Page 77 of The World Outside My Window

I walked through to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, downed it. My hands still shook. I knelt down and reached to the back of the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a bottle of vodka I kept hidden there, screwed the lid off and tipped my head back, letting the burning sensation fill my mouth, my throat, my stomach… I took another swig, and another, then almost smashed the bottle off the worktop with a clang. I stood still for a moment, waiting to see whether Jim had heard, whether he would come down to investigate and find me standing drinking vodka in the middle of the night like some desperate alcoholic. No wonder Jim didn’t want to live like this any more, no wonder he was so desperate for me to do something,anythingto get better, to get back the Laura I was when we met.

Who’d want this version of me? Even I didn’t like her.

I felt totally and utterly alone. This wasn’t something I could talk to Jim about, and although Debbie loved me, I didn’t want to burden her any more than I already had. I’d alienated everyone else.

I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming urge to ring my mum. But I knew I couldn’t. I was far too ashamed after all this time to ask her for help.

I’d never felt so utterly alone. And it was all my fault.

27

NOW – 17 OCTOBER 1992

Laura hovers at the entrance to Carol and Arthur’s house and takes a deep breath.

‘You’ve done this before,’ Debbie says, pressing her palm into her friend’s back.

‘Not with this many people at the same time.’

‘It’ll be fine.’ Debbie smiles reassuringly.

Carol has decided to call a meeting – what she grandiosely called an ‘Emergency Street Meeting’ when she came round to tell them about it the day before. Although the last thing Laura feels like doing is being in a room full of people she doesn’t know very well, she didn’t have the heart to refuse when Carol was being so kind. Besides, with Debbie and Ben by her side, she should be fine.

‘Ready?’ Ben reaches up to ring the doorbell. But before Laura can reply, the door swings open.

‘You made it!’ Carol says, clapping her hands together as they step inside.

Carol and Arthur’s living room is packed, a hubbub of voices rising towards the ceiling, spilling out through the open window. Laura’s legs feel like matchsticks, all strength gone, but as she takes in the room and sees Jane smiling at her encouragingly, her nerves start to subside. The furniture has been rearranged, and Marjorie, Faye and Jane are lined up along the sofa, while Arthur sits beside them in his favourite armchair. Tracy has taken the other armchair, while Simon and Sonja are squeezed into the corner behind the living-room door, baby Amelie fast asleep in Sonja’s arms. Debbie and Laura make their way towards the last two empty wooden chairs in the far corner, which have been brought through from the dining room, and Ben follows them, planning to sit on the floor beside Laura.

‘Come and sit beside me, dear,’ Marjorie calls to Ben, patting the arm of the sofa.

‘Yes, you go there, it will be much more comfortable than the floor,’ Carol agrees before he can object, so he settles reluctantly beside Marjorie.

Carol takes her place at the front of the room. Beside her is a small coffee table, a cork pinboard on the wall behind, while a foldable table down one wall groans with plates of sausage rolls, a quiche, cheese straws, some cheese and pineapple sticks and an enormous chocolate cake.

‘You could have just stuck some Wotsits in a bowl and nobody would have cared,’ Arthur said, looking up from his crossword as she bustled in and out all day.

‘I know I could, Arthur, but this is important. It’s got to be just right. I have standards.’

Fortunately for Arthur she didn’t see his eyeroll or he would have received a clip round the ear with the damp tea towel slung over Carol’s shoulder.

Carol claps again, loudly this time, and everyone stops talking and looks in her direction. She’s in her element.

‘Right, everyone, thank you for coming at such short notice.’ Someone coughs and an ancient ginger cat slinks its way round people’s ankles. ‘Shoo, Garfield, out.’ After a shuffle of bodies while Arthur ejects the wayward cat, Carol clears her throat and resumes. ‘As you all know, our friend and neighbour, Jim Parks, has now been missing for a month. And although the police are looking for him, they have found nothing yet. Which means it falls to us, Jim’s friends and neighbours – and his wife, Laura, of course – to do whatever we can to find out what’s happened to him.’

She pauses for effect. Nobody speaks.

‘Right. Well, I know Laura has been to speak to all of you, but I thought it might be a good idea if we put together a trail of evidence and see if we might be able to work it out.’

She pulls out a large sheet of card from behind the sofa. In the middle she’s written ‘Jim’ in huge red letters. The rest is blank.

‘This is my evidence board. I thought we could all write on it the things we know about Jim’s disappearance.’

All right, Juliet Bravo, Arthur thinks, smirking behind his hand. But Laura is touched that Carol has gone to so much effort.

‘So, first, we have Laura,’ Carol continues, turning her back to the room and writing in her neat handwriting. ‘Laura suffers from agoraphobia. Jim becomes her carer. Hard work?’

She turns back to the room with a look of triumph. ‘This is point number one.’ She looks at Laura. ‘Is there anything else I should add to this bit?’ she says, uncertainly.

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