She tried to scream, but he pressed his hand harder against her mouth and rasped into her ear: ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry, Mrs Clyde. I just need to talk to you. I’m going to take my hand away. Please don’t scream. I’m in enough trouble as it is.’
As he released her, Lulu scrambled away from him on all fours, leaving her bag where it lay. She crashed out of the bushes, a twig scratching her face, and stumbled, almost falling, giving him a chance to catch up to her and say, his acne-dotted face full of earnest contrition, ‘I’m so sorry. But I need to tell you what happened. Your husband, Mrs Clyde – he’s a nutjob.’
When Nick got in that evening, Lulu was sitting on the balcony, watching the river and nursing a white wine she didn’t want. The Thames was always this muddy brown colour, not, as she’d first assumed, because of pollution but because of the silt that was continually churned up from the riverbed. It actually wasn’t badly polluted any more, and, if you watched for long enough, you could see fish jumping, ducks bobbing by, herons and cormorants and occasionally a seal or a dolphin.
‘Oof,’ Nick groaned, subsiding on the long couch beside her and sticking his legs out under the coffee table. ‘I’ll have that, if you don’t want it.’
She waited until he’d drained the glass to say, ‘I spoke to Harry today. Harry the former porter. The one you got sacked.’
He went still.
‘And before you start on about psychos and how it’s not safe for me out there – no, he wasn’t stalking me. Or not in the usual sense. But then, you know that, don’t you?’
He looked at her, his blue eyes narrowing in the way they did when he felt himself under attack, as if to stop her seeing inside his head, to close himself off from her.
‘Harry told me that you paid him to keep tabs on me. To tell you if he saw anyone talking to me. And you also paid him to give you the passcode to the CCTV software so you could check the footage whenever you wanted. You’re the one who’s stalking me, Nick!’ She got up and went to the rail of the balcony, pressing her hands down on it, breathing the muddy, weedy river air.
‘But – you don’t believe him, Lu, do you?’ The charm was back. He gave a little laugh, and came and stood beside her. ‘The guy’s a –’
‘Nutter? Funny, that’s what he said about you. And yes, I believe him. Why would he make it up? It’s not going to get him reinstated. Presumably, what he did for you is also a sackable offence. Arguably, it’s even worse.’ Near the far bank of the river, a boat was chugging along. ‘After he told me about the CCTV, I remembered something. One night, must be a month or so ago, I’d gone to bed to read, but the story was all about a chef and it made me hungry, so I came back down to raid the fridge, and you were sitting at the island watching something on your laptop. Footage of the area at the front of the building. You said the security firm had sent you a random sample of images so you could check them for quality. Remember? If I ask them, will they confirm that?’ At last, she turned and looked at him.
For a long moment, their gazes locked.
‘Lulu,’ was all he said.
‘You paid Harry to spy on me.’ And suddenly her legs were shaking. She pushed herself away from the rail and strode inside. She didn’t know where she was going.
Out.
She needed to get out of this apartment.
‘Lulu, I’m sorry!’ Nick was behind her. ‘I was only trying to protect you! I’ve brought you here, to a strange city, a strange country where you know no one. You’re not streetwise. Not London streetwise. I know you lived in Sydney, but it’s not the same. And you’re not well. You’re not sleeping, you’re exhausted all the time, you forget things. I only looked at the CCTV footage to check you were okay, to check there were no dodgy types hanging around, following you, whatever. And yes, I asked Harry to keep an eye on you, to look out for you, but I didn’t tell him to keep notes, for God’s sake! I’m so sorry, Lu – I didn’t realise I was facilitating a stalker. Because that’s what he is. He followed you, presumably, when you left the building.’
Halfway to the lift, she turned. ‘No. It was in Ravenscourt Park that we spoke. I guess he must have followed me from my office.’
‘So he found out where you worked. Christ, Lu, he must have followed you from here all the way to your office.’ Nick subsided onto the massive L-shaped sofa in the sitting area. He put his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry. God. What was I thinking?’
Lulu sighed, and walked back to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. The muscles of his shoulder, his neck, were knotted like ropes.
‘I really don’t think he’s a stalker. He just wanted to come clean. I’m okay.’ Gently, she pressed the knots with her fingers. ‘But you need to talk to me, Nick. Please. You need to work through why you worry about me so obsessively, for no good reason. I know it’s to do with what happened to your family.’ And she left a space.
Normally, he’d fill this space with humour. Say something like, ‘Are you charging me by the hour for this?’
Now, though, he just mumbled, ‘I can’t lose you too.’
Here was where Lulu had to be tough. She sat down next to him and took his hand. ‘The only way you’re going to lose me is if you carry on like this. I can’t live this way, Nick. You’re smothering me, laying down rules, not letting me have any time to myself.’
‘Oh God, Lu, I’m sorry! I won’t any more!’
‘I know you don’t mean to do it. But I think the only way you’re going to be able to stop is if you address why you’re like this. Talk to me, Nick. About your family. Please.’