by Cross,Amy
“Wasn't really here,” she mumbles, or at least I think that's right. “Not looking at me.”
“Katie?” I say finally, starting to feel genuinely worried. “Katie, what's wrong?”
I wait.
No reply.
“Katie!”
Startled, she turns and looks at the camera.
“Are you on some kind of...” I pause, before realizing that the question is completely unnecessary. I know full well that Katie isn't the sort of girl who'd ever take illicit substances. I have a hard enough time persuading her to try a sip of wine or take paracetamol for a headache. Still, she seems totally zoned out, and I can't help worrying that perhaps all the fumes in London might be affecting her. After all, she's used to good, clean country living in our little village.
“I'm fine,” she says suddenly, forcing a smile that doesn't seem entirely convincing. “Mum, you worry too much. I've got school every day this week, so it's not like I'm even gonna have time to get into trouble. I wanna really get stuck in and do well on this course. That's gonna take a lot of studying! It's okay, though, 'cause they've got this amazing library that's open late every night.”
She seems okay now, as if she's snapped out of whatever was causing her daze.
“I should get going,” she continues. “I have to study, and I need to go to the corner store, and then I want to be in bed by nine. I'm sorry if I seem kinda vacant, Mum, but I'm really just -”
Suddenly she turns and looks over her shoulder, and then she pauses for a few seconds before turning back to the camera. For a moment, there's something in her eyes that makes me feel a little unsettled. Fear, maybe, or at least concern.
“I'm really fine,” she adds, smiling again. “Maybe a little jumpy, but apart from that, I'm good.”
“You'd better be,” I reply, sipping more wine. “Don't make me come over there and put you straight.”
“You don't need to come over here, Mum.”
“Because I could, you know!” I continue. “I was looking last night, and trains from Shropley to London are really very reasonable. I could be there on Friday, and we could spend the weekend -”
“I don't need you to come and take care of me!” she says firmly. “I'm absolutely, positively, categorically doing just fine! And if you want me to make friends, I need to get off Skype and start preparing for class tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” I say with a sigh, before taking another sip of wine. “But call me!”
“I will.”
“Tomorrow!”
“Either tomorrow or Wednesday. It depends on how much I have to study. I might be at the library tomorrow evening.”
“Well, that sounds -”
“And now I really have to go. Bye, Mum! Talk soon!”
“Don't forget to call me!” I remind her. “Katie? Call me! You must -”
The line goes dead, and I sigh as I lean back on the sofa. I know she's fine, I know my little girl is more than capable of taking care of herself, but I just...
I miss her.
I turn and look across the dark living room for a moment, before grabbing the wine bottle. I'll find a movie to watch in a moment, but first I just want a nice, relaxing glass to calm my nerves. And as I fill my glass almost to the brim, I can't help thinking of Katie in her boxy little London apartment, getting ready for bed.
As selfish as it might seem, I can't wait for these six weeks to be over, so she can come home again.
“Puss!” I call out, hoping that the car will come running. “Pussy? Puss!”
I grab some Dreamies from a bag on the table and wait for the cat to come to me, but evidently he's far too busy somewhere else in the house. After waiting for a few minutes and calling his names some more times, I put the treats back in their bag and grab the remote control.
“Katie is fine,” I mutter under my breath, to reassure myself. “Stop being such an unbearable old fuss-pot, Winifred.”
Chapter Three
The Third Call
“No, Mum, I've been fine! I was just busy, that's all!”
“Because I very nearly called the police and asked them to check on you,” I continue, not quite willing to let her off the hook just yet. “Or at least the school. You said you'd call me on Tuesday, Katie, and -”
“I said I'd try to call you on Tuesday! I also said I'd be at the library!”
“And then on Wednesday I was expecting -”
“I sent you a message! I told you I couldn't call on Wednesday!”
“A one-line message that didn't explain anything at all!”
“And on Thursday I was studying as well,” she continues, “but look, I made time right now to -”
Suddenly she turns and looks over her shoulder, and I hear another girl's voice in the background.
“Just try them!” Katie tells the girl. “If they're your size, you should wear them tonight! I don't mind!”
She turns back to the camera.
“Sorry,” she says with a grin. “That's just Agnes.”
“Agnes?”
“Yeah. Agnes.”
“Is Agnes a new friend?”
“We're heading out into town soon,” she continues, leaning toward the camera as she starts applying a little mascara. “Nothing too crazy. We just thought we'd hop between a couple of bars, get a feel for the place. London on a Friday night is probably a little too intense for me, but hey, I figure I should try to experience it at least once. We're not going into the center, though.”
“So Agnes is on the same course as you?”
She nods as she squints, and it's clear she's paying more attention to her own face than to me as she applies more make-up. I've never seen her use make-up before. At least, nothing more than a few dabs of concealer and some discreet nail-polish.
“And where is Agnes from?” I ask.
“Huh? Oh, France. Somewhere in France.”
“That's nice. So she's here on a visit?”
I wait for her to explain a little more, but for a few seconds she seems utterly focused on her mascara. A moment later, a pretty blonde girl comes into view behind her and immediately grabs Katie's waist, causing my poor girl to shriek and laugh in shock.
“Sorry,” Agnes says with a thick French accent, glancing at the camera. “Is this your mother, Katie? Are you talking to your mother from the countryside?”
“Mum,” Katie mutters, “I should probably get going. I still need to find something to wear.”
“Don't wear anything too revealing,” I tell her.
“Oh, as if! Come on, you know me!”
“Hello, Mrs. Wren!” Agnes says, grinning and waving at me. “It's very nice to meet you! Katie and I are going out tonight in London to have fun! We are going to meet many bars!”
“That's lovely,” I reply, although I can't help feeling that this is a little unlike Katie. Then again, she does seem to be having fun. “Darling, just make sure you don't -”
“We need to finish this whiskey before we leave,” a man says suddenly, wandering into shot directly behind Katie. He's shirtless, revealing a toned, tanned chest and bulging muscles, and for a moment I'm genuinely too shocked to even process what I'm seeing. He drinks straight from the whiskey bottle, before handing it to Agnes and leaning down to peer at the camera.
“Hey Mum,” Katie says, seemingly a little embarrassed now. “This is Fernando. He's from Spain.”
“Hello Katie's Mom!” Fernando says with a big grin, leaning even closer to the camera and waving at me. “You are very beautiful, like your daughter! I see the family resemblance in your sparkling eyes and your cute but slightly mischievous smile!”
“My eyes do not sparkle!” I reply, startled by the fact that my meek, shy daughter seems to have rather suddenly made two friends.
“They sparkle like the moon reflected in the river,” he continues. “Like the stars themselves!”
“Yes, well...”
I tuck my hair behind my ears and take a deep breath.
> “That's all well and good,” I mutter, “but I think sparkling is a bit much.”
As Fernando steps back and goes to talk to Agnes, Katie continues to apply make-up, although she appears slightly embarrassed.
“I really should go,” she says after a moment. “Don't worry, though. Fernando has been in London for a while now and he knows his way around really well. He's gonna take me and Agnes to a couple of bars, but we're barely gonna drink at all. This isn't gonna be some alcohol-soaked bender, it's just a chance to experience the city a little better. Or part of it, anyway. Fernando seems to know some really cool people.”
“That sounds lovely,” I reply, “but -”
“Just chill, Mum,” she adds as she starts applying bright red lipstick. “I need to do this in the bathroom,” she mutters after a moment, “but listen, I'm gonna have fun tonight, and you should have fun too. Maybe call someone and go out! Go to the village pub with Maud and Lucy. Don't they have quiz night tonight? You should do that!”
“It wouldn't be the same without you,” I reply.
“And steak night! Go get a big, juicy steak!”
“Some other time.”
“Aw, Mum, come on.” She focuses on the lipstick for a moment longer. “I don't like thinking of you all alone in that place.”
“I'm going to watch a film on the television,” I tell her. “It's about -”
“Gotta go!”
She reaches out to cut the connection.
“Call me!” I remind her. “Tomorrow! Katie, call me!”
“I will! Have fun!”
I open my mouth to remind her that she must be careful, but the call has already been ended, leaving me once again sitting all alone and in silence on the sofa.
“Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” I mutter, staring at the screen for a moment before leaning back and sighing.
Chapter Four
The Fourth Call
The video screen flickers for a moment, as if the connection isn't very steady, but finally I'm just about able to see Katie's face as she leans back from the camera. I'm immediately struck by the fact that she looks absolutely ghastly, with pale skin and tired, ringed eyes. Her hair is straggly and chaotic, and there appears to be old make-up smeared around her lips and chin, while she has a gray blanket pulled tight around her shoulders.
“Hey,” she stammers, her voice sounding weak and rasping. “Sorry I didn't call yesterday, I...”
She pauses for a moment.
“I, uh... I just didn't get a chance.”
“What's wrong?” I ask, shocked by her appearance. Behind her, the apartment looks a mess, with some kind of black writing scrawled across the walls. “Katie -”
“I'm fine,” she replies, although she sounds a little uncertain. “Maybe I'm just a little... I don't know, hungover still. Don't fuss.”
“You went out again last night?”
“No, I was in last night. I was here.”
“Then why didn't you call me?”
Again, she seems to momentarily zone out a little.
“Why didn't I call you?” she asks finally. “Oh, um... I was just busy, that's all. Studying...”
“What does that say on the wall?” I reply, leaning closer to the screen. “Katie, I hope that'll come off. You want to get your deposit back when you leave the apartment, remember?”
“Huh?”
She stares at the camera, before slowly turning and looking at the wall for a moment, where somebody looks to have written several unintelligible words alongside various signs and symbols. The whole thing is utterly ghastly, and Katie seems lost for words as she slowly and very lethargically turns back to me.
“That's nothing,” she mumbles. “The landlord'll be cool.”
“Are you alone?”
“What?”
“Right now. In the apartment. Are you alone?”
A faint flicker of confusion crosses her face.
“Yeah,” she whispers finally. “I'm alone.”
“And what are you doing?” I continue. “What's going on? Are you sick?”
“I'm a little sick.”
“What's wrong with you?”
“I don't know. Just something that's going around. You know how it is.”
“No,” I reply, trying not to panic, “I don't know how it is. Tell me. Are you nauseous? Do you have a high temperature?”
“I'm not gonna throw up,” she mutters, sounding almost as if she's on the verge of falling asleep. “If that's what you're worried about, you don't need to. I don't think I'm hot, either. It's a cool day. I've got the window open and there's a breeze. The river smells a bit, though.”
She's still clutching the blanket over her shoulders, although after a moment it slips a little to reveal her bare neck. To my horror, I see what looks like a thick cut in her flesh, running down to where the blanket covers her chest, and I think there might be another cut running through the first.
“What happened to your chest?” I ask, leaning closer. “Katie, are you hurt?”
“What?” She pauses, before looking down at the cuts and then pulling the blanket over them. “No, Mum, that's nothing.”
“It looked like there was a pattern,” I continue. “Katie -”
“It's nothing,” she continues, interrupting me again. “I fell over the other night while we were out, that's all. We had a few drinks after all, but Agnes and Fernando took really good care of me. And I wasn't drunk, I was just tipsy, and I was wearing heels, and that was completely new to me and...”
Her voice trails off.
I wait.
She stares past the camera, as if she's looking at something behind the laptop. After a few more seconds her lips start moving, and I realize she's whispering something to herself. Just as I'm about to ask what's wrong, she suddenly turns and looks over her shoulder, staring toward the wall before finally turning back to look at the camera again.
“I have to go,” she stammers. “I need to -”
“Wait a moment,” I reply, trying to stay calm even though it's clear something is wrong. “Katie, I don't like what I'm seeing. You look pale, and sick, and -”
“I just need to go to bed,” she continues. “Seriously, I think maybe I'm coming down with flu or... Yeah, that's probably it. I just have flu.”
I open my mouth to ask if she's been to the pharmacy, but suddenly I notice that there's something new on the tilted shelf behind her. Peering closer at the screen, I realize that there appears to be some kind of foot-high statue, seemingly made from a twisted column of wax and fashioned into a rough approximation of a human body. I stare at it for a moment, convinced that I must be wrong.
“Katie,” I say cautiously, “sweetheart... What's that thing behind you?”
“There's nothing behind me,” she mumbles, still staring at the camera.
“On the shelf, sweetheart. There's a... I don't know what it is, it looks like a figurine of some sort. A wax figurine, on the shelf.”
“Huh?”
She hesitates, before slowly turning and looking over toward the shelf. This seems to consume her attention for fully half a minute, and then she turns back to look at me again.
I wait.
She says nothing.
“The figurine,” I remind her finally. “Was it a gift?”
“The...”
She furrows her brow again.
“Oh,” she continues after a few more seconds. “Yeah. Sure. I think so.”
“You think so?”
I pause for a moment, before realizing that something seems very wrong. This is not the smart, bright girl I waved off on the train barely a week ago. She seems foggy and disturbed, as if she's not quite sure where she is or what's happening.
“You know what?” I say with a smile, trying not to act like I'm too worried. “I think I might hop on a train and visit you. Just for a couple of days. I've always wanted to see London, and the prices are very low. If I book now, I can be there tonight, and then -”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I'm fine, Mum!”
“I'm sure you are, but I'd like to -”
“Don't come!”
“Sweetheart -”
“Mum do not come here!” she says firmly. “I'm serious! There's nothing wrong except maybe I have flu, and the last thing I need right now is to have you hovering around the place!”
“I hardly think I'd be hovering,” I reply, feeling a little put out by her resistance. “You said before you left that you'd like it if I visited. I was going to come toward the end of your stay, but now I think I'll -”
“If you come, I won't let you in!”
I open my mouth to ask what she means, but it's clear from her defiant stare that she's very firmly against the idea of me showing up.
“It'd be embarrassing,” she continues. “Everyone else doesn't have their parents showing up to check on them.”
“I wouldn't be -”
“Just leave me alone,” she adds. “Mum, I really want to go to bed. I have flu, and I need to sleep it off, and if it's still bad tomorrow I'll go to the pharmacy. I promise. I'll get drugged to the eyeballs on every medication they have. Does that make you feel better?”
“And you'll call me?”
She sighs, as if she's talking to an irritating child. “Yes, Mum. I'll call you!”
“Tonight?”
“Tomorrow!”
“I'd rather -”
“I'll call tomorrow! And now I'm going to bed! Have a nice afternoon, Mum! Bye!”
“What about -”
The call suddenly ends. I immediately click to restart, but this time Katie doesn't pick up. Sighing, I sit back on the sofa and try to figure out how quickly I could get to the train station, before realizing that perhaps I should respect Katie's wishes. After all, she's a capable young woman and I certainly wouldn't want to be bothered if I were in her shoes. I can wait one more day, to see if she gets better, but if she still looks so poorly tomorrow I shall immediately book myself onto a train. Flu is one thing, but I'm worried about those cuts on her chest.
Getting up from the sofa, I head to the kitchen and start opening a bottle of white wine. My hands are trembling a little and I need to calm down.
