The Last House on Needless Street(68)

I make myself laugh. I make myself sound drunk and friendly. ‘You’re so smart,’ I say. ‘Did you follow me to the bar tonight?’

‘It was really bad luck that guy came into the bathroom,’ the bug man says, dreamily. ‘You would not have known otherwise. I’ve been watching you for a while.’

I have been careless and blind. I let him see who I am.

‘You broke into my house,’ I say. ‘It wasn’t that neighbour lady, like I thought. But you made a mistake. You used different nails.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, there,’ he says, sounding injured. If I didn’t know better, I would believe him. ‘Ted, this is an opportunity. We can both benefit.’

‘How?’ I ask. ‘I can’t pay you more money.’

‘There can be money for both of us!’ he says. ‘The thing is,’ he leans close, ‘I was meant for more than a crappy little practice, listening to middle-aged housewives talk about how they’ve lost their self-esteem. I was top of my class, you know? I had that little hiccup, true, but I got my licence back, didn’t I? I deserve more than this. What’s the difference between me and those guys on the bestseller lists? Opportunity, that’s all.

‘When I met you, I knew I’d found something special – my case study. I had been posting those ads for cheap therapy for months. My dad used to say, if you wait long enough, evil always shows up. I think you can give me what I deserve. You’re at the centre of my book, Ted. Don’t worry, no one will ever know it’s you. I’ll change your name – Ed Flagman or something. I just need you to be honest with me – really honest.’

‘What do you want me to say?’ I wish he would stop talking. I’m going to have to do something I don’t like.

‘Let’s start at the beginning,’ he says. ‘The girl, Lauren, or Olivia, whatever you like to call her. Is she the first?’

‘The first what?’

‘The first of your “daughters”,’ he says. I can hear the quote marks around the word. ‘Is that the right word? Daughters? Wives? Or maybe you just call them kittens …’

‘You’re so dumb,’ I say, furious. ‘I thought I was the dumb one!’ But he’s smart enough to be dangerous.

His bloodshot eyes narrow. ‘Why do you go to that bar, Ted?’ he asks. ‘For your cat?’

I take him in my arms. ‘Don’t try to tell me what I am,’ I whisper in his ear. He gives a terrified belch. I hug him and hug him, panting and gripping tighter until I feel the sawing crack of his ribcage and the bug man seems to turn to water. His hand unclenches. Two small objects fall onto the table, catching the light. It is a pair of cufflinks, silver, inlaid with stone as red as blood, picked out gleaming under the neon. I stare at them for a moment. ‘You’re just a thief,’ I say into his ear, squeezing. ‘You steal everything – even thoughts. You can’t even write your own book.’ He moans.

There is a shout from behind me and someone comes out of the store; the sleepy man who sold us the beer.

I drop the bug man and he slumps onto the table. I run across the road into the welcoming arms of the woods. Branches whip my face, I stumble, ankle-deep in leaf mould. More than once I fall but I don’t stop, I push myself up on the slippery forest floor and I run and run towards home. The roar builds, stacking up in my throat, but I don’t let it out, not yet.

The front door closes behind me. I lock it with trembling hands. Then I ball my fists and I scream and scream until my throat is sore and my voice hoarse. Then I take a couple of deep breaths. I shove two yellow pills into my mouth and swallow them dry. They stick in my throat, clicking like two little stones. I choke them down. The bug man wasn’t dead, I don’t think. I have to pray he wasn’t. There is no time for feelings, and no time for fancy preparation. We have to go.

I pack quickly. Sleeping bag, tent, lighter. Water-purifying tablets, a coil of wire. I gather all the canned food in the house. It’s not much. Peaches, black beans, soup. After a moment of staring at it, I seize the bottle of bourbon and add it to the pack. I shove my warmest sweaters in. When the pack is full I put two jackets on, one over the other, and two pairs of socks. It will be too warm, but I’ve got to wear everything I don’t carry. I put all my pills in my pockets, rattling in their amber tubes. If ever there was a time to keep calm, this is it.

Then I go to the garden and dig up the knife. I shake it free of earth and hang it on my belt.





Olivia





Lauren’s voice reaches deep into my dream. It has the biting edge of panic. ‘Help,’ she hisses. ‘Olivia, he’s taking us away.’

I twitch an ear. The dark is quiet around me. I had been dreaming of sweet cream and it was very pleasant. I am not perhaps at my most receptive.

What?

‘Ted,’ she says. ‘He’s taking us outside, to the woods. You have to help.’

Oh, I say coldly. I’m just a stupid cat, I’m afraid. I can’t help.

‘Please,’ she says. ‘Please, you have to. I’m afraid.’ Her voice is like scratched glass. ‘Please, Olivia. It’s happening now. He’s making us into gods. This is our last chance.’

I say, I don’t exist. So that sounds like a you problem.