Seven Days(53)

Martin caught her staring at it. ‘You can have it,’ he said. ‘I’m not hungry.’

She shook her head. ‘Me neither. I’ll eat after the gym.’ That was where she had told him she was going. ‘I need to leave. See you later.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll text you when James shows up.’





5


James opened his eyes. The room he was in was dark, but there was light coming from the edges of the curtains.

So it was daytime, then.

He lay still, listening to the throb in his head. He was on a mattress, on the floor. On the far side of the room was a bed. It was unoccupied, but the covers had been kicked off, so someone had slept in it.

Vicki.

They had sat by the canal drinking the vodka she had taken from her bag. He remembered telling her about Maggie, and about how he didn’t want ever to be vulnerable to losing someone again, which was why he’d said he had a girlfriend, but he didn’t, not really.

And she had said not to worry, she didn’t want a boyfriend. She had a story too. The story of why she had left Durham to come here.

Her mum had died, and her dad was useless without her. Kind, and loving, but useless, and he had a friend, an evil pig called Jerry, who was not so kind and loving, and who took an interest in his friend’s daughter, and told her he would kill her if she said anything.

And she believed him. If he could do what he did then why would he not be capable of murder?

So she fled, and made a life here. And she told him she could see he was hurt as badly as she was and that made them safe for each other.

Then they had come here, to her flat, and drunk the rest of the vodka and he had gone to sleep on the mattress, Vicki in the bed, both glad the other had no interest in anything other than that.

He stood up – he was still fully clothed – and swayed as his head swam. When he was no longer dizzy he left the room. There was a corridor leading to an open door. Through it he could see a fridge and sink.

Vicki was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking. She looked up at him and smiled.

‘Feel OK?’

‘A bit rough.’

‘Me too. Coffee?’

He nodded. There was a cup in the sink; he rinsed it out and poured a coffee from a pot on the hob.

‘God,’ he said. ‘I feel awful.’

Vicki tapped her cigarette ash on to a saucer. ‘It’s a hangover. It’ll pass.’

‘Doesn’t do it justice.’ He swallowed half his coffee. ‘Thanks for letting me crash. I should get going.’

He reached for his phone. There were a lot of messages. The most recent was from his dad.

Hi. Let me know if you need a lift home. I’ve got work but can dip out.

His dad would be worried. He always was. He typed a reply.

I’m OK. Can take a bus.

He scrolled through the others. Toby, Mo. Andy. Asking where he’d got to, if he was with Vicki. If he’d got some action.

He felt sick. He didn’t want to talk to them about last night. Didn’t want to have to explain what had happened when he’d seen the girl who looked like Maggie.

He wanted to forget, but everything was a reminder.

‘Are you leaving?’ Vicki said. ‘You have somewhere to be?’

‘Not really,’ he said. He gestured to the door of the flat. ‘And I can’t face it anyway. I want to disappear.’

Vicki stood up and opened a cupboard. ‘I can’t help you with that,’ she said. ‘But I do have this.’ She took out a bottle. It looked like whisky. Cheap whisky; there was a picture of a boat on the label. She poured a slug into her coffee. ‘Want some?’

James looked at her, then shrugged.

‘Why not?’ he said.





6


Sandra sat in the treatment room at the hospital and wished she’d told Martin so he was with her now. She was sure this was going to turn out to be nothing, but right at that moment she was terrified.

A nurse opened the door to the treatment room.

‘Mrs Cooper?’

Sandra stood up.

‘Come with me. I’m Jazz. I’ll get you prepped for the procedure. It’s quite straightforward. We’ll pop a line in for the sedative and get you settled to wait for the doctor.’

Jazz took her into a room and indicated that she should lie on the bed. She took her hand and rubbed the skin until she had found a vein. Then she inserted a needle and taped it down.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘All ready. I’ll be back in a moment.’

She left the room. Sandra reached for her phone and checked her messages. Maybe Martin had figured out what was going on and was on his way.

Nothing.

Jazz came back into the room. ‘We’re ready. I’ll take you down.’ She pulled the bed through the door and pushed it down the corridor. Sandra felt like saying she could walk, but she lay back.

Maybe this is the future, she thought. If something’s wrong. Being pushed around in hospital beds.

Which was a charm against it being wrong. If she accepted it was possible then it wouldn’t happen. That was the opposite of what she had done when Maggie disappeared. Then she had thought, This can’t be happening to me, she’ll come back. It had taken days for her to accept that something serious really had happened. Maybe if she’d thought that immediately, Maggie would have been OK.