I Am Watching You(75)

Anna stands very still, just watching her. She has to position her legs wider apart to stop the swaying. Everything is swaying. The room and the shadows and the lights and the people. The music pounding right through the floor and up through her body. She feels her eyes narrowing and her vision is ever so slightly blurred. She sees a man looking at her, swigging from his beer bottle. He winks. She looks away, suddenly all paranoia. Again checks her handbag, its long strap across her body. Checks the zip. Her purse. Her phone.

She follows the signs to the toilets and waits for a free cubicle. Puts down the lid. Sits down and leans forward to try to calm herself; takes out her phone. She skims the contacts. Home. She looks at the word, blurring in front of her. She thinks of her dad in the car. How angry with him she was. The photograph. Him and that woman. She lets her finger hover for a moment but then – no. She wipes her thumb against her dress. She considers the fallout; that her mother will never, ever let her do anything on her own again. She sits for a while, wonders how long it will be until she feels more steady. For just a moment, she thinks of Sarah’s dad but then remembers the warning . . . If you phone my dad, I will never speak to you again.

Anna has had too much to drink before, but never on her own. Not like this. She wishes that she had downloaded the app for taxis but Sarah had said she would do that.

She has no choice, then. Anna decides to go outside and hail a cab. She remembers that it must be a black cab, has read about the danger of fake minicab drivers. She feels afraid and so, to calm herself, she tries to picture herself in the back of the cab. Safe. Right up to the front door of the hotel. Where she will ring Sarah and maybe her parents next, even the police if Sarah still won’t listen, still won’t come . . .

Outside it is drizzling. There are a few people smoking. Quite a narrow street. Hardly any traffic. She waits a while and tries not to look at anyone. But no cars pass. No taxis. She sees the bouncer at the door and wonders if he might help her find a cab but he is suddenly distracted by a group of three men who are playing up because he won’t let them in.

She is getting wet. Still feels so unsteady on her feet. And then . . .

‘Anna. What on earth are you doing here?’

She turns, and relief and surprise and a whole myriad of emotions flood through her so that she bursts into tears.

‘Tim. Oh my God.’

He is shushing her and she is embarrassed and relieved all at once. Wiping her face with her sleeve.

‘Oh God, Tim, I’m so pleased to see you. But what on earth . . . I thought you were in Scotland?’ She is clutching at both his arms, using them to steady herself. Confusion. Relief. Disorientation.

‘Where’s Sarah?’ Tim is looking right into her face.

‘In the club. She won’t come. I’m trying to find a taxi. I can’t make her come.’

‘Well, you won’t find a cab here. No chance.’ He is glancing around the street. ‘Come on. This way. Let’s get you out of this rain.’

Tim is leading her then by the arm, and she expects him to take her into a doorway. A café or a pub or something. The tube? But he is saying that the tube stopped hours ago and they need to get to a place where they can order her a cab. ‘This way. We need to take the night bus. Just a few stops. Then we can get you a taxi easily.’

They seem to be walking quite a long way. A bus stop. Then on the bus. No one else. She asks, ‘Does the bus go near the hotel?’ She gives him the address again. He says no. It doesn’t go that far. But she is not to worry. They will be able to order her a cab for the last stretch.

And then they are off the bus, walking again. And Tim is saying, ‘Here it is. The flat. Here. We can get you dry and order the cab from here. Wait in the dry.’ She can hear keys jangling. There is a porch which is keeping them dry. And then they are inside.

A narrow hall, then a sitting room with a bay window. Brown curtains.

He is explaining that this is the flat left to him by his father. To be rented out so the income can fund him through uni. That was the deal in the will. The reason he is in town. The trip to Scotland got cancelled. This flat is normally let. ‘Remember, I told you all, when my dad died?’

She does, sort of. Vaguely. Tim’s dad showed no interest in him all his life, then suddenly got cancer. Got God. Got in touch. No one else in his life, so put Tim in his will . . . She is glad to be safe. Out of the rain. But where is the tenant? And how far are they from her hotel now?

Tim says the tenant has just done a bunk and he’s in town to tidy the place up. Sort out a new lease. He was planning to contact her tomorrow to explain Scotland was cut short; see if he could meet her and Sarah after all.

‘I thought you girls were at a musical tonight?’

She explains how the club was recommended online. Does not mention Karl and Antony. Ashamed. She can hear her words slurring still and tries to speak more slowly. She feels so embarrassed; she does not want Tim to judge her. She is trying to sound sensible, but she is wondering now what he was doing near the club. He says he had a curry with a mate at an Indian nearby.

‘Just as well, eh? You shouldn’t be on your own, Anna. Not in London. Especially that bit. Dodgy area.’

‘You were there.’

‘It’s different for blokes.’

And now Anna needs to sit down. She’s still so woozy.

‘Right. We need to make sure Sarah is OK, too,’ he is saying. ‘I’ll go back for her once you’re OK. She’ll be safe in the club for now.’ He is taking out his phone; she hears him ordering a cab for her. Double-checks the name of her hotel. He says cabs are more reliable this time of night when you order them to come to an address. They are saying it will be fifteen minutes. Not too bad. Right. So he will see her off safely, then he will go back himself for Sarah. Bring her to the hotel. Is she OK with this?