Page 62 of Behind Her Eyes

I like this woman. She’s a straight-talker. I doubt she has secrets or invites them from others or is great at keeping them. I’ve missed being that person.Open.

‘What I failed to realise, however,’ she says softly, ‘is that I’d be the one facing the consequences. Or, more accurately, Charlie would.’

She sees my quizzical expression.

‘My old cat. She killed him.’

My world spins.

Another dead cat. Coincidence? My thoughts sound like David’s notes. David, who Adele claimed killed their cat, and I believed her over him.Oh, Louise, you stupid fool. ‘How?’ I croak out.

‘He didn’t come in one night and I was worried. He was fifteen and his days of hunting mice to bring in for me were over. Mainly he slept on the sofa while I was at work, and then slept on me when I got home. As much as I hate to admit it, she was right on one thing – since my divorce, Charlie had been my main source of company. It’s hard adjusting to being single after being part of a couple.’

I know exactly what she means. That left-behind feeling.

‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘I think she must have poisoned him first. Not enough to kill him, but enough to subdue him. He was a greedy bugger and very friendly. He’d come to anyone who had a scrap of chicken for him. I couldn’t sleep wondering where he was, and then just after dawn I heard a yowl from outside. It was a pathetic sound. Weak. Distressed. But it was definitely my Charlie. I’d had him since he was a kitten, I knew all his noises. I leaped out of bed and went to the window, and there she was. Standing in the road holding my limp, sick cat in her arms. At first, I was more confused than alarmed. I had no idea what she was doing there so early, but my initial thought was that he’d been run over and she’d found him. Then I saw her face. I’ve never seen someone that cold before. That devoid of feeling. “I warned you.” That’s all she said. So quiet. So calm. Before I could react – before I could really grasp what was happening – she’d dropped him to the ground, and as he started to try to crawl to the front door, she … she stamped on his head.’

As she looks into my wide eyes I can see the remembered horror in hers, and then the slight movement in her throat as she swallows. ‘She was wearing high heels,’ she finishes. No more elaboration is needed after that.

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Yeah.’ She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as if she can sigh it all out of her head. ‘I’d never seen anything like that before. That level of rage. Of madness. I never want to see it again.’

‘Did you call the police?’

‘Oh, I was going to. But first I wanted David toseewhat she had done. It was nearly time for me to come and open up here, so I thought I’d show him – give him a short, sharp, shock – and then call the police. I was angry and heartbroken, but I was also afraid. I was afraid for him and forme. I wrapped my poor Charlie up in a blanket and took him with me. I had no intention of working that day, I just wanted to see David and then go home and cry. That probably sounds ridiculous over a cat.’

‘It really doesn’t.’ I mean it too, as I reach across the table and squeeze her arm. I know how bad it is to be alone, and at least I’ve always had Adam. I can only imagine how awful she felt.

‘David’s reaction was interesting.’ She’s thoughtful now the worst of her story is out of the way. Maybe my visit is unexpected therapy for her. ‘I didn’t see it at the time, but when I look back on it, I do,’ she continues. ‘He was appalled, that’s true. And disgusted and upset. But he wasn’t shocked. You can’t fake shock. Not well, at any rate. I actually think he was relieved that she’d only hurt the cat. That scared me most of all of it. That relief. What did he think she was really capable of, if killing a cat like that was a cause for relief?’

My hands are shaking so much I have to hide them under the table.Oh Adele. What games have you played with me?

‘He persuaded me not to press charges. He said he knew Adele and it would be my word against hers and she could be very convincing. That beauty of hers works for her. But he told me I’d never have to worry about her again. He’d make sure of that. He said he’d make a payment to the Cat Protection League. He basically begged me not to call the police, and I was too tired and emotional to argue. I just wanted them both out of my life.’

‘So you didn’t report her?’

She shakes her head. ‘No. I closed the cafe for a few days and stayed at home, grieving and also jumping every time the doorbell went in case it was her. But she didn’t come back, and I never saw him again.’

‘And that was it?’ I ask. ‘They vanished?’

‘I got a letter from David a few weeks later, sent to the cafe. He said he’d found a new job and they were moving away. He thanked me for my friendship and said he was sorry that it had been so damaging for me, and that he would never forgive himself for that. It made me feel sick to look at it. It went straight in the bin. I wanted to forget all about them.’

‘I’m sorry I’ve brought it all back up,’ I say. ‘And I’m sorry about your cat. But thank you for talking to me. For telling me. You’ve really helped. More than you can know.’

She gets up from the table and I do the same, my legs weak beneath me.

‘I don’t know how you’re involved with them, and I don’t want to know,’ she says. ‘But get away from them. As fast as you can. They’re damaged goods and they’ll hurt you.’

I nod and give her a weak smile and then rush out into the fresh air. The world seems too bright, the leaves too green on the trees, their edges too sharp against the sky. I need somewhere to think.

I order a large glass of wine and take it to a corner table, obscured slightly from view of the businessmen and early lunch customers who are slowly filling up the Blackheath pub with laughter and conversation. I barely hear them. Only when I’ve drunk half my wine does the white noise of panic in my head abate, and I’m left to face the stark realisation I can no longer avoid.

I believed everything Adele told me so easily. I sucked it all up. And it was all lies. Suddenly I see all my rows with David so differently. There wasfearin his anger. When he told me to stay away from them, he wasn’t threatening me, he waswarningme. His aggression was to protect me. Does he really care about me after all? Did he mean it when he said he was falling in love with me?

Oh God, I’ve been a stupid, stupid fool. I want to cry, and the wine isn’t helping. I’ve been best friends with a psychopath. Friends? I rethink the word. We haven’t been friends, not at all. I’m a fly caught in her web, and she’s toying with me. But why? If she knows about me and David, why didn’t she just hurt me?

I need to talk to him. I need to talk to her. But how much does she actually know? Does she know I’ve come here and spoken to Marianne? And why did she teach me about the dreaming if she knew about me and David? Why help me like that?

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