in the field opposite our house and is well signposted.
I watch him until he’s out of sight. He doesn’t hurry, he doesn’t turn around but it does nothing to calm my heart’s furious racing.
*
‘Is Rachel staying with you tonight?’ Matthew asks
when he phones me later from the rig. I haven’t told
him about the man I saw because there’s nothing really
to say. Besides, he might call the police and what would
I tell them?
‘I saw a man walking away from our house.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Average height, average build. I only saw him from behind.’
‘Where were you?’
‘In the bedroom.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Nothing.’
‘So you didn’t see him do anything suspicious?’
‘No. But I think he might have been looking up at the house.’
‘You think?’
‘Yes.’
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‘So you didn’t actual y see him looking at the house.’
‘No.’
‘No,’ I tell Matthew. ‘I decided not to bother her.’
‘That’s a pity.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s just that I don’t like the thought of you being on
your own.’
His worry increases mine. ‘I wish you’d told me that
before.’
‘You’ll be fine. Just make sure that the doors are
locked before you go to bed.’
‘They’re already locked. I wish we had an alarm.’
‘I’ll have a look at the brochure when I get back,’ he
promises.
I hang up and phone Rachel.
‘Are you doing anything tonight?’
‘Sleeping,’ she replies. ‘I’m already in bed.’
‘At nine in the evening?’
‘If you’d had the weekend I had, you’d have been in
bed long ago. So if you’re phoning to ask me to go out,
I’m afraid it’s a no.’
‘I was going to ask you to come round and share a
bottle of wine with me.’
I hear a yawn on the other end of the phone. ‘Why,
are you on your own?’
‘Yes, Matthew’s got an inspection at one of the rigs.
He’s away all week.’
‘How about if I come and keep you company on
Wednesday?’
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My heart sinks. ‘What about tomorrow?’
‘I can’t, sorry, I already have something on.’
‘Wednesday it is, then.’ I can’t keep the disappointment from my voice.
‘Is everything OK?’ she asks, picking up on it.
‘Yes, everything’s fine. Go on, go to sleep.’
‘See you Wednesday,’ she promises.
I wander into the sitting room. If I’d told her that
I’m nervous about being on my own she’d have come
straight round. I turn on the television and watch an
episode of a series I’ve never seen before. Then feeling
tired, I go up to bed, hoping I’ll sleep straight through until the morning.
But I can’t relax. The house is too dark, the night
too silent. I reach out and turn the light on, but sleep
eludes me. I put my headphones on to listen to music
but take them off again when I realise they’d mask
the sound of someone creeping up the stairs. The two
windows I found open, the one in the bedroom after the
alarm man left on Friday and the one in the kitchen on
Saturday play on my mind, as does the man I saw outside
the house this morning. When the sun begins to rise
and I find myself falling asleep, I don’t bother fighting it, telling myself that I’m less likely to be murdered in daylight than at night.
WEDNESDAY JULY 29th
I’m woken by the phone ringing in the hall. I open my
eyes and stare at the ceiling, hoping the caller will give up. Yesterday morning the phone had rung insistently at half past eight but when I’d answered it there’d been no one there. I look at the clock; it’s nearly nine so it’s probably Matthew, phoning before he starts work for the day. I leaping out of bed, run downstairs and snatch it up before the answering machine kicks in.
‘Hello,’ I say breathlessly. There’s no answering hello,
so I wait, because the connection is often bad from the
rig.
‘Matthew?’ I try. There’s no answer so I hang up and
dial his number.
‘Did you just call?’ I ask when he picks up.
‘Good morning, darling,’ he says pointedly, but with
laughter in his voice. ‘How are you today?’
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‘Sorry,’ I say hastily. ‘I’ll start again. Hello, darling, how are you?’
‘That’s better. I’m fine, it’s cold up here, though.’
‘‘Did you call me a moment ago?’
‘No.’
I frown. ‘Oh.’
‘Why?’
‘The phone rang but there was no one there so I
thought it was a bad connection from the rig.’
‘No, I was going to call you at lunchtime. I’m afraid
I have to go, sweetheart, let’s speak later.’
I hang up, annoyed at having been got out of bed.
There should be a rule against cold-callers calling so
early. The day stretches in front of me and I realise I
don’t want to spend another night on my own. Last
night, when I’d got up to go to the loo, I’d looked out
of the window and, for a second, I thought there was
someone there. There wasn’t, of course, but after that I