by Jane Fallon
Hattie sits opposite me, pulls her too-long sleeves over her fingers so only her blue-painted nails are showing. ‘Not still the same thing?’
‘It’s got so much worse,’ I say and out of nowhere a fat tear runs down my cheek. Followed by about twenty of its friends.
Hattie reaches over the table and puts her hand on top of mine. ‘Oh God, you poor thing. Do you want to talk about it?’
‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘I’m pretty up to speed. Dee told me most of it when you were on the phone to Ashley the other week …’
I should be pissed off with Dee, but actually I’m relieved that Hattie already has a pretty good idea what I’m going through. I fill her in on the last couple of days.
‘Wait, so she confessed everything to you, begged for your forgiveness and then she carried on doing it?’
‘Apparently,’ I say. ‘Although now, like I said, she’s on holiday and it’s still happening. She’s still getting into my email somehow.’
Hattie exhales exaggeratedly, and a wisp of hair stands up off her forehead. ‘Or this is someone else entirely.’
‘That’s too crazy.’ I ruffle Smokey’s ears one time too many and he makes a half-hearted attempt to bite me. ‘That would be like a really bad film where there are two serial killers targeting the same town at once.’
She shrugs. ‘It could happen.’
‘God,’ I say, putting my face in my hands. ‘I really must have done something wrong in a past life.’
She laughs. ‘OK, it probably couldn’t happen. So she must have someone doing her dirty work for her while she’s away.’
I shake my head. ‘There’s only one person who even likes her at this point and she’s too stupid. And how is she getting into my office without anyone seeing her? The walls are glass.’
‘I know,’ Hattie says, slamming her hand down on the table. I jump. ‘Magic.’
I start laughing and so does she. ‘Or … no … it’s a ghost,’ she snorts and I’m helpless. It feels so good to be able to find the situation funny that I can’t stop. Smokey yowls in protest at finding the comfy lap he had settled on vibrating, and jumps down, landing on the floor with a thud.
‘It’s not even funny,’ she says, and for some reason that makes me laugh even more. The pair of us guffaw like we’re at the greatest comedy club in the world. Every time I think I’m about to stop I start again and then so does she. I know it’s a reaction to the tension I’ve been bottling up all these weeks but that doesn’t mean I have any power to control it.
Eventually we both run out of steam. I have tears streaming down my face but I feel better than I have in days. As if a valve has been opened and the pressure finally released.
‘Oh God, I needed that,’ I say, wiping my eyes.
Hattie leans across the table again and pats my hand with her own again. ‘It’ll all be OK. You just have to hang in there.’
By Wednesday afternoon I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief. Nothing has happened. The day is almost over. Maybe the assault is paused until she returns next Monday. One last hurrah before it’s too late. All guns blazing.
It’s almost half past five when I hear a tell-tale ping. My stomach lurches as it has every time I’ve received an email in the past few days. It’s from Tommy, the show’s undisputed heart-throb. Forty years old, a twinkle in his roving eye. Well, the character Jimmy’s roving eye. In real life Tommy is always doing magazine spreads with ‘the missus’ and their five daughters whose ages range from about twenty down to four. He’s been in Churchill Road since day one and he’s always the unofficial spokesperson for the cast when they’ve got a mass grievance. He’s also known for getting drunk at award shows and lairy with journalists or anyone else who gets in his way. He scares me a bit, if I’m being honest.
His email is titled ‘WTF?’
I swallow a wave of nausea. Clamp my hand over my mouth as if that might help. I open up the email, force myself to scan down past his response – although I do catch the words ‘who the fuck do you think you are’ as I go – and read what I am supposed to have written.
Tommy,
I know I shouldn’t send this but I can’t keep quiet any longer. I really like you. And by like you I mean I basically want to rip your clothes off. I’m pretty sure you feel the same because I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know you’re married but no way do I believe you only have eyes for your wife, especially after all those kids. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you’re interested. Could we meet up for dinner or even a drink to ‘discuss’? Xx
P.S. Obviously this is just between me and you!
I start to shake. I feel sick, humiliated, embarrassed. I scroll back up to face the worst. There’s no greeting, nothing to soften his reply.
Where the hell do you get off sending me an email like this? I barely even know who you are, let alone fancy you. And who the fuck do you think you are having a dig at my wife?? I’m sure you wouldn’t like the boss to hear about this?
Shit. I dash out a quick reply, hoping I can get to him before he takes it further.
I didn’t send that email. Please believe me. I would never say anything that unprofessional, or be mean about your family. Someone is sending out emails pretending to be me (ask Patricia). Please don’t speak to Glen before I can fully explain myself.
There’s no time to say any more. For all I know he’s already on his way up to Glen’s office. I glance at the TV on the wall outside and there doesn’t seem to be any sign of him on screen. He must be on a break. It’s almost surreal to look out and see Juliet, Lorraine and Emma just getting on with their work. Unaware of the tsunami that’s just hit me. Unaware that I’m drowning.
I double-check the address my email was sent from but of course it’s the correct one because he’s just hit reply and his response has reached me. Dee had a theory when I spoke to her last that maybe Roz had created a new email address that was one subtle key stroke different to mine. Something the recipient would never notice. Sadly, this proves that theory wrong.
I check my sent box: nothing.
I know I should try and head Tommy off before he gets to Glen but I’m not sure I can face either of them. Either Tommy got my email in time or not. Either – if he did – he’s decided to give me the benefit of the doubt, or not. I could forewarn Glen that there might be trouble on the horizon but that’d just remind him that I’m the cause of it.
I grab up my bag and my jacket. Juliet looks up as I walk past but I just keep moving.
‘I’m going home,’ I mutter to Emma as I pass. I don’t wait for a reply.
In the corridor I keep my head down as I walk past Glen’s office. The door is closed, signifying that he has someone in with him. I can’t even bring myself to think about what might be being said.
I’m sitting on the station platform in a daze when I get a text. Dee.
Come straight to mine after work, it says. Don’t go home first x.
I don’t want to. I want to shut myself away and not see anyone. I want to hide.
Why? I answer. And then I add, I’m knackered.
My phone beeps again. Just do it.
‘Oh, thank God,’ Dee says when she opens the front door.
‘What? What’s going on?’
‘Don’t kill me.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dee. I’m exhausted, I’m fed up, I’m probably unemployed. I just want to go home and veg out.’
She grabs me by the arm and drags me inside. I follow her up the stairs. ‘We might have found the key …’
‘What key? Why are you being so cryptic?’ Today’s candle smell is something churchy. It’s so comforting it makes me want to cry. It reminds me of when I was little and being dragged reluctantly to mass by my mum on a Sunday. Sitting there bored out of my mind, not really understanding anything anyone was saying. She leads me through to the living room. A bottle of red and two glasses sit on the coffee table. ‘Where’s Gavin?�
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‘Birmingham.’ She unscrews the cap and pours two glasses. ‘I’m not being cryptic. Gav found something out. It might be your way to prove that Roz is trying to stitch you up.’
My heart starts to race. I’d all but given up. ‘Tell me.’
We sit at either end of the sofa.
‘OK. I’m going to try and get to the point really quickly …’
‘Good.’
She practically inhales half her glass of wine. ‘So, Gav and Hugh exchanged numbers, just in case Hugh remembered anything significant. And you know how I was wondering if Roz had any friends and who they are? Well, Gav decided to call him and ask if he remembered anyone. Just out of curiosity.’
I have no idea where this is going. I just sit there and wait for her to carry on.
‘He could only really remember one. She used to come into the bar most nights to hang out with Roz while she was working …’
‘And?’
‘Her name was Hattie.’
Part Three
* * *
33
‘No, Dee. I mean, I know you love a conspiracy, but there are literally thousands of people called Hattie in the world. Hundreds of thousands, probably.’ I can’t believe that this is what she’s dragged me over here for. The dramatic instruction that I not go home. All the talk of finding the key.
‘He said he remembers she worked at a dentist’s.’
OK, maybe that is a bit odd. ‘Even so …’
Dee fixes me with a stare. ‘Can you access your work email from home?’
‘Shit. Yes.’
‘And is your password stored?’
I think back to bumping into Hattie leaving my living room. ‘Fuck.’
‘Exactly.’
‘But, what? You think she just happened to end up renting my spare room and then Roz saw an opportunity? That seems a bit far-fetched.’
Dee rolls her eyes. ‘I may be gullible but even I don’t believe in coincidences like that. Who apart from me knew all the qualities you wanted in a lodger? Roz. And then Hattie breezes in and basically lists all those things about herself – quiet, away most weekends, never uses the kitchen. No wonder she seemed too good to be true.’
‘You think Roz set her up to rent the room?’
She nods. ‘Although God knows what was in it for her.’
I sit there trying to get my head around it. Something occurs to me. ‘Did you tell her everything we’d found out about Roz that night Ashley phoned to say she’d broken up with Ryan?’
‘Probably. I remember filling her in on some of it because I was struggling to find stuff to talk about without you there.’
‘It was right after that that Roz spun me that line about her and Hugh having split up. About her having had to move into that awful flat in Shepherd’s Bush and the fact that his birthday party didn’t happen. Maybe even the next day. She knew I was on to her. What she told me explained away everything I thought she’d lied about.’
‘Hattie reported straight back! Everything I told her.’ She suddenly looks crestfallen. ‘I made things worse.’
‘Don’t be stupid. You weren’t to know. I didn’t ask you not to tell her.’
We’re interrupted when Gavin FaceTimes from his mum’s.
‘Did you tell her?’ he says as soon as Dee answers. ‘Hi, Holly.’
Dee swivels the phone round so he can see me and I wave. ‘I did.’
‘Mental, isn’t it?’ he says. ‘I wish I’d met her now.’
‘Absolutely mental,’ I say. ‘I can’t get my head around it at all.’
‘We need to think of a plan,’ Dee chips in. ‘Now we know how she’s doing it we can get her. I know it.’
‘Act completely normally with this Hattie, Holly,’ Gavin says. ‘Don’t give her any clue that you’re on to her.’
‘I won’t. You don’t think she’s a psycho, do you?’
‘Saddo more like,’ Dee says, and that makes me feel better.
I don’t really want to go home later. It feels as if my sanctuary has been invaded by a hostile force. It’s no longer my safe space. There’s a light on in Hattie’s room as I creep down the front steps. I go straight into the bathroom without even taking my jacket off, brush my teeth, and then gather up a disgruntled Smokey – I can see that Hattie’s fed him. How odd. She’s helping try to destroy my life while simultaneously worrying about my cat’s welfare – and shut us both in the bedroom.
I know she would never try to access my computer while I’m at home, so I toy with the idea of not going into work tomorrow, but I know the Tommy situation needs dealing with. Damn, I should have checked my work email before I came to bed to see if he’d responded to my begging message. I know I won’t sleep now unless I know, so I get up again and tiptoe into the living room and fire up my computer. Nothing. I wonder if she’s read his earlier angry missive. Phoned up Roz wherever she is so they could have a good laugh about it. About me.
A wave of absolute anger hits me. How fucking dare they? I’m tempted to change my password again. Say no when my computer asks me if I want to store it. But Dee, Gavin and I talked for a long time about how we would never catch her in the act if we did that. They persuaded me I had to risk another humiliation for the greater good. Of course, that could mean I’ve lost my job before I can prove myself innocent. But it’s a risk I have to take.
Tomorrow morning I am at least going to go in late, giving her no chance to send anything before she leaves for work – although she seems to have had some time off this week already judging by the times the emails have been sent so, who knows, maybe she’s taken holiday to correspond with Roz’s. But, assuming she goes in, once she heads out the door I will text Dee who, luckily, is on a late shift. She’ll hotfoot it round here via the Argos in Swiss Cottage and I’ll leave her here installing a nanny cam hidden on a bookshelf and pointing right at my desktop. Even if Hattie is only pretending to go to work to fool me she won’t dare go into my living room when she returns home if she can hear that someone is in there. If she sees Dee then so what? She’ll just think I’ve asked her to come round for some reason. Dee will have thought up the perfect excuse.
And then if Hattie sits at my desk, accesses my email, we’ll have her.
I barely sleep at all, unsurprisingly. I’m so furious with Hattie that the thought of her sleeping peacefully across the hall incenses me. I realize that I’m going to have to give her notice. The thought of having to deal with her head on gives me chills. And then I remember that she still hasn’t paid me her second month’s rent, that it’s now weeks late. I assume once Roz’s campaign is all over she’ll just do a moonlight flit. I’ll have her deposit but she’ll have been living rent free for weeks. As angry as that makes me I realize it’s actually preferable to us having to live side by side, pretending everything is OK while I wait for her to leave.
I allow myself to lie in for a bit, sending Emma a text from my bed that says I’ll be in an hour or so late. I know I have to face Hattie this morning – only for the pretence that I’m going to be home all morning in the hope that she then goes off to work, or at least pretends to. The last time I saw her she held my hand across the table and told me everything was going to be OK. We solidified what I thought was a new friendship. I breathe in slowly and then out again. I have to act as if everything is still good between us.
I go into the kitchen, feed Smokey and then bang around making myself breakfast. I want her to hear that I’m still here and wonder why. It works. After a few minutes she’s at the kitchen door, PJs on, eyes wide.
‘I thought I heard you. Are you not going into work today?’
I give her a big smile. ‘I decided to take the morning off. I’m going in at lunchtime.’
‘Lucky you,’ she says, yawning. ‘Can you do that? Just take a morning off?’
‘Not really,’ I say. I pour some water into my mug, wave a teabag at her as if to ask if she wants one. She nods. ‘But what’s the worst that can happen?’
‘Good for you.’ She waits while I make the tea. ‘Are you feeling any better?’
‘Shit,’ I say. ‘But the rate it’s going it will all be over by the end of next week. I’ll be looking for another job.’
She takes the mug from me. ‘Poor you.’
It sounds completely genuine. She looks just like she always looks. I hate her.
‘Well, I’d better get ready. Thanks for the tea.’
‘No problem,’ I say with a smile. ‘I’m going back to bed for a bit.’
About half an hour later I hear the front door bang. I creep out into the hall and just catch sight of her heels on the top step. I have no idea whether she’s really gone to work or just to hide out for a few hours to convince me that’s what she’s done. I text Dee: Get round here now.
I use the time while I wait for her to get ready for work myself. By quarter to ten she’s on the doorstep, Argos bag in hand.
‘I owe you,’ I say. ‘And I don’t just mean for the nanny cam.’
We agree where the best place to put it will be, hidden behind a small wooden box that I keep pens in, on the bookshelf. If you looked for it you’d see it, but Hattie has no reason to suspect anything has changed. I hug Dee and leave her to it. I don’t want to be later to work than I have to be. Another black mark against my name.
The first person I see when I enter the building is Glen. My heart leaps into my mouth and then sinks down to my heels. I brazen it out, smile at him.
‘Morning,’ he says. It doesn’t seem as if he’s been dealing with another complaint about me. I smile and say hello.
In the office I go straight over to Emma. ‘Is Tommy Fletcher in?’ I say after a cursory hello. I make sure Lorraine can’t hear what I’m asking. Just in case. Keep my voice low. I wait while Emma checks the schedule.
‘No,’ she whispers, picking up my tone.
‘Was he in yesterday?’
Another few clicks. ‘No. Not since Monday. Do you need to speak to him?’
‘No, it’s OK. It can wait. When’s he back?’
