‘I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t have to.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m choosing not to get offended by that, appreciating that me being the creep is slightly less horrific than it not being me, and that you’re clutching at straws here.’
‘I thought it might be some bizarre countryside custom.’
‘Running about the woods scaring the pants off women?’ He handed me his phone. ‘Call the police. It’ll make their day, something more interesting than a missing cat to investigate.’
‘But it’s not really a crime, is it? I wasn’t hurt. I didn’t even see them.’
‘No, but they can keep an eye out.’
I hesitated.
‘You might prevent something awful happening.’
I called the nearest police station, and a straight-to-the-point policewoman who instructed me to call her Brenda promised to visit later that day. Mack’s gaze was steady. ‘You should have knocked on my door last night.’
‘I was too busy panicking to think.’ I tried to smile. ‘I did bang on the wall a few times.’
‘That was you?’ He looked apologetic. ‘I thought it was the boiler playing up.’
‘Maybe I should have your phone number?’
Notthe circumstances in which I’d imagined uttering that sentence.
We swapped numbers, and I stood up. ‘Right. I’d best get back, then. Don’t want to miss PC Brenda.’ I put my phone in my jeans pocket, took it out again and looked at the screen for no reason, slid it back in. Nodded my head a few times. ‘Thanks for listening. And for your phone number. Good to know you can call me if you need rescuing.’
I shuffled over to the door, opened it, turned back to face Mack but couldn’t think of a single other excuse to delay going back to the empty, lonely, rustly side of the building.
He’d gone. Without even saying goodbye.
‘Sorry.’ He hurried back into the kitchen. ‘I was getting my laptop. Oh, and I need my shoes. Hold on.’ He vanished into the hall again, popping back in a few seconds later. ‘Right. Ready. Let’s go.’
‘Um. Go where?’
‘To your house. To wait for the police.’
‘You’re coming with me?’ I asked, momentarily confused.
‘Would you rather I didn’t?’ Mack said. ‘Because from the way you were dithering by the door I assumed you were nervous about being home alone.’
‘I wasn’t dithering. Sheesh, Mack. Every time you do something kind you have to open your mouth and ruin it.’
‘Yeah. So I’ve been told.’ His face darkened, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the telling had probably been done by the invisible was-she-real-or-invented-to-keep-me-away wife.
‘I don’t need you to babysit me. I’ll lock my door and keep my phone close by. I’ll be fine,’ New Jenny said.
Please delete that comment,Old Jenny shouted in my head.
‘I’ll only be sat here worrying about you,’ he grunted.
‘You think I should be worrying?’ A shiver scampered up my back at the thought that Mack considered it a possibility that whoever it was might come to my house. Followed by a traitorous thrill right on its heels at the thoughthe’dbe worrying about me. The shiver slunk back down with the realisation he would probably only be worrying about getting dragged into facing a madman. Or that after a few days my mutilated corpse would start to smell. Or that the house would get burnt to the ground, taking Mack’s side with it…
‘I think there’s zero chance of that moron making an appearance.’ He shifted his laptop from one arm to the other. ‘But it’d be abnormal not to be freaking out a bit. It’s only neighbourly to provide you with some company.’
I smiled at him. ‘I think you’re scared to be alone in your cottage. And, in that case, you may come and reassure yourself with my presence while I sort through the filing cabinet I managed to pry open yesterday.’
‘Thanks.’ He nodded, sombrely. ‘I owe you one.’
