'How long were you together?'
'Two years.'
'Two years that's a long time. What happened?'
'Nearly a year ago now, she fell in love with someone else and left me.'
'Stupid woman,' I said. 'Who could ever leave you?' I stroked his soft hair. It was still only afternoon, and here we were, lying under the duvet as if we were in a small cave, while outside the world closed in. 'Were you very hurt?'
'Yes,' he said. 'I suppose I was.'
'But you're all right now? Are you?'
'Now I am.'
'We need to talk about Jo,' I said, after a bit.
'I know. I feel I shouldn't be so happy.' He leant across, switched on the bedside lamp and we both blinked in the sudden dazzle. 'So she was looking for a cat on Wednesday afternoon, and you were looking for her on Thursday.'
'Yes.'
'You're following yourself
'Like that mad cat woman said round and round in circles.'
Twenty-three
Ben went out to buy food for supper, and on a sudden impulse I rang Sadie.
'Hi there,' I said. 'Guess who?'
'Abbie? God, Abbie, where've you disappeared to? Do you realize I don't even have a phone number for you? I was at Sam's yesterday evening; he was having a little birthday get-together, and we all said how odd it was you weren't with us. We even toasted you. Well, we toasted absent friends, and that was mainly you. But nobody knew how to get hold of you. It's as if you've fallen off the face of the earth.'
'I know, I know. And I'm sorry. I miss all of you, but, well I can't explain now. I should have remembered his birthday; I've never forgotten it before. But things are, well, rather dramatic'
'Are you all right?'
'Kind of. In a way yes and in a way no.'
'Very mysterious. When can I see you? Where are you staying?'
'At a friend's,' I said vaguely. 'And we'll meet soon. I just need to sort things out first. You know.' What I wanted to say was: I just need to save my life first. But that sounded insane. It even felt insane, here in Ben's house, with the lights on and the radiators humming and from the kitchen the sound of the dishwasher.
'Yes, but listen, Abbie, I've talked to Terry.'
'Have you? Is he all right? Have the police let him go yet?'
'Yup, finally. I think they kept him as long as they were legally-entitled to, though.'
'Thank God for that. Is he all over the place?'
'You could say that. He's been trying to get hold of you.'
I'll call him. At once. But is he still under suspicion, or what?'
'I don't know. He wasn't being exactly rational when I talked to him. I think he was a bit pissed.'
'Sadie, I'll go now. I'll call Terry at once. And I'll come and see you soon, very soon.'
'Do that.'
'Is Pippa well?'
'She's gorgeous.'
'Well, I know that. You are too, Sadie.'
'What?'
'Gorgeous. You're gorgeous. I'm lucky to have friends like you. Tell everyone I love them.'
'Abbie?'
'Everyone. Tell Sheila and Guy and Sam and Robin and well, everyone. When you see them, tell them I .. .' I suddenly caught sight of myself in the mirror over the fireplace. I was waving my hand around hysterically, like an opera singer. 'Well, you know. Send my love, at least.'
'You're sure you're all right?'
'It's all so weird, Sadie.'
'Listen-'
'I've got to go. I'll call you.'
I called Terry. The phone rang and rang, and just as I was about to give up, he answered.
'Hello.' His voice was slurred.
Terry? It's me, Abbie.'
'Abbie,' he said. 'Oh, Abbie.'
'They've let you go.'
'Abbie,' he repeated.
'I'm so sorry, Terry. I told them it couldn't be you. Did your dad tell you I rang? And I'm so sorry about Sally. I can't tell you how sorry.'
'Sally,' he said. 'They thought I killed Sally.'
'I know.'
'Please,' he said.
'What? What can I do?'
'I need to see you. Please, Abbie.'
'Well, it's difficult right now.' I couldn't go to his house he might be waiting there for me.
The front door opened and Ben came in, with two carrier-bags.
'I'll call you back,' I said. 'In a few minutes. Don'tgo away.' Putting the phone down, I turned to Ben and said, 'I have to see Terry. He sounds terrible and it's because of me, all of this. I owe him.'
He sighed and put his bags on the floor. 'There was I, planning a romantic dinner for two. Stupid.'
'I have to, don't I? You do see?'
'Where?'
'Where what?'
'Where do you want to meet him?'
'Not at his place, that's for sure.'
'No. Here?'
'That would be too odd.'
'Odd? Well, we can't have odd, can we?'
'Maybe a cafe or something is better. Not a pub he sounded as if he'd drunk quite enough already. Tell me somewhere near here.'
'There's one on Belmont Avenue, at the park end of the road. The something Diner.'
'Ben?'
'What?'
'Will you come with me?'
'I'll drive you there and wait outside in the car.'
'Ben?'
'Yes, Abbie.'
'I appreciate it.'
'Then that makes it all worthwhile,' he said drily.
Forty-five minutes later I was sitting in the Diner (it was just called the Diner), drinking cappuccino and watching the door. Terry arrived ten minutes later, muffled up in an old greatcoat and a woollen hat. He was slightly unsteady on his feet and his face had a wild look about it.
He came over to my table and sat down too noisily. He pulled off his hat. His hair was a bit greasy and his cheeks, red with cold or drink, had a new gaunt look to them.
'Hello, Terry,' I said, and put my hands over his.
'Your hair is growing back.'
'Is it?'
