the urge to throw up strong. It couldn’t be Michael Jacobs, it just couldn’t, because he didn’t live around here and I
hadn’t seen him for ages. It was over, all of it, and he had no reason to be
visiting me now. He shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t wise for him to be. I hadn’t sacrificed being with him
to keep him safe only for him to mess it up now. He really ought to have kept
away, because if they were watching,
if they knew he was here, they’d expect me to do what
they’d instructed.
I can’t do it. I can’t …
Back at the peephole, I looked through it to find he’d stepped back and was glancing up and down the landing
as though he expected me to come along any second. When I didn’t bustle up the
stairs, shopping bags dragging me down, bringing the scent of the crisp air
outside with me, he frowned and chewed the inside of his cheek. And there I
was, battling with whether to let him in or wait until he left. He’d come a long way, though, and what if he had some
important news for me? I shook my head at that. If there were news the police
would have called round, telephoned, written to me. There was no explanation
for Michael being on my doorstep.
I swallowed again and quietly cleared my throat. ‘What do you
want?’
He started, came closer. His position gave me the idea he’d raised one hand, had pressed it to the door. I lifted
mine, placing it where I thought his might be, and felt stupid that I’d done it. What had I thought, that I’d feel the heat of him through the wood? That some of his strength would pass
through and go into me, help me to get better? I’d thought many silly things lately — too much time to think did that — but this
had to be the silliest.
‘I came to see you,’ he said.
His voice, God, it made everything bad go away for a few seconds,
as though just his cultured tones had the ability to wipe the slate clean, as if
none of it had ever happened. But it had, it bloody well had, and I was left dealing with the aftermath.
‘I see that,’ I said. ‘And you called me Rebecca.’
He closed his eyes momentarily, clamping his lips tight. He knew he’d made a mistake. Possibly a fatal one if my home had been bugged . If the landing had been
bugged .
‘You called me Rebecca, out there on the landing where anyone
could hear you.’ I didn’t know why I wanted him to
feel bad about that. Why I had the need to make him suffer just as much as I
had. Yet if I was horrible to him he’d go away, and
that was best for both of us. He’d been kind to me in
the past, had done more than anyone with regard to making sure I was all right,
and me punishing him for it was warped and mean.
And he’d made me fall in love with him.
Seeing him now hurt.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Lisa, let me in.’
That name still sounded foreign when people said it, like it didn’t belong to me, wasn’t who I was, and Lisa…she wasn’t me. I was Rebecca, always would be,
but the new name was a lifesaver, something I had to get used to whether I
liked it or not. At least I’d got to choose it myself. I’d wanted something no one would take any notice of,
a name that blended with the million others out there. Normal. I just wanted to
be normal.
Normal people
would let him in. Normal people would twist the two keys on the mortise locks,
draw back the four chains, push up the snib on the Yale and open the door. Normal people would tell him what I was meant to do if I ever saw him again.
But I wasn’t normal. Not anymore.
‘I can’t,’ I said, then bit my bottom lip hard so it hurt, so it
brought tears of pain and not self-pity. Or anger.
‘Please, just let me in.’ A pause, then, ‘Lisa.’
I turned and pressed my back to the wall beside the door,
whittling my fingers at waist height, grazing over the ragged skin on my thumbs.
I felt sick with not knowing what to do. It was Michael, definitely him. I
closed my eyes, coaching myself calm, whispering that it would be all
hadn’t seen him for ages. It was over, all of it, and he had no reason to be
visiting me now. He shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t wise for him to be. I hadn’t sacrificed being with him
to keep him safe only for him to mess it up now. He really ought to have kept
away, because if they were watching,
if they knew he was here, they’d expect me to do what
they’d instructed.
I can’t do it. I can’t …
Back at the peephole, I looked through it to find he’d stepped back and was glancing up and down the landing
as though he expected me to come along any second. When I didn’t bustle up the
stairs, shopping bags dragging me down, bringing the scent of the crisp air
outside with me, he frowned and chewed the inside of his cheek. And there I
was, battling with whether to let him in or wait until he left. He’d come a long way, though, and what if he had some
important news for me? I shook my head at that. If there were news the police
would have called round, telephoned, written to me. There was no explanation
for Michael being on my doorstep.
I swallowed again and quietly cleared my throat. ‘What do you
want?’
He started, came closer. His position gave me the idea he’d raised one hand, had pressed it to the door. I lifted
mine, placing it where I thought his might be, and felt stupid that I’d done it. What had I thought, that I’d feel the heat of him through the wood? That some of his strength would pass
through and go into me, help me to get better? I’d thought many silly things lately — too much time to think did that — but this
had to be the silliest.
‘I came to see you,’ he said.
His voice, God, it made everything bad go away for a few seconds,
as though just his cultured tones had the ability to wipe the slate clean, as if
none of it had ever happened. But it had, it bloody well had, and I was left dealing with the aftermath.
‘I see that,’ I said. ‘And you called me Rebecca.’
He closed his eyes momentarily, clamping his lips tight. He knew he’d made a mistake. Possibly a fatal one if my home had been bugged . If the landing had been
bugged .
‘You called me Rebecca, out there on the landing where anyone
could hear you.’ I didn’t know why I wanted him to
feel bad about that. Why I had the need to make him suffer just as much as I
had. Yet if I was horrible to him he’d go away, and
that was best for both of us. He’d been kind to me in
the past, had done more than anyone with regard to making sure I was all right,
and me punishing him for it was warped and mean.
And he’d made me fall in love with him.
Seeing him now hurt.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Lisa, let me in.’
That name still sounded foreign when people said it, like it didn’t belong to me, wasn’t who I was, and Lisa…she wasn’t me. I was Rebecca, always would be,
but the new name was a lifesaver, something I had to get used to whether I
liked it or not. At least I’d got to choose it myself. I’d wanted something no one would take any notice of,
a name that blended with the million others out there. Normal. I just wanted to
be normal.
Normal people
would let him in. Normal people would twist the two keys on the mortise locks,
draw back the four chains, push up the snib on the Yale and open the door. Normal people would tell him what I was meant to do if I ever saw him again.
But I wasn’t normal. Not anymore.
‘I can’t,’ I said, then bit my bottom lip hard so it hurt, so it
brought tears of pain and not self-pity. Or anger.
‘Please, just let me in.’ A pause, then, ‘Lisa.’
I turned and pressed my back to the wall beside the door,
whittling my fingers at waist height, grazing over the ragged skin on my thumbs.
I felt sick with not knowing what to do. It was Michael, definitely him. I
closed my eyes, coaching myself calm, whispering that it would be all
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