Page 37 of The World Outside My Window

But if it isn’t, then it might just be another cog in her search for her husband, and he can’t deny her that. He picks up the phone and calls Jim’s – and Laura’s – number.

14

THEN – OCTOBER 1989

I heard the key in the lock and felt pathetically grateful that Jim was home. Since the stalker incident earlier that day I’d felt nervous, on edge, jumping at my own shadow. Just having someone else in the flat instantly made me relax. When had I become so reliant on someone else to make me feel safe and happy?

I reached the hallway before Jim noticed me. He was fiddling with something on the side table.

‘You’re home!’ I said, walking towards him with my arms outstretched.

As he looked up, a flash of something I couldn’t read flickered across his face before he smiled, slipping his keys into his pocket.

‘What a day,’ he said, pulling me into a tight hug, and I breathed in his familiar scent, the smell I always missed so much when he was away. I leaned away slightly and looked up at him.

‘What happened?’

He rested his chin on my head and let out a long sigh. His body felt warm against me. ‘Oh, just boring work stuff. People being difficult. Deals going wrong. And a terrible journey – the train was packed and I had to stand all the way from Peterborough.’

‘Oh, you poor thing.’ I stepped away and headed towards the kitchen. ‘Glass of wine?’

‘Love one,’ he said. ‘I’m just going to jump in the shower and I’ll be there.’

He headed into the bathroom and I opened a bottle of Merlot, glugged it into glasses and took a long sip. What had Jim been doing when I’d walked into the hallway? What had he been trying to hide?

Before I could think about what I was doing, I slipped into the bedroom where Jim had discarded his suit on the bed. The shower was still running so I snatched up his suit jacket and dipped my hand into the pocket where I’d seen him put his keys. I pulled them out and studied them. They were just his keys, with his front door key, his office key and his usual BMW keyring. I put my hand back into the pocket and searched around but there was nothing else in there.

I shoved the keys back into the pocket and threw the jacket on the bed just as Jim walked in with his towel wrapped around his waist. He was still in good shape and I felt a surge of desire as he walked across the room and kissed me deeply. ‘What are you up to in here?’ he said, grinning.

‘Nothing, I was just going to put your suit away.’

He looked at where his suit was lying crumpled on the bed. ‘Don’t be daft, I’ll do that. Anyway it needs dry-cleaning, I spilt some wine on it last night.’

‘Oh, were you out?’

‘Yeah, it was a work thing. You know, always having to network in this blooming job.’

I nodded and smiled. But as Jim got dressed and I headed back to the kitchen to grab our glasses of wine, I felt a stab of envy at these people who got to spend all this time with the man I loved four days a week, while I sat at home on my own, missing him. As time had passed I’d seen other people less and less, and I felt lonely and isolated, living here. I rarely went out – the odd cinema trip or meal with Debbie was the extent of it, my other friends having drifted away after endless cancellations by me. One of them might ring me for a chat from time to time but, far from cheering me up, it usually left me feeling more depressed at how stilted our friendship had become.

I only had myself to blame.

Jim sat down next to me and I snuggled into his side and tried to put everything out of my mind. Besides, I had something more pressing to tell him.

‘You seem on edge, is everything okay?’ he said, taking a sip of his wine.

‘I’m fine.’ I wanted to have a chance to have dinner first, talk about normal things before I told him about what had happened. If all I did was cling to him in fear every time he walked through the door, how long would it take for him to get fed up with me?

He pulled away and peered down at me and I met his gaze.

‘Come on, Lola,’ he said, ‘you can’t fool me. What’s happened?’

I sighed, and sat up, tucking my feet beneath me.

‘I think someone is following me,’ I said.

‘Following you? What do you mean?’

I took a deep breath and told him about the encounter in the street earlier that afternoon.

---