Tuesday, 1 November
Facebook: Much needed girlie night with the lovely Roxanne Furaha at La Fábrica.
‘Ooh, try the asparagus, Isla,’ Roxanne said, chewing and pointing at the grilled vegetable and feta cheese wrapped in prosciutto. ‘It’s totally yummy.’ Her brown eyes rolled in ecstasy, as she made orgasmic sounds that caused a laugh from two blokes at the next table.
‘I want what she’s having,’ one of them said.
La Fábrica, a recently opened tapas bar, had a modern, trendy feel, with live music and great food. Isla and Roxanne had been sitting by the window for about an hour, their table heaving with half-eaten bowls of tapas.
‘I love these little pork and apple thingies,’ Isla said, tucking in. ‘They’re to die for.’
‘God, I’m stuffed,’ Roxanne said, finally leaning back in her chair and rubbing her slender stomach. She stared at Isla. ‘So you’re really, really OK?’
Isla had told her about what happened at the supermarket, in case someone had seen her and mentioned it, but now she wanted to wipe the subject away, like an annoying smudge on a worktop. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Honestly. I’m totally, totally OK.’ She took a gulp of her lemonade, wondering what her friend would think if she knew Isla had kept the appeal from her, and a surge of guilt ran through her.
Roxanne slipped off her copper-coloured silk jacket, and hung it on the back of the chair. She looked amazing: her black hair spiralling to her shoulders, her narrow-legged jeans and tight white T-shirt hugging her lanky figure. Her heels were like stilts. It was a look Isla wouldn’t even attempt to pull off.
‘It couldn’t have been him. You know that, right?’
‘Yep. I just feel a bit of a numpty wailing like a fool in front of all those customers at the supermarket. They must have thought I was crazy.’
‘Nobody would ever think that.’
But Isla wondered if her friend thought exactly that. After all, she’d been there. Seen her at her worst. The way she’d refused to go out. Her bursts of anger. She needed to put Roxanne’s mind at rest, before she thought she was taking a step backwards. She took a deep breath. ‘I do know it must have been some random person at the supermarket dressed like Carl Jeffery,’ she began, trying not to let it show how much she was struggling. ‘I mean, the bastard isn’t the only person to wear a beanie and scarf.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And he’s in prison,’ Isla went on, wishing there was alcohol in her glass, and she hadn’t opted to drive.
‘Where he belongs,’ Roxanne said, reaching over and touching her friend’s hand.
Isla shuddered, needing to change the subject. Trying to smile through the tension building in her neck and shoulders was impossible.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You know, for caring, and for being the best friend anyone could wish for – for never letting me down.’ Tears gathered close to the surface.
‘I’ll always be here for you, Isla,’ Roxanne said. ‘No matter what – you know that.’
‘Right, subject change, methinks,’ Isla said, taking another deep breath to ward off tears. ‘So how’s work?’
‘Yeah, pretty good.’ Roxanne picked up a green olive and popped it into her mouth. After leaving university, Roxanne had flitted from job to job, and later spent time in Africa doing voluntary work. Recently, she’d taken a job in marketing, although it didn’t stop her devoting every spare moment to working with charities, and a stream of good causes. ‘A new intern started this week who’s rather cute. Only eighteen though, and even I draw the line at cradle-snatching.’ She laughed. ‘Although …’
‘Roxanne, you’re a bad, bad lady.’
‘I know. I can’t help it.’ She giggled.
‘Maybe you’ll meet a nice bloke at my sister’s fortieth.’
‘I don’t want a nice bloke, Isla,’ she said, licking her fingers and winking at the man at the next table. ‘You know that. I like things the way they are.’
‘But you could be missing out …’
‘Enough!’ Roxanne put up her palm. ‘Talk to the hand …’
Isla laughed, picked up a spicy corn kernel, and nibbled on it.
‘Ooh,’ Roxanne blurted. ‘You haven’t told me how the reunion went. Did you meet up with Trevor Cooper?’
Isla shook her head, thoughts of his last message, and the way she’d blocked him on Facebook, filling her head. ‘He didn’t turn up,’ she said, deciding not to tell Roxanne about the message. She would only say she was a fool for going near him. ‘In fact, only Sara Pembroke came.’
‘I saw her picture on your Facebook. She looked amazing.’
‘I know. Stunning.’
‘So, nobody turned up but her?’
Isla shook her head.
‘That’s well weird.’
‘Aha, little bit. Still it’s probably for the best. I shouldn’t have gone in the first place.’
‘Did say.’ Roxanne pulled a smug face.
‘Yeah, I know.’ Isla paused, not wanting to talk about it any more. The subjects she actually wanted to chat about were dwindling. ‘And talking of Millie’s fortieth …’ she said.
‘Were we?’
‘Have you any idea where I can get a Minion cake by Saturday? Apparently I agreed to get one a while back. I can’t remember saying I would, but I guess I must have. Millie says she has the text to prove it, and she’s not afraid to use it.’ A grin stretched across her face. ‘Plus Jack’s already got his Spider-Man costume,’ she said, hoping he would have forgiven her by then. He’d seemed so distant that morning. ‘And I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to wear.’
‘Well, there’s a fancy-dress place in Hitchin. Maybe try there. And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Minion cakes in almost every supermarket I’ve been in.’
‘Cool,’ she said. ‘Sorted.’
‘Dessert?’ Roxanne picked up the menu.
‘Silly question,’ Isla said with a laugh.
Later, outside in the car park, they hugged goodbye. ‘See you Saturday,’ Roxanne said, as they got into their cars. Isla waved from the driving seat, as her friend pulled away, before turning the key in the ignition. The engine didn’t even attempt to whirr.
‘Christ,’ she muttered. They’d managed to jumpstart her car the day before, and it was working fine earlier.
She pulled her phone from her bag. There was no signal, so she climbed out of her car. A light breeze tickled her cheek, and there was a mizzling rain in the air. She glanced about her, suddenly aware how lonely the car park was, and took a few steps before getting a signal. She knew Jack well enough to know that even though things were a bit rocky between them, he would be there for her.
‘Hey, Jack,’ she said when he answered, raising her voice to make herself heard, as the line was poor. ‘You’ll never guess: my bloody battery has died again.’ The thought of walking the short route home across the park made her uneasy, and the long way would take over an hour. She hadn’t even brought an umbrella with her.
‘Where are you?’ He sounded a bit off, and she hated the way that made her feel.
‘La Fábrica, standing in the car park.’ She moved from foot to foot, feeling chilly and damp, as she looked around her once more. ‘Listen, forget it, don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll call a taxi,’ she continued, her anxiety rising. ‘I shouldn’t have called you. I’m a big girl now.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’m on my way. I was in the shower. Just need to get dressed. Go back inside, until I get there.’
‘OK. If you’re sure. Thanks. I really appreciate it – see you soon.’
She ended the call, and went back inside.
It was even more crowded than earlier, as a new wave of customers had arrived, and a bloke with a guitar was doing his best Ed Sheeran impression.
She’d been standing by the door for several minutes, when a waitress approached. ‘Are you Isla?’ she said, blowing her fringe from her forehead, flustered.
Isla nodded.
‘There’s been a message to say …’ she looked down at a Post-it in her hand ‘… you’re not to wait for Jack. He’ll walk to meet you the park way. Does that make sense?’
‘I think so.’ Maybe jumpstarting her car had flattened Jack’s battery too. The woman disappeared into the busy restaurant, and Isla looked down at her phone. There was no signal.
She left the bar, and walked in the direction of home, trying not to look over her shoulder at the quiet darkness swallowing her. The rain had eased off, and she’d been walking for five minutes, when she reached the park entrance. It was quiet, and she stepped from foot to foot, feeling uneasy as she waited for Jack. She pulled out her phone, and tried to call him, but it went to voicemail.
The houses close by were in darkness, and she suddenly felt sure someone was standing in the shadows. Without a second thought, she set out at speed across the park, certain she would bump into Jack coming in the other direction.
In truth, she hadn’t realised how thick with darkness the park would be. Towering trees blocked what little light there was, throwing shadows across the path. A few more steps and she would be able to see the road that ran by her apartment in the distance, and the lights from the steady flow of traffic would be sure to settle her anxiety.
She pulled out her phone again, and flicked on the torch, casting a beam of light that picked out the deserted playground. She’d played in the park as a child, and could almost hear her childhood self squealing, ‘Higher, higher,’ as Millie pushed her on the swing. Now the swing, a trendy, brightly coloured netted effort that could hold more than one child, creaked, swinging in the breeze.
Suddenly her mobile rang, making her jump. It was Jack.
‘Isla, where are you?’ he said, as she answered.
‘I’m walking home, like you said. Almost there.’ Her tone was brighter than she felt.
‘Why? I’m in the car park standing by your car.’
‘What? But you said to walk home.’ She looked around her at the silent, lonely park, and picked up speed.
‘Why would I say that?’ He sounded confused. ‘What’s going on? Where are you?’
‘I told you, I’m almost home.’
A noise behind her, and the sudden sound of footsteps pierced her ears. Was someone following her? She glanced over her shoulder. The darkness was total, impossible to see. ‘Oh God, Jack, I think someone’s behind me,’ she said into the phone, but the signal had died.
Isla took off like a sprinting athlete, thanking her sensible side for wearing flats. She didn’t look back, and was out of breath by the time she got to the main road. She’d never been so relieved to see the flow of noisy traffic.
At the apartment block, her hand shook as she keyed in the code. She opened the door, and finally dared to look behind her at the huge expanse of park. A young couple walked along the road arm in arm. But there was nobody else about. Had she imagined the footsteps?
Isla was sitting on the sofa trying to gain control, when Jack’s key turned in the door. She jumped to her feet, blinking away tears. As soon as he appeared, a look of confusion on his face, she raced into his arms.
‘What’s going on?’ he said, holding her close. The argument of the night before seemed to be forgotten.
‘I don’t know,’ she said into his shoulder. ‘The waitress at the tapas bar said you’d called. That your car wouldn’t start, and I should walk home.’
‘But I didn’t call, Isla.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Her brain felt as though it was closing down.
‘Let’s go back,’ he said. ‘We can talk to the waitress, and jumpstart your car.’
‘No!’ She paused. ‘Sorry,’ she said, quieter. ‘I really want to stay here.’ She tugged from Jack’s arms, and moved towards the window. She looked out at the park. She’d loved it there as a child, but now it looked almost sinister.
‘I had a feeling someone was watching me,’ she said quietly. ‘I heard footsteps and ran.’ She closed the curtains across the window, her heart thumping. ‘It was horrible, Jack. I haven’t felt like this in years. What if we’re wrong and Carl Jeffery is free. Or he’s somehow managed to escape.’
‘Isla, he’s locked away.’
She turned. ‘OK. Fine. But what if he’s got someone on the outside trying to scare me, maybe even planning to kill me? Like that series you watch about serial killers with Kevin Bacon.’
Jack’s eyes widened. ‘You think Carl Jeffery has disciples on the outside willing to murder for him?’ He approached and touched her arm. ‘Isla, this is silly.’
She flinched and moved away. ‘Why? Why is it silly?’
‘Because that’s fiction, Isla, and this is real life.’
‘It’s not fiction, Jack. I read about it on a website.’ She was talking too fast, her cheeks wet with tears. ‘People like him have groupies.’
‘Please stop, Isla. You sound …’
‘Crazy?’
‘No, but you’re winding yourself up. It was probably just a misunderstanding at the restaurant, that’s all. You need to put Carl Jeffery out of your head, or …’
‘I know.’ She said softer now. ‘I know. Yes. Ignore me. I’m fine, honestly.’
But she knew she was far from it.