Page 10 of The Psychopath Next Door

‘And he’ll just want cheese and tomato. He’s boring like that.’

‘Is he? How about you?’

Rose scanned the menu quickly. ‘I’ll have the hot one. Extra chilis.’ She waited, as if daring Fiona to protest.

‘A good choice, madam.’ She called to place the order, then said, ‘Want to show me your room?’

Rose hesitated. ‘Why?’

‘I’m interested to see it, that’s all. But if you don’t want to ...’

‘No. It’s cool.’

Fiona followed Rose up the stairs. They reached the landing and Fiona could hear music thumping inside Dylan’s room, like rap music but not quite. Was it called grime? Fiona was completely out of touch, and had never been a big fan of music anyway. To her, music was nothing more than noise. She was the last person who would ever visit Ethan’s record shop, though she would never tell him that. In the past, she had tried to force herself to like music, to understand its appeal, until she realised that a lot of normal people weren’t into it either.

They went into Rose’s room and Fiona was almost floored by an unfamiliar sensation. What was it? Nostalgia? Homesickness? More likely it was simply a form of disorientation caused by familiarity. Because this room was so similar to Fiona’s own room when she was twelve years old, it was almost as if she’d stepped through a hole in time.

Yes, of course, this was a modern version. The computer on the desk was infinitely superior to the one Fiona had once owned, the curtains and bedding were modern, and it all had that twenty-first-century sheen. But Fiona recognised it instantly. The walls were painted white and the carpet was a neutral biscuit colour. Everything was neat and shelved in an orderly fashion. There were a couple of trophies on the bookshelves: a spelling bee and a maths cup, but nothing sporty. A few posters on the wall of an attractive young woman who Fiona guessed must be a pop star.

And there was one more thing that made Fiona feel like she was visiting her childhood bedroom. There in the corner, on the floor, was an old steamer trunk with several Barbie dolls on top.

‘You like Barbie?’

‘They’re old,’ Rose said quickly. Her cheeks had gone pink. ‘I’m going to get rid of them soon.’

‘Oh, that would be a shame.’ Fiona dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I played with my Barbies far longer than everyone said I should.’

‘Really?’

‘Would I lie to you?’ She crossed the room. ‘Can I have a look?’

Tentatively, as if she thought Fiona might be taking the piss, Rose opened the trunk to reveal her collection of dolls and cars and ponies and all the accessories that came along with them.

The memories came rushing back. It was an unfamiliar sensation. Fiona lived in the present and the future. It was something Maisie had taught her: to have no regrets, but not to bathe in warm nostalgia either. Both were a waste of time.

Her Barbies, though. She had so enjoyed playing with them. Chopping off their hair, sometimes pulling off a limb. Holding them over a candle until her mum would shout and ask what was burning. Using them to act out her cruellest fantasies.

‘Wow, this is quite a collection,’ she said.

Rose had lifted out a Barbie with vivid auburn hair, dressed in a ballgown, all lace and frills. ‘This is my favourite,’ she said, her voice hushed. ‘She’s the ruler. She tells the others what to do.’

‘Oh, really? What kinds of things?’

Rose didn’t reply with words. Instead, she took out a blonde Barbie who was dressed in little shorts and a pink tank top. The hair had obviously been hacked at with scissors and the doll looked like she’d been to the world’s worst make-up artist. There were also dark circles on her arms and legs. Burn marks.

‘Oh my God,’ Fiona whispered.

Rose immediately said, ‘It was an accident. I didn’t mean—’

Fiona laid a hand on her arm. ‘No. It’s cool. You don’t need to explain.’ She wasn’t gasping because she was horrified. It was because it was, again, like staring into the past.

But Rose clearly felt uncomfortable. She scooped the toys up and dropped them back in the trunk.

‘I don’t want to play this. Not now.’

‘Of course.’ Fiona adopted her understanding smile. ‘What would you like to do instead?’

Rose had crossed the room to the window, drawn by noises from outside. Fiona went over to stand beside her. The window gave a view of the street, and the house where Albie and Eric lived.

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