Page 52 of Cross Her Heart

‘Who is it?’ a voice calls from inside. A voice that grates with bitterness and cigarettes. ‘Whatever they’re selling, we’re not buying anything!’

‘What are you doing here?’ None of Julia’s usual cockiness. She looks tired, shoes kicked off on the thin carpet but still in her office clothes. Her blouse is untucked, the edges creased and her sleeves are rolled up.

‘We need to talk.’

She glances behind her, up a flight of stairs. A chairlift is at the top and I can also see a pile of creased clothes on the landing. There’s a wheelchair in the hall. ‘It’s for me!’ she calls back. ‘Someone from work to talk about the promotion I might be getting.’

‘Promotion? What prom—’

She puts one finger to her lips, and I find myself falling silent as she nods me inside. I’m thrown by all this. I expected a sleek single girl’s apartment. Small but blandly stylish. I come in from the rain and she closes the door behind me, signalling me into a downstairs room.

‘Why would you come here?’ she says quietly. Her cockiness is gone, it’s all defensive aggressive now.

‘You live here?’ I ask. The room is too hot, central-heating-on-in-summer hot and there’s a sharp tang in the air it takes me a moment to identify. Stale urine.

‘My mother’s house. Yes, I live here. What do you want, Marilyn?’

I’m so confused that for a moment I don’t know why Iamhere. ‘The money,’ I say eventually. ‘You’re the thief. Lisa wouldn’t lie about that. I just want to hear it fromyou.’ I look around. ‘I don’t understand you. The veneers on your teeth. The fillers? You have them, don’t bullshit me. But you live like this.’ I wave my hand around. ‘Why spend money on shit like that? Why steal money to spend on shit like that? Why steal money from Penny only to buy her something with it? I don’t get it!’

It seems that there are many types of crazy in the world. Richard crazy, Lisa crazy – even though I can’t quite bring myself to believe that – and now Julia crazy.

‘Yes, I have veneers. Yes, I have fillers. And before you ask, yes, I have credit-card debts up to my eyes because of it.’ She’s angry. ‘But what do you know about my life? So your husband beats you up and we should all feel sorry for you? More fool you for staying when you could have got out!’

Her words are barbed and they sting more for the truth in them. Iwasa fool to stay. To waste so much of my time.

‘At least you could get out,’ she continues. ‘Have you tried getting care for someone on the NHS? I’ve been looking afterher’ – she stabs a finger up at the ceiling – ‘for pretty much all my adult life. She’s not bad enough for a full-time care home but bad enough to fuck up my life. I pay for someone to come in so I can go to work. I don’t have a car. I don’t have holidays. And it’shardto get a job when you’re forty and tired and every minute of your sorry life shows on your face.’ Now she’s started she can’t stop. All her containment gone.

‘But now she’sdying!’Her face shines with glee.‘A year at the most. And then I’ll finally be fucking free. So yes, I’ve spent money trying to look younger. I have a whole youth to reclaim. And yes, I stole the money, and I used it to buy drinks in the pub and cakes for the office. Because I am going to have a better life and I’m going to have friends and people are going to think I’m smart and clever and important. And I’m not going to let you stop me. So fucking sue me or report me or whatever, but it will be your word against mine! And right now, your word means shit!’

She’s breathing heavily, exhausted with the emotional effort, and I almost laugh because for the last few seconds I’ve barely heard a word she’s said. Her diva moment, the confession I came here for, and it’s like I’m hearing her under water.

‘I’m sorry,’ I mutter. ‘I’m going to have to go.’

‘What?’ She looks like she’s been slapped.

‘I’m sorry I came. You’ve got enough going on. I won’t say a word.’

‘That’sit?’ Julia says. ‘You don’twantanything?’

‘I really have to go.’

I leave her standing there, dumbfounded, and as soon as I turn away she dissolves into nothing in my head. My hands tremble as I drag the front door open and suck in rainy air that thankfully doesn’t stink of stale piss. I don’t care about Julia. I care about the person I justsaw. I look to my left. She’s hiding but I can see her.

The net curtains in Julia’s sitting room didn’t quite reach the sides of the windows and somewhere in the middle of Julia’s rant, I’d seen a face, a clown face of running make-up in the rain, under blue hair shaved at the sides, pressed up to the glass. Our eyes met and it vanished. But I’d know her face anywhere.

Lisa.

‘Get in the car,’ I mutter, as I pull up by the tree and lower the window. ‘Now.’

53

LISA

‘It’s not her.’

‘What?’ I can’t focus. I’m trembling. I have been since I got into the car. Marilyn. She’s holding the steering wheel so tightly as she drives, her knuckles are white.

‘Julia.’ She glances over at me. ‘She’s not Katie.’

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