Thieving Fear by Ramsey Campbell

there the heavier the case would grow, but he felt as if its weight and his disorientation were capable of paralysing him. Surely he ought to be able to work out his position by locating the different lines of stock, except that his growing panic seemed to flatten all meaning out of the descriptions on the cartons, which might have been printed in an unknown language. He had to move, and so he staggered sidelong away from the nervous light, only to realise that he no longer knew which side of the oppressively crowded room he was making for.
    He hadn't felt so helplessly trapped inside his brittle skull since discovering that he was useless as a teacher, when less than a fortnight in front of a classful of teenagers apparently determined to break him had left him terrified even to get out of bed. That was as near to a breakdown as he ever wanted to venture, and he'd given up his place at training college to seek another job, any job. However dismaying his failure had been, the vindictiveness that had caused him to fail was worse, and now he felt surrounded by a version of it that resembled a memory he very much preferred not to revive. The concepts of left and right had deserted him, and the ideas of ahead and behind were losing significance. He couldn't see the lift when he dodged to one side and then to the other while the jerky light plucked at his vision as though encouraging him to prance back and forth, to lose his way even more thoroughly. Nothing made sense outside his skull, and that was a dark cramped place in which he had no idea where to turn. He was clutching the wine to his chest, both for fear of dropping it and because its solidity was the nearest thing to even a hint of reassurance, when he heard a voice.
    He pivoted towards the side of the room where its owner was lurking, whichever side that was. As he regained his hold on the case of wine, which had almost slipped from his aching arms, the muffled voice was answered by another. Both were female, unlike the one he'd previously heard. 'Where are you?' he shouted.
    They didn't acknowledge him, unless their amusement did. Hugh sidled a few paces, which only aggravated the confusion all around him. 'What's funny?' he protested. 'Why won't you show yourselves?'
    His panic might have driven even Hugh beyond politeness if the girls from the cosmetics section hadn't strolled into view at the end of an aisle. He could have taken them for contestants in a slimming competition, not to mention one for blondeness. Tamara turned sideways to hold a round-bottomed pose for a second. 'Seen enough, Hugh Lucas?'
    Without copying the posture Mishel said 'That's all we're showing of ourselves to you.'
    'I didn't mean that,' Hugh declared, but his vehemence didn't stop his face from growing hot and, he knew, mottled. 'Who was calling?'
    The girls stared at him and even more incredulously at each other. 'You were,' Tamara said.
    'I don't mean just now. Who was saying my name?'
    'On the intercom?' Mishel said with every appearance of concern.
    'I suppose.'
    The girls burst out laughing. When she could Tamara said 'That was you.'
    'I didn't mean then,' Hugh pleaded, sidling to keep the girls in sight as they lost interest in him and returned to the aisle they'd emerged from. In a moment he saw why their voices had started out muffled. The girls hadn't been hiding from him. They'd been in the lift, which was beyond them.
    He dashed along the aisle as if the case of wine were dragging him. He kept his gaze on the metal doors while he jabbed the button and struggled to hold onto the case and poked the button again. When the doors parted at last he staggered in and leaned on the case against the wall as he groped to send the lift upwards. He was labouring to face them when they opened once more, revealing the lobby and Justin. 'Where did you get to?' Justin demanded. 'I've been having to hold your customer.'
    'I couldn't find –'
    'Just give me that.'
    Justin seized the case and drummed