Page 60 of Behind Her Eyes

‘Forget about Rob,’ she says. ‘Forget about all of it.’ She doesn’t even say goodbye, but hangs up. That’s me told, then. I should feel hurt or angry, but I’m not. If anything, I’m confused. Has David done something to her?

I stare at the phone for a moment. What would I have seen if I could have got to her house rather than only next door? A fight? Threats? Tears? Sitting here, the thought of invisibly transporting myself there sounds crazy. Did I really go to Laura’s? While still in my bed? How is that even possible?

I find Adam in his room, looking tiny and woeful sitting on his bed half-heartedly playing with his plastic dinosaurs.

‘Why didn’t you wake up?’ he says. ‘I was shaking you for ages.’

‘I’m awake now!’ I grin and make light of it, but vow that this – whateverthisis – will never happen again while he’s in the house. My headache has gone, I notice as I go to get him some juice and tell him we’ll watch some cartoons on the sofa together. The tension has left me, even after that call from Adele. I’ve sent the letter. I can’t unsend it. I actually feel a relief that she’s been cool with me. Maybe this is the break I need from them in order to get my life back on track, and this way, if the one in a thousand chance comes off and the police do search the estate, I can feel slightly less guilty about it. I feel awake and alert for the first time in days, as if exiting my body has given it time to repair itself without worrying about the inhabitant.

Is that what I did? Really? Leave my body? The thought alone is insane. But this isn’t the first time it’s happened. I know that now. There was Adam’s bedroom. And the time I floated above myself. And now this. All through the silver door. But is it real or was I dreaming?

When the cartoons are on, I slip out of the front door and go to Laura’s. I’m shaking as I knock on the door. This is crazy. I’m crazy.

‘Hey.’ She’s wearing jeans and a green fleece. ‘What’s up?’ I stare at her for a moment, and she frowns. ‘You okay?’

‘Yes!’ I force a smile. ‘I wondered if I could have a look at your TV? I’ve been promising Adam for ages that we’ll get a bigger one, and I’m looking at Argos online, but I’m rubbish at picturing sizes in the room. I’ll only be a second. Sorry to disturb you.’

‘Not a problem, just ignore the mess.’ She lets me in and I follow her through the flat. There are plates on the kitchen side, just as I saw them, the remnants of toast or a bacon sandwich littering one.

‘This is too big for the room really,’ she says, ‘but I love it. It’s a forty-six-inch screen, which at least means I can see it without my glasses on.’ She laughs and I laugh with her, but I’m not really listening. The bar of Fruit and Nut chocolate is on the arm of the sofa. The flowery coffee cup is on the table.Friendsis on the TV.

‘Thanks,’ I mutter. ‘That’s a great help.’

‘No problem, any time.’ She tries to talk to me about dating and if there is any sign of true love on the cards, but I can’t wait to get out of there. My head is buzzing, Adele’s call virtually forgotten. Ihadbeen there. Ihadseen her. Just as Ihadbeen in Adam’s room that night when he’d spilled his water.

I go back to my own sofa where Adam snuggles into my chest, still feeling the echoes of his fear when he couldn’t wake me, and I stare at the cartoons as he becomes absorbed in them. How is what I did even possible?

It is only later, at night, when I’m alone in my bed in the dark, that a terrible thought strikes me. It curdles my blood with the possibilities.

Adam not able to wake me. Shaking my cold arms. Thinking something was wrong. Me, sitting bolt upright in bed, gasping as I wake. Not a natural wake-up at all.

It’s all exactly as it was when I was trying to wake Adele.

She lied about the second door.

48

ADELE

The course of true love never did run smooth. I know that better than anyone. But still, I believe in it, I really do, even after everything. Sometimes true love needs a helping hand. And I’ve always been good at providing that.

49

LOUISE

By nine thirty on Monday I’ve dropped Adam off at Day Play and I’m waiting to catch a train to Blackheath. I should be exhausted – I’ve barely slept since Saturday – but my brain is filled with questions and fire ants of doubt. If Adele lied about having the second door then that changes everything. What else has she lied about?

Two questions burn brightest in my mind as I take a seat by the window, my back stiff with tension, my fingers picking at the skin around my nails. If Adele has the second door and can leave her body, how far can she go and what does sheknow? It sounds like a poem, and it goes around and around in my head in time with the steady rhythm of the engine lurching me across London Bridge.

Of course the bigger question is what does she know about me and David?Doesshe know about me and David? If she does, well, then … I feel sick contemplating that. I can’t take in that everything I’ve believed so readily might be wrong. How stupid I might have been. What I’vedone. The letter. All the detail I put into it about Rob and David and Adele – all guilt pointing at him. God, it’s so potentially awful. I think of Sophie sitting on my balcony. What was it she said?Fragile? Or crazy? Maybe she does have a screw loose?Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Rather than searching for a list of cafes in Blackheath, most of which probably don’t have websites anyway, I’ve looked for psychiatrists instead, and there are only three, which was a tiny wave of relief amidst my tsunami of panic. Even if there had been fifty though, I’m determined to find Marianne and talk to her. I need to know what happened between her and David and her and Adele. The notes in David’s file were so vague.Marianne not pressing charges –pressing charges against whom? Him or her? And for what?

It’s taken all my resolve not to buy a packet of Marlboro Lights at the station. Why should they drive me back to smoking? I’m not giving them that.Them. I can’t trust either of them right now. The tangles around me feel like barbed wire. Maybe my new panic is all for nothing. Maybe Davidisthe bad guy here, just as Adele has made out. Maybe Adele doesn’t have the second door, and even if she does, maybe she still doesn’t know anything. Maybe, like me, she can’t go very far. She could still be telling the truth.

The thought feels hollow. I remember her cold hand and the gasp of her wakening in the chair in David’s study. If she can’t go very far, then why would she bother with the second door at all? I can’t imagine spending hours watching Laura and not being able to get past the end of our block’s walkway. It would be weird. And it would be dull, especially when the first door on its own allows you to dream anything you want.

She was through the second door that day when I found her in David’s study. I’m sure of it. But where was she? What was she watching? And why lie to me about it? My foot taps on the floor until we finally reach Blackheath and I rush from the train, as if trying to run from myself.

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