The door slammed behind her and she tried to still her rapid breathing. She didn’t wait for the elevator, hurrying down the stairs instead, with Rufus all eager pedaling legs behind her. The fresh air helped to calm her and she walked the short distance to the wine shop, then tied Rufus up outside. There were usually a handful of customers discussing wine with the importance of a peace treaty, but she was the only one in the shop and was served quickly. Clutching her bottle in a thick plastic bag, she stood outside. She wasn’t ready to go back to the flat, not enough time had passed for the atmosphere to dissipate, and so she untied Rufus from the post and took him for the walk she’d claimed he needed.
* * *
Laura sat and flicked through the channels, irritated by the lack of quality television. She did not want to watch another lifestyle show flimsily dressed up as a serious cooking program. Unsettled, as usual, on her own, she had spent the day mooching around the house feeling agitated. After her disastrous visit to Wendy, she was at a loss as to what to do next. There was nothing she could do, and this frightened her, made her feel like a sitting duck.
Laura considered checking her phone again, but she already knew that Daniel hadn’t replied to the message she’d left. The hollow ache in her chest flared up and she stood quickly, looking for a distraction. She would try to read some of her book.
She went upstairs to her bedroom, but the book wasn’t on the bedside table as she’d thought. In a knee-jerk panic, she wondered if anyone had been in the house. Only Mrs. Moore, she remembered, with a tinge of embarrassment. Perhaps she’d moved the book elsewhere when she’d cleaned. Laura looked across at the windowsill; then pulling the curtains back a touch, she found the book and was about to let the curtain drop again, when a movement outside caught her eye.
Cherry was standing on the opposite pavement, under the streetlight, staring up at the house. Laura instantly recoiled, dropping the curtain. It fell partially closed, leaving a small sliver of a gap, a dazzling slice of light into which Laura knew Cherry could see perfectly. If she wanted to leave the room, Laura would have to cross this opening. She stood there, scrunched up into herself, backed into the wall....God, I am cowering. She stared at the back of the curtain, an angry whimper escaping, before she pulled her breath in sharply.I mustn’t let her do this. But Laura was paralyzed.
She stood there for what seemed like ages, unable to decide whether to look again, to see if Cherry was still there, when she heard a dog barking. A small dog, as it was a light, happy sound . . . or perhaps a puppy.A puppy.Laura pulled the curtains back and there, being coerced by Cherry out of the opposite neighbor’s garden, was a brown cocker spaniel puppy. It bounded around her, tangling itself in its leash and licking her hand as she bent down to stroke it.
Laura stared.The same as the one sent to her actress.The one Cherry had killed.What the hell is she doing coming around to the house.... My God, she’stauntingme.
Then suddenly Cherry looked up and Laura was filled with a frenzied rage at her casual arrogance. Without thinking, she dropped the curtain and ran downstairs so fast she almost tripped.She flung open the front door and launched herself onto the pavement.
The street was empty. She drew a sharp breath and looked up and down, but Cherry had gone. The night was still and dark, with just small pools of light spreading a short distance from the foot of each streetlamp. Then something else appeared from behind the wall of her opposite neighbor. A fox. It saw her and stared brazenly for a moment before turning and trotting up the street. The fear returned and Laura realized the door was open behind her. Heart hammering, she quickly retreated and, slamming it shut, bolted it.
* * *
Daniel stared in bewilderment at the slammed door. Cherry hadn’t wanted him to go and see his mum—that much was obvious. Part of him didn’t blame her; she had, after all, been treated abominably but . . . Oh, who knew? He suddenly felt exhausted and sat listlessly at the table. The wineglasses, cutlery, napkins, even flowers, for God’s sake, suddenly seemed like a full-on attack, and then he instantly felt guilty. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to make amends tonight. Perhaps he was being inconsiderate, suggesting he go and visit Laura. His phone beeped and he picked it up, expecting a photo of a wine label, Cherry’s suggestion for the evening, but it was a Facebook e-mail telling him of a message request. He didn’t immediately recognize the sender, and when he opened it, he read it, confused:Hi, Daniel, I hope you don’t mind me getting in touch, but there’s something I want to talk to you about. Could you give me a call when you can? Thanks, Wendy
At the end of the message was a London phone number.
It took a second for him to realize the e-mail was from Cherry’s mother. He was curious as to why she could be messaging him, and something made him call back, there and then.
“Hello?”
“Wendy, it’s Daniel.”
“Blimey, you was quick.”
“I got your message.”
“Oh, good.”
She was unforthcoming with much else and he felt he had to prompt. “You asked me to call.”
“I know, I know. Is Cherry with you?”
“No, she’s gone to the wine merchant.”
She fell silent and he realized he sounded a bit of a snob:wine merchant.But it wasn’t just that, it was as if she was plucking up the courage to say something.
“I found you on Facebook.”
“Okay.”
“This is extremely hard for me to say . . . but I feel I need to.” She paused. “Your mum came to see me the other day. She said some stuff that I didn’t like hearing. . . .”
Daniel could feel himself getting riled and must’ve exhaled or something, as Wendy continued with: “I know what you’re thinking. She’s got it in for Cherry. And she has in a way but . . . oh, God . . .” Wendy took a deep breath. “This is about the worst thing I ever done, but . . . there’s a good chance your mum’s right.”
“Oh, Wendy, no, no . . . you can’t let Mum get to you. She’s got a real problem with Cherry, and I’m really sorry about it, but—”
“Just shush and listen.” Wendy paused. “Like I said, I think she’s right.”
He had no choice but to ask. “Right about what?”
