
'I've been thinking I need to follow up the cat.'
'Sorry?'
'Jo was going to get a kitten. Her neighbour in the downstairs flat told me that. She'd bought everything for it, and I'm guessing she was just about to get it. If I could find out where she was going to get it from well, anyway, I can't think of anything else to do. I have to begin somewhere.'
'So now you're planning to track down a cat?'
'I'll ask at the pet shop and the post office, where they pin up notices. The vet, too. They often have notices, don't they? It's probably pointless, but if you've any better ideas I'd love to hear them.'
Ben looked at me for a long, long time. I imagined him thinking:
Is this worth it? Because I did have some insight into my condition: I might have been babbling but at least I knew I was babbling.
'I tell you what,' he said. 'I've got to pick up some letters at the office. I'll give some instructions to the guys. I'll be back here mid-morning and we can do it together.'
'Really?'
'I don't like the thought of you wandering around on your own.'
'You don't have to do this, you know. You're not responsible for me or anything.'
'We talked about this last night. Remember?'
'Thank you,' I said. 'Very much.'
'So, what are you going to do while I'm gone?'
'I'm going to call Cross again, though I can't imagine he'll be very pleased to hear from me.'
'You have to, though.'
'I know.'
'I'll call Jo's parents' house from work. There was no reply yesterday evening. We should go and see them before I contact the police.'
'Yes. Oh dear.'
'I know.'
Ben left before eight. I had a scalding shower and made myself another cup of coffee. Then I called Cross, but was told he wouldn't be back in his office till the afternoon. I almost cried with impatience. Half a day is a long time when you feel every minute might count. I had a couple of hours before Ben returned. I cleared up the kitchen and changed the sheets on the bed. His house was more grown-up than anything I was used to. It struck me that Terry and I had lived a bit like students. Everything in our lives had seemed temporary, where and how we lived just arrangements we'd stumbled into. We'd got by, but messily and, in the end, violently. Ben's life was stable and considered. He was doing the job he wanted to do; he lived in a lovely house, where each room was painted a different colour and was full of carefully chosen objects. I opened his wardrobe. He had just two suits, but they looked expensive. His shirts hung neatly on their hangers, above three pairs of leather shoes. Things don't just happen to him, I thought. He chooses them. And he chose me, and he'd missed me when I'd gone. I shivered with pleasure.
He came back just after ten. I was waiting for him, dressed in warm clothes and with a notebook in my bag. I also had the photograph of Jo, which I thought might jog people's memories.
'Jo's parents aren't back till tomorrow,' he said. 'I spoke to the dog-sitter again. They spent an extra night in Paris. We should drive over to their place in the afternoon. It's not far, just on the other side of the M25.'
'That'll be grim.'
'Yes,' he said. For a moment, his face was wiped of all expression. Then he said, with forced cheeriness, 'All right. Cat time.'
'You're sure you're up for this? I mean, it's probably a wild-goose chase. Wrong metaphor.'
'I'll have you for company.' He wrapped an arm round me and we went out to his car. I briefly remembered my own car, stuck in a bloody pound somewhere, but pushed away the thought. I could deal with all of those things later. Friendships, family, work, money (chronic lack of), tax forms, parking tickets, overdue library books, everything had to wait.
We parked in a small street a few hundred yards away from Jo's flat. We'd planned to make a circuit of the area, stopping off at every news agent that had cards in the window. It was a boring, frustrating business. The vet's was a dead end. Nobody in the shops recognized Jo's photo, and only a few had cards advertising pets.
After nearly two hours, I had written down three telephone numbers. When we went back to the car, Ben phoned them on his mobile. Two of the cards turned out to have been put up in the last few days so were irrelevant. The other card had been up for longer and, when Ben rang the number, the woman said that there was still one kitten without a home but we probably wouldn't want it.
She lived on the estate just round the corner so we called in on her. The kitten was a tabby and still tiny. The
