The Girl I Used to Be(34)

I woke in the early hours with a terrific jolt. My heart banged and for a moment I didn’t know where I was. It wasn’t a dream; it was as though a memory had come back to me when I was asleep.

I remembered then that I’d switched the lamps on in the hotel room before I went down to the bar, so that the room would be lit when I came back. I could remember it clearly. Each lamp was on a built-in bedside table, either side of the bed, and had a little silver chain that I’d pulled to switch them on. I could actually remember that physical act of reaching over and pulling each chain. One of them stuck a bit and I had to hold the lamp steady so that I could pull the chain sharply. The main light switch next to the door only controlled the overhead light. I’d noticed that again when I was shown the room the day before.

When I woke in the hotel bed that morning in June, with a crashing hangover and a thirst worse than I’d ever had before, those lamps were switched off. I hadn’t done that. I would never do that. It was the one thing I couldn’t help. I just can’t sleep in the dark, no matter where I am. It was something Joe and Rory had had to get used to, though of course I’d never told Rory why.

I looked around my room. The two bedside lamps were lit and the door to the en suite was ajar; I always left the light above the mirror switched on there. On the landing outside my room the light was permanently on at night, even though I slept with my door shut tight when Rory was away from home.

It was the way it always was. It was the way it had to be.





TWENTY-FOUR


Saturday, August 5

BACK AT WORK the next morning, it was hard to keep up the pretense that everything was all right.

“You look tired,” said Rachel as soon as she arrived. “Was everything okay with your mum?”

For a second or two I wondered what she was talking about, then I remembered the lie I’d told the day before. “I’m fine, thanks. She’s okay.”

I saw her give me a sidelong look but I ignored her, busying myself at my computer. She came over to my desk and I thought for a second she was going to ask more questions, but she just said, “Can you add Mr. and Mrs. Hudson to the viewing requests? I’ve put their details in the system.”

I just started to answer when my phone vibrated in my handbag in my desk drawer. “Sorry,” I said. “I need to check it’s not Joe.”

She went back to her desk and I took out my phone.

My heart sank. On the screen was an Instagram message from WatchingYou. I closed my eyes for a second. That name was so apt. I struggled to think about anything else.

I glanced over at Rachel. “Won’t be a minute.” I touched the Allow button.

Our Internet connection was always pretty slow, and it seemed to take seconds for the photo to download onto my phone. I held my breath. Slowly, almost a pixel at a time, the full photo was revealed.

I was lying on the hotel bed again and this time I was completely naked. There wasn’t even a sheet or blanket to cover me. There was no expression on my face; I wasn’t smiling or frowning, just staring straight at the person taking the photo.

As I looked at it in disbelief, it disappeared from view and immediately another message came up, causing the phone to vibrate again.

It was a screenshot of my Facebook page, just as it was when I saw it earlier that day. Within a couple of seconds, that, too, had disappeared.



* * *



*

I SLAMMED THE phone into my drawer.

“What’s up?” asked Brian. He came over to my desk. “Gemma, are you all right?”

I couldn’t answer. All I could think of was how I would feel if someone put that photo of me on Facebook for all my friends to see. For my mum and dad to see. For Joe to see.

“You’re shaking,” said Rachel. “What’s the matter?”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. It’s just . . .”

They looked at me expectantly, but I couldn’t think of a thing to say. What could I say? And I remembered they were friends with me on Facebook, too. I took my phone from my drawer. “Just give me a few minutes, will you?” I went out the back door to the car park and checked Facebook. I breathed a sigh of relief. The photo wasn’t there. Quickly I looked through all the notifications; there was nothing unusual there. I deactivated my account. I started to come back into the office but then went back outside and deactivated my Twitter and LinkedIn accounts, too. I hesitated over the Instagram account. I didn’t know what to do; should I get rid of it and have him find another way of getting in touch? I hovered over the screen, trying to work out what to do, but then Brian called my name, asking again whether I was okay, and I slid the phone back in my pocket. I’d decide later.

When I went back to my desk, Rachel went to the fridge and took out a bottle of water. She passed it to me but didn’t say anything. I was grateful for that; I couldn’t tell her why I’d reacted so badly. My head thumped and I realized I was stupid to take it all on myself.

“Rachel,” I said suddenly, “will you take over the meeting?”

“Me?” She looked dumbfounded.

“It will be a good experience for you. You could stand in for me then, whenever I’m off work.”

She blushed, and I could tell she was feeling proud. “Yes, of course.” She called over to the others, “We’ll have our meeting in ten minutes.”