Henry’s lip curled in response.
‘And say what? She used to live here and now she doesn’t? You’d be wasting police time.’
‘It’s a joke!’ Sofie spat abruptly, making Jessie jump. ‘I can’t believe she’s got all these people out looking for her when she’s probably just run off again. She’s a thief and a liar.’
Jessie was shocked by the venom with which she spoke. Angry red dots appeared on Sofie’s cheeks. Henry’s face had clouded over too.
‘I’ll keep an eye on the news,’ Marcus said pointedly, which made Henry laugh.
‘Nice one, big guy. That’ll help.’
‘Well, if you’ve got a better idea I’d love to hear it?’ Lauren snapped.
She had clearly been rocked by the news too. After a few seconds, Marcus took his plate over to the bin and threw the microwavable container inside, too lazy to put it in the recycling bin. He then busied himself with rearranging the fridge. The whirring of the aged extractor fan became the only other sound in the room. More than anything, Jessie wanted to leave the kitchen which suddenly felt cloyingly hot, and hide in her room, but something about everybody’s reactions made her feel as though she’d been nailed down to her chair.
‘So, does anybody have nice plans for the weekend?’ she asked timidly, moving the pasta around her plate with a fork.
Lauren knew how she felt; her appetite had upped and left too.
‘Not really. I might go for a walk over the Downs,’ she said, grateful for Jessie’s attempt to normalise the sense of sticky discomfort coating the walls. ‘How about you?’
The three remaining fish were now all floating at the bottom of the bowl.
‘Nothing much either, probably just stay at Priya’s when she gets back tomorrow.’
At that, Lauren started drawing heavily on her e-cigarette, the familiar chocolate-box aroma overpowering the garlicky dinner smell. There was something about the scent of the vape pen which left Jessie feeling uneasy, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. A siren call sounded, from deep down in her gut, and then it hit: the smell reminded her of the night she was attacked. Lauren must have been using it a lot around that time. Jessie couldn’t stop a tremor passing through her.
‘I’m going to the shop to get some real cigarettes,’ Lauren said finally, throwing the vape pen onto the table and rubbing her temples. ‘Jessie, do you want to come with me?’
‘I’ll stay and do the washing-up,’ she replied, sensing that Lauren might need some time alone to gather her thoughts.
When the door slammed shut, it took a few moments before anyone moved, then Henry scraped his chair back.
‘Shall we get going, then?’ he ruffled the top of Sofie’s head, making her new fringe stick out at a funny angle.
She looked like a helpless baby deer. Her slender arms were so delicate, it was a miracle they didn’t snap as she went about daily life. Jessie often forgot how young she was too, having barely turned twenty-one. Henry scuffed his boat shoe on the floor impatiently. Sofie locked eyes with Jessie.
‘I’m staying here tonight.’ Her words were carefully considered.
Henry looked irritated.
‘Why? It’s so much nicer at mine.’
Sofie glared at him. Jessie immediately regretted not going to the shop with Lauren. She could sense an argument brewing.
‘What’s the point of me paying rent to live in this flat if I’m never in it?’ Sofie replied. ‘Hmm? Go on, tell me.’
Marcus stopped rummaging in the fridge. Henry said nothing; she had a point.
‘I stay at yours basically every night, yet you’re still too afraid to properly ask me to move in with you because of your bloody mother,’ she continued. ‘I’ve tried everything to make her like me, to feel like I’m worthy of being with you, but to be honest, my patience is wearing thin.’
Jessie looked at the doorway, desperate to leave the table. Could she just get up and walk out without saying anything?
‘You know it’s not as simple as that,’ Henry hissed next to her. ‘She’s not well, Sofie. I don’t want to upset her.’
Marcus shut the fridge and silently left the room. Jessie looked at the doorway again, then got up and left too.
‘See what you’ve done, Henry?’ she heard from the hallway.
In her room, Jessie sat cross-legged on her bed, then got up to double-check the door was locked. A minute or so later she jiggled the handle again. She felt similar to a spider trapped under a glass, in that her surroundings all looked the same, yet were slightly distorted. These were the same four walls that Magda had slept within. She wished Priya wasn’t away, tonight of all nights, otherwise she’d have called a taxi and headed straight over to her place.
Jessie paced her room, then decided to try and distract herself by watching something quietly on her laptop. A comedy would be best; a bit of light relief was desperately needed. She’d never seen that side of Sofie before and it was unsettling; their youngest flatmate was usually so caring and compassionate and no matter how bad things had been left with Magda, surely Sofie would be concerned about her? She was beginning to resent how similarly Sofie was dressing like her too – the novelty had well and truly worn off and Jessie had noticed even her voice had changed now. It was creepy.
Eventually, Jessie drifted off to the sound of canned laughter. The room was dark, apart from the usual chink of moonlight that shone in through the gap in the curtains and the laptop switched itself onto a black screensaver. A small clock in the bottom right-hand corner showed it was nearing midnight when the rattling sound started up. It worked its way into Jessie’s dream at first, where she was frantically trying to figure her way out of The Lanes again, then tugged her back out of sleep. Was it happening in real life? She sat up and looked towards the door. The handle was moving – somebody on the other side was trying to get in. Then a knock came.
‘Jessie, are you in there?’ Sofie whispered. ‘I just want to talk about earlier, about the way I acted at dinner. I’m so sorry for that.’
She sounded normal, but still … Jessie didn’t move, not wanting to let on that she was inside and awake. She closed her laptop quietly and placed it on the floor, then drew the covers over herself, pretending to be asleep. She stayed as still as possible until she heard Sofie sigh and go back to her own bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jessie struggled to get back sleep after that, her mind busy, fighting against her weary body. Somewhere in the early hours of the morning she decided a camomile tea might help. Throwing her gym hoody on and making as little sound as possible unlocking the door, she tiptoed downstairs. Reaching the last step, she stood opposite the junk cupboard in the hall and paused, considering taking a look inside. There could be more letters addressed to Magda in there, or something that might shed some light on her whereabouts. It was worth a try.
She slid the bolt over and stepped inside, leaving the door slightly ajar so as not to feel suffocated because it was only a couple of metres deep in there. She felt around for the light switch and clicked it on. It had been painted over with the same cream colour as the walls, meaning all the smeared fingerprints of other residents showed up prominently. The thought that Magda would have touched the same switch made Jessie shudder. She was echoing the life of a missing woman. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but what if Magda had died and was watching her now, somehow searching for fragments of her old life? Jessie shook her head. It was too easy for her exhausted, overly medicated mind to get carried away. Jessie approached the box she’d found the letter in previously and realised a few words had been scrawled on the side in looped, permanent marker. It wasn’t the neatest writing, but it looked as though it said ‘Beth’s stuff’.
Nobody had ever mentioned a Beth before. Another box, on the shelf below, had a label with ‘Georgia’ on it, another new name. Inside, Jessie found more letters addressed to various ex-tenants who’d since moved on, little paper reminders that renting is nothing but an endless cycle o
f living in a home that never really quite belongs to you. A home where you have to email a stranger asking for permission before you hang a picture up in ‘your’ living room, which you share with people you either found through a letting agent or online and took a gamble on. It was a thin thread that wove all these lives together and placed them under one roof. If she’d have gone for the basement apartment that smelled of rubber, at least she wouldn’t be caught up in this Magda mess. Maybe she’d have never been attacked, either. Then again, if Matthew was involved, as she fretted he was, then perhaps things would still be exactly the same. Only her bedroom would be smaller. All these names, all these woman who’d passed through this flat before her … why had none of them stayed? Suddenly the cupboard felt like a coffin and Jessie wanted out. But when she turned to leave she saw the door was no longer ajar.
‘No, no it can’t have,’ she muttered to herself, pushing at it harder.
When it didn’t budge, she began to panic. It was jammed. Jessie thought about banging on it loudly in the hope that Marcus might wake up and let her out – his room was just across the way, after all. But then she’d have to explain why she was looking through boxes of old possessions in the storage cupboard at three in the morning. Her phone was back upstairs so she couldn’t call for help either. She thumped her fist against the wooden door again, with more force this time. The air tasted stale. She had to get out, there was no way she could wait until the morning to be found. Her panic levels were rising and it was getting harder to breathe by the second. Jessie crouched down and put her head between her legs, then tried to call for help.
‘Marcus? Hello, Marcus?’ she shouted, the walls eating her words, transforming them into useless muffles.
Jessie could feel her forehead had turned clammy. She banged at the door again and again and again, until finally, it swung open. She sagged with relief momentarily, then stiffened. Henry was there, standing in the dark, the moon shining in through the kitchen window highlighting one side of his chiselled face. He was naked from the muscular waist up, wearing only navy jogging bottoms, laughing.
‘Your face is a picture right now.’
A typical school bully prank for him to have played, locking her in that tight space with the spiders and the damp, so soon after she’d been attacked too, when her nerves were so evidently in tatters to everybody around her. He probably got off on playing tricks like that.
‘I didn’t think you’d stayed here?’ she asked, finally rediscovering her voice.
Henry grimaced.
‘It didn’t feel right leaving Sofie here to sleep alone. She’s been so jumpy lately, especially since that day you all thought someone broke in.’
With that, he smirked. Jessie needed to get out of the confined space.
‘So, no chance of a thank-you kiss for rescuing you, then?’ Henry said, still obviously amused.
‘You think that’s funny?’ Jessie said, pushing past him and catching her breath. ‘Locking someone in a cupboard isn’t a joke, Henry.’
She felt braver now that she was back in the hallway.
‘I didn’t lock you in.’ He shot her a withering look. ‘Sofie woke me up when she heard a noise and asked me to check downstairs.’
Jessie was about to walk upstairs without saying anything, but then stopped a few steps up and looked down on Henry.
‘Doors don’t just bolt themselves.’
She let her words hang in the air for effect, then headed back to her bedroom, making sure her own door was tightly locked.
Jessie awoke again a few hours later but stayed in her room, reluctant to go downstairs until she heard Sofie and Henry leave. She was still shaken from being trapped in the cupboard and couldn’t handle the thought of having to make awkward small talk with anybody either. It was as though irate guard dogs were patrolling the corridors outside. Her stomach rumbled, demanding toast with jam. She was thirsty, too, but didn’t want to leave the safety of her room. The atmosphere in the flat was extremely tense now and she just wanted to hide, blocking it all out. Jessie searched desperately through her handbag, hoping to find an old bottle of water, but had no luck. As her thirst grew, she knew she’d have to brave it. She put her headphones in for a boost of courage, a visual signal to show she didn’t want to chat right now, and headed downstairs.
Reaching the kitchen and finding it empty, she breathed a sigh of relief and leant against the counter. A note from Sofie had been left on the table, reminding everyone to feed the three remaining fish. Lauren walked in.
‘Morning, babe, how’s it going?’ She sounded downcast.
There was a little smear of paint on her nose so she’d obviously been working on one of her canvases. Jessie responded as she usually would. How ridiculous would it sound to bring up that Henry had imprisoned her in a cupboard in the middle of the night? Especially given that Lauren had seemed so rattled by the news about Magda yesterday.
‘Not too bad; had a bit of a rough night’s sleep so just getting some of this on the go.’
As Jessie raised her mug of coffee in the air, a bit of brown liquid dripped onto the floor. Lauren gave a small chuckle, but Jessie could tell it was forced.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.
Lauren gave a half-hearted shrug.
‘It’s such a stressful time at the moment. Seeing Magda all over the news, someone I lived with and was so close to …’ Lauren’s eyes started glazing over. ‘It’s a shock.’
Jessie placed the mug down and wrapped her arms around Lauren in a hug. Her shoulders jerked.
‘I can’t imagine how it must feel and I’m so sorry. If you ever want to talk about anything, you know I’m always here.’
After the attack, Lauren had really been the one to step up and look after her when she had needed a friend the most. Lending an ear was the least Jessie could do in exchange.
‘How about we head into town later?’ Jessie suggested. ‘Cheer ourselves up with a bit of retail therapy and grab a slice of cake.’
She didn’t especially want to be out in a crowd, but felt she could manage it with Lauren by her side. Lauren reached for a sheet of kitchen roll.
‘Sorry about this, I hate crying in front of people,’ she sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. ‘Sounds great. I think we could both use a bit of that.’
They decided to walk into the city centre. Jessie kept her hands buried deep inside her pockets and her collar pulled up, wondering how Lauren could stand to smoke and expose her fingers to the wind like that. She guessed her vape pen had definitely been set aside for now. As they began their climb of North Street, the large swooping road leading up to the Churchill Square mall, they passed a Subway sandwich shop. Sitting on the floor on dirty sleeping bags outside were two homeless women, one of whom was stroking a German Shepherd dog. A paper coffee cup containing a pitiful few silver coins had been placed next to their cardboard sign asking for change.
They looked bored and defeated, watching a crowd of people with weekend plans rush past them, barely pausing to acknowledge the two skinny figures. Jessie spotted them from a few metres away and realised she recognised the woman on the right, the one with the long dark hair. She was wearing the same beanie as she had on that evening when Jessie had stood under the Christmas lights and noticed her sitting on the steps around the Clock Tower. The image of the woman’s sunken eyes contrasted against the twinkling decorations had stayed with her, along with the fact that she and the woman appeared to be close in age. It was upsetting to think how their lives had probably started off in a similar way but had turned out so differently. Really, homelessness was a misfortune that could befall anybody. She herself was only ever one missed rent payment away from having to move back in with her parents or crash on Priya and Zoe’s couch. Not everybody had that support system. She didn’t recognise the other woman with dreadlocks, who looked a lot older, petting the dog.
The younger woman connected with Jessie’s sympathetic gaze, then moved her eyes over to Lauren. Quickly,
she then looked down at her lap, trying to cover her face with her hair and whispered something to her friend.
‘Evil,’ the older woman rasped, pointing at Lauren, who flinched but didn’t stop walking. ‘That one is pure evil!’
A few strangers heard and turned to look in their direction. Lauren sped up and so did Jessie. She could hear the homeless women starting to argue with one another.
‘It’s really sad to see so many people on the streets, isn’t it, especially when they’re obviously on drugs and not with it,’ Lauren said calmly, when they were far enough away not to be heard.
Jessie glanced back over her shoulder. The dark-haired woman was quivering. She didn’t know what to think. But Lauren could be right; the woman with dreadlocks was under the influence of something.
‘Can we pop into Boots quickly? I just need to grab a few bits,’ Lauren continued, eyes facing forward.
‘Sure,’ nodded Jessie, as they approached the store.
She turned back again. The women had gone back to fussing over the dog. Once inside the shop, Jessie and Lauren went in separate directions, with Lauren heading towards the pharmacy section at the back.
Jessie wandered through the rows of neatly displayed toiletries. Something about the fact they were all new and untampered with felt like a head stroke to her. She appreciated order. A rotating display unit of pristine nail varnish bottles called her name and she picked out a pale pink one then put it back again. It’d be a tricky purchase to justify, given that she already had plenty in similar shades at home. She ran a speedy mental checklist of basic essentials and realised her shampoo was running low, so at least she could warrant buying a replacement for that. Perhaps a new sleep spray to relax her before bed wouldn’t go amiss either.
Lauren found her in the haircare aisle, standing between the shampoos and a shelf full of dyes, looking at what was on offer.
‘Maybe you should go blonde like me?’ she suggested, picking up a box of at-home bleach.
The Wrong Move Page 18
