The Girl I Used to Be(25)

I set the CCTV to play. The grainy screen hurt my eyes right from the beginning. I tried to remember what time he’d come in, but decided to put it to run from eight A.M., just in case he’d arrived early and gone for coffee.

Nothing happened at all until eight thirty, when I arrived at the office.

On the screen I could see my car enter the empty car park at the back of our office. I watched myself get out of my car, lock it with my key fob, then leave the car park, turning in the direction of the office. Fifteen minutes later Rachel drove in and neatly reversed into the space next to mine. She sat in the car for a few minutes—I couldn’t see what she was doing but guessed she was checking her makeup or on her phone—and then she jumped out and waved at someone on the street. I assumed that was Sophie; they usually arrived at about the same time. Two minutes later, Brian’s car entered the car park. He parked nearest to the exit, as he tended to come and go all day.

Nothing happened for the next couple of hours. Then at ten thirty I saw myself walk into view, throw my bag into the backseat of my car, and drive off. It was clear that David hadn’t parked there.

I closed down the CCTV and thought about what to do. My office is on a corner, with the car park behind it. We’re opposite a restaurant and I know they don’t have cameras there. On the other side of the road is a charity bookshop—no cameras there, either. However, if you walk farther up the street to the end of the block, there is a small shop that sells newspapers and groceries. The owner and manager, Michael, was a guy I’d known for a few years through our local small business association. I guessed he’d have a CCTV system because of the problem he’d had with shoplifters at times.

I locked up the office and walked down the street to Michael’s shop. I had to wait awhile behind people who were picking up groceries, then asked the assistant if Michael was free. When she called him, he came out of his office at the back of the shop and beckoned me over.

“Are your CCTV cameras working?” I asked. I explained that I was concerned about a client of ours but didn’t say anything more than that. I said I wanted to see whether he could see him onscreen, as I wanted to go to the police about him. Michael raised his eyebrows at that, but ushered me into his office and switched on his machine.

“When did you want to check?”

“June sixteenth,” I said.

Immediately he stopped. “I’m sorry, Gemma, but we only store them for a week. It’s an old system and we store them on rewritable disks. Every week I erase everything and start again. There’s no point in us keeping it any longer if there hasn’t been any trouble. What’s he been up to?”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell him the full story, obviously, but I needed him to understand why I wanted to check.

“We had someone come in who was a bit odd,” I said. “He freaked me out a bit. I checked out his contact details and he was lying about who he was. I wanted to see whether I could find a picture of him.”

“I don’t blame you. Remember Suzy Lamplugh?”

I winced. Suzy Lamplugh was an estate agent in London who took a client to view a property and was never seen again. It was discovered later that the client had given a false name when he’d made the appointment. I was only too aware of her whenever I thought of David. The responsibility I had to my staff, sending them into empty properties with people we didn’t know, was huge. I decided that the next day I’d tell the staff they had to ask for official ID before showing a client any properties. I’d make them take a photocopy of it, so that at least if something happened, the police would know who was responsible.

“That’s why I need to know who he is,” I said. “I need to protect my staff.”

And protect myself, too.





SEVENTEEN


Monday, July 31

THE NEXT MORNING I woke with a start. I thought someone had held me by the shoulder and hip and had turned me over in my bed. It was the strangest sensation, as though I could still feel hands gripping me tightly and then letting me go as I landed facedown on the bed. I couldn’t resist, could only do what the hands were making me do. My heart thumped and I gasped.

I opened my eyes and saw that the room was light; it was nearly time to get up. “Joe?” I touched his shoulder, but he grunted and moved away. “Joe, did you move me, just then?”

“Eh?” Slowly he wakened and turned over to face me. “What?”

“Did you turn me over in bed?”

He looked bemused. “I was asleep, Gem. I didn’t do anything.”

“That was really weird. Are you sure?”

He closed his eyes. “You must have been dreaming, honey,” he said. “I was nowhere near you.”

My heart was pounding still from the sensation of being moved, and I lay on my side, away from Joe, and tried to calm myself. It was a dream; it had to have been.

The bedroom door opened then and Rory came into the room. I lifted the quilt and he slipped in beside me. I held him to me and kissed his forehead. It was hot and damp.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” I whispered.

He shook his head and put his hand on his throat. “It’s all sore.”

Just then my alarm went off. I reached out to switch it off, and Rory held on tightly.

“Are you at home today, Mum?”