Catherine angled her head.
“I messaged you a few times.”
Catherine frowned. “You messaged me? When? What about?”
Hesitation hovered in Jules’s voice. “I don’t know why I started, but I enjoyed chatting with you, so, it just sort of continued. I wanted to tell you who I was, but the longer I left it, the weirder it seemed to just say, ‘Oh, by the way, my mum used to be your neighbour, and we spoke on the phone when she died.’”
“I really don’t understand.”
Jules’s forehead wrinkled. She held up her hand and gave a small wave as if introducing herself for the first time. The blush on her cheeks deepened. “I’m… Betty77.”
Catherine carefully put down her cup. No sudden movements — she might startle the stalker.
Jules looked at her through wide eyes, as if she’d just read Catherine’s mind. “I see how this might look to you now. I really clicked with you online, I didn’t imagine it’d be even better in person.” Jules reached her hand into her hair. “I want to be completely honest with you… about everything. I know it doesn’t make things any better, but I suspended my account as soon as I knew I’d be moving in above you.”
“Why Betty?”
“Sorry?”
“Why was your username Betty?”
“Oh, it’s just what Will calls me sometimes. He’s Wilma, I’m Betty… You know,The Flintstones?”
Catherine blinked.
“It’s just one of those work things that stuck, it isn’t?—”
“I feel like a fool. You lied to me, Jules.”
Jules held up a hand. “Technically, I didn’t lie. I know I’ve done things all tits about, but… I like you, Catherine. I really like you. I felt it back then, and, my God, I feel it now. I don’t think I’ve ever been drawn to someone like this before… it’s… you’re…” Jules’s shoulders sagged as words deserted her.
Catherine shook her head. She’d managed to shrug it off when Jules had told her she’d looked her up online, but now unease welled inside her. This was worse; this was much worse. She’d been manipulated and lured into conversation. On the surface it all seemed fairly benign, but still, red flag. Big red flag.Catherinedidn’t need one of those waving in her face to recognise it; she’d seen plenty throughout her career, and she’d survived Francesca.
Jules stood. “I should leave.”
Catherine nodded but didn’t get up to see her out.
Her stomach ached with disappointment as the front door clicked to a close — the sound of something ending before it had really begun. Catherine picked up her phone and texted Penny.
Woman down. Help!
Penny called right away. After listening to Catherine’s frantic retelling, she let out a low whistle and muttered, “What in the Kathy Bates?”
“That’s not helpful, Pen.”
Penny chuckled. “Look, we’re just heading out to dinner, but I’ll be home tomorrow. Loz has to pop into the office, and he says it’ll be a late one. Come over; we’ll order something in and chat it through, okay?”
“I feel so foolish.”
“I know it’s hard, babe, but try not to overthink this. Put it out of your mind, can you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good girl. See you tomorrow.”
Catherine hung up and looked around her apartment. She’d lived there for over a decade and always felt completely at home. Jules had been in her flat for less than an hour, and now the place felt emptier without her, though Catherine knew the space hadn’t changed; she had.
The anxious energy buzzing through her would best be dispelled with a walk. Before heading out the main door, she glanced up the stairs — she now officially lived beneath a woman she would have to actively avoid, so why was she still being pulled in her direction? She yearned to know what was happening beyond her neighbour’s door. Was Jules feeling as hollow as she was?
