Page 25 of The Dead Ex
‘That’s right.’ It was the ginger boy with a rash of red spots all over his chin and yellow bits on top. ‘If you want us to be nice, you’ve got to do exactly what we say. Just wait for the word. It mightbe tomorrow or next week or the week after that. We’ve got to make sure it’s safe first.’ He stepped towards her, looking mean.
What was he going to do? Sometimes when she got really frightened, she couldn’t help …
‘Shit.’ The black-eyed girl was pointing. ‘The new kid’s just pissed herself.’
Scarlet went red and hot. She wanted to run away and hide. Everyone was looking.
‘Baby, baby,’ chantedthe boys.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ demanded Mrs W. Her beady eyes took in the damp patch on the swirly red landing carpet.
‘I don’t believe it! They’ve only gone and sent me another bedwetter! That’s it. You’re out, my girl. First thing in the morning.’
Sometimes I’ll get a phone call from a husband who wants to buy a voucher for his loved one, to celebrate a special occasion. One man said his wife was ‘too shy for her own good’. So I treated her with eucalyptus for confidence and (because I hadn’t cared for the husband’s arrogant tone) I blended it with basil for ‘mental enthusiasm and concentration’. With any luck, that might sharpen her mind and get rid of him.
Yet physician heal thyself! I should have taken a dose of my own medicine when David cut our honeymoon short for ‘an important meeting’. Was Tanya there too? Bet she was. That woman deserves to be punished. And so does my ex.
7
Vicki
16 February 2018
They insist they’ll have to keep me in for another twenty-four hours because I don’t have anyone at home to look after me.
‘No one at all?’ different nurses keep asking, even though I’ve told them enough times. Their disbelief makes me feel worse. What kind of woman gets to her mid-forties and doesn’t have a lover or a best friend or a child or a parent orsomeonetobe around at a time like this?
Patrick … Patrick …
The emptiness in my chest should surely have eased by now. But as each year passes, it seems to get bigger.
Still, at least the detective with his fawn raincoat and that policewoman with her narrowing eyes have gone. I try to brush away my fears. Tell myself that they can’t accuse me of having something to do with a walkabout ex-husband justbecause I have memory lapses. But I get the distinct feeling they will be back.
A chirpy orderly with aHOSPITAL FRIENDbadge comes round with a trolley. Its wheels click as she rams it by mistake into the bottom of my bed. Drinks. Sweets. Newspapers. Would I like anything?
I’m about to say no. I’ve ignored the news for yearsnow as part of my ‘determined to stay positive’ attitude. But thenI spot a tabloid which was a favourite with the girls. Its headline screams out: WEALTHY BUSINESSMAN STILL MISSING.
He is staring right at me. My skin goes cold with goosebumps. Then hot so that my cheeks burn. And cold again.
‘Fears are growing for missing property dealer David Goudman. Police are appealing for anyone with information to get in touch.’
My fingers trace the distinctive outlineof his nose. I can almost stroke his face. Smell the expensive musky cologne he used to wear. Imagine his arms around me. The touch of his lips on mine. The horrified look in his eyes after I had my first seizure.
Until now, none of this has seemed real, despite the visits from the police. Men like David are invincible. Bad things don’t happen to them. But the picture and the news story meanI can’t pretend any more. My ex-husband has disappeared. And I might – or might not – have something to do with it.
When I get home the next day, the first thing I do is take the thing that was behind the pillow and slip it under the mattress instead. Just in case.
Then I put on the radio for company and microwave some soup. Parsnip and carrot with a hint of ginger and curry powder, which I’veadded for kick. I’m feeling hungry. Seizures often do that to me but it’s not the same for everyone. There are no definite rules because there are over forty different types of epilepsy and each person will be affected differently. At least this is what I was told when I finally got a diagnosis.
There were other ‘helpful tips’ too.
You might find that your character changes.This could be due to the medication rather than the condition.Yes. I used to be so much more confident.
Some relatives and friends find it difficult to accept. Too true.
Someone with epilepsy is not advised to live alone. If only I had a choice. ‘You do have an alarm, don’t you?’ said the nurse when she discharged me.
‘Sure,’ I’d said. But the truth is that I quite often don’t wear it. Especially when I haveclients.
