‘Four. But…’
‘You’ve got ages yet. Drink your tea.’
There it was again. That klaxon in the back of my head, warning me that a man was trying to control my behaviour. It was quieter now than it had been when Tilly was tiny and David had so overtly attempted to manage my life, but it was still there. It blared into my ear whenever anyone tried to negate my feelings.
‘No, sorry, I have to go.’ I put the remaining undrunk tea on the table. This was getting to be a habit, the little voice that sometimes spoke over the klaxon told me. People giving me tea that I didn’t finish, letting me run instead into the woods like an overshod Cinderella. ‘I just do.’
In his favour, Ross didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t try to reason with me or show any sign of impatience, he just leaned over and pushed the door from the inside, allowing me to burst my way out into the trees and the grey air.
Overhead, the birds swirled and called their warning cries. I looked up and envied them their freedom.
16
Tilly and I stayed indoors for the next two days. I didn’t even take her to nursery on Thursday; instead, I bribed her to sit in the flat and do endless jigsaws with the promise of ice cream.
I tried to convince myself that we just needed some time. Mother and daughter time, time to rest and regroup without the demands of nursery, work, things to do. Downtime to bond and play and relax. We weren’t avoiding going outside at all, we were… chilling.
But I knew that it was all fake. That message had upset me more than I had realised when I’d been blurting everything out to Ross. Those words, combined with the freezing shock I’d felt when I had seen the man I thought might be David, were haunting me, floating to the front of my brain every time there was a moment’s silence. I kept Tilly with me to ensure that any silences which occurred could be investigated and the activities that had caused them could be curtailed. Tilly only went quiet when there was mischief afoot, and, while there was only so much mischief that could be perpetrated in a four-metre-square room which was entirely visible if I sat by the window, she still managed to drop my car keys down the toilet and smear Sudocrem along the side of the bed.
‘Mummmeeeee! Drawing!’ She exploded when I found out why she’d hidden at the end of the bed. I’d thought she was sitting playing with her toy animals and had allowed myself a couple of moments of prodding my feelings. It turned out that, yes, I was still terrified of David, and that Tilly had found the nappy cream and got the lid off.
‘That’s not for drawing, it’s for sore bums,’ I said, hustling her through to the bathroom between my knees to prevent her from sliming her cream-covered hands down any more of the furniture. ‘Crayons are for drawing and your crayons are over there.’
Tilly burst into tears and a raging tantrum at being made to wash her hands, so when my phone rang I had to answer it into what sounded like battlefield conditions.
‘Libby?’
It was Ross or I wouldn’t have answered at all. ‘What is it? Only I’ve got my hands full here.’
‘I can hear that. What on earth is going on?’
I opened my mouth to explain and then realised that a non-parent wouldn’t get it. ‘Never mind. Why are you ringing?’
‘Can you meet me at the cottage? Only there’s been a… development and I think I need you.’
I glanced at the window for a second, ridiculously because we lived on the second floor and unless David had learned to levitate, it was highly unlikely that I would catch a glimpse of him. ‘I… don’t know,’ I said.He might be out there. Waiting for us.
‘Look, it’s really important, otherwise I wouldn’t be calling you. Plus, and I feel duty bound to mention this, five thousand pounds. I’m not saying that in any threatening way, you understand, but I can’t pay you until Isobel is out, because the TV company won’t paymeuntil Isobel is out. You see?’
Between my knees Tilly slumped to the floor, her wailing grading down a tone or two. It was beginning to dawn on me that I couldn’t stay in the flat forever just in case David was out there. After all, even if he’d found out I was in York, well, York was a city of a reasonable size and his chances of actually locating me were slim. Besides, I hadn’t lied to Ross, we all kept an eye on one another in the hostel and an unknown man hanging around outside would have made the necks prickle on a fair few of the occupants.
‘All right,’ I said. On the floor at my feet, Tilly was busily rubbing the rest of the Sudocrem into the shower mat. ‘But I’ve got Tilly with me.’
‘Thank heavens for that. I did not want to contemplate who else might be making that noise,’ Ross said cheerily. ‘Bring her over. Isobel quite likes her anyway, doesn’t she? So she might be a nice distraction.’
‘Distraction fromwhat?’ I asked, but he’d already gone.
I scraped Tilly clean, sponged the worst of the cream off the bed, and got us both dressed. Another glance out of the window showed that the car park was mostly empty, apart from a few visitors chancing their luck in a space clearly marked private, and a man walking through, kicking in a desultory way at the last soggy leaves sticking to the tarmac. He was chunky and wearing a green anorak; neither of these were attributes of David’s.
‘Ice cream?’ Tilly asked hopefully as we sped out towards Isobel’s.
‘No, sweetie. But Ross might find you a biscuit,’ I added swiftly to forestall the wobbly lip and wailing. ‘And perhaps Isobel will let you play with her things again.’
Brass gave me a wiggle of acknowledgement from the back seat and I marvelled at Tilly’s propensity for distraction. As soon as I’d mentioned a few days being allowed to watch TV, she hadn’t even fretted to go to nursery and I worried a little bit about how easily company, education, friendship and a change of scenery could be overcome by the prospect of ghastly primary-coloured characters and high-pitched voices. Something to keep an eye on once she became a teenager, I thought.
As we approached the bleak village where I’d seen the man, I slowed the car a little and focused on the surroundings. Two women were walking a small dog, heads bent together in conversation and a small child sat, glumly, well wrapped up, on a doorstep. None of them bore any resemblance to David and I felt my shoulders uncrunch in relief at the lack of sighting. Even the road sign where I’d previously seen the slender man was nakedly metallic in the slanting sunlight.
The trees were nearly bare now. We reached the outskirts of the woodland to be greeted by desolate, stretched branches, shiny with damp and frost and a cumulus of birds stammering their cries into the cold clear sky. My heart thumped at the sight of them; I was almost more scared of them than I was of David.
