What to do? What to do?
If only I could ask the other members of this group. Someone must remember something. Maybe they can help me? But how do I broach the subject, without raising suspicion or looking like a complete weirdo? I click my fingers. What if…What if I pretend to be organising a staff reunion for Camp Windylake? I could ask the other members of the group to send me names and contact details of all the play leaders who worked there. Someone’s bound to remember this girl, surely?
Seized with inspiration, I start typing. I am deliberately vague about exactly when and where the reunion will be. The only person I don’t invite is Kate. Luckily, she doesn’t really use her Facebook account, so she won’t have seen this group, and I want to keep it that way. I can’t risk this getting back to Alicia. I just hope I get some responses. And fast. Because who knows what she and her evil double have in store for me next.
My message sent, I wait anxiously for a reply. After a few minutes, I hit refresh, but there are no responses. Full of impatience, I drum my fingers on the table top and refresh again.
It’s like watching a kettle boil.
In an effort to distract myself, I google FRY, and get an array of confounding hits, from the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, to a group offering tax and financial aid, none of which bring me any closer to the truth. I flit back to Facebook, but there are still no responses. I drum my fingers on the table top.
Now what?
I’m quite hungry, actually, pipes up a little voice inside my head.
I glance at the table, where I had some fruit, but the peaches and plums have turned sour in the bowl. Maybe I should nip down the chippy and get myself some dinner? Someone might have responded by the time I get back.
The chip shop is only a fifteen minute walk from my house, but I’m too creeped out to walk, so I take the car and drive into the centre of Queensbeach. I hadn’t expected there to be so many people out, talking and laughing in loud, booming voices, enjoying themselves as if nothing has happened. I see girls dressed up in…well, not very much, considering it’s winter, shivering in the queue for the nightclub. But it’s just another ordinary night for them, I suppose.
“One portion of fish and chips please,” I tell the man at the fish bar. “No mushy peas.”
I hand over my money and sit down to wait, my tummy growling at the smell of the hot chips frying. Idly, I pick up a copy of the local gazette someone’s left lying around. Thumbing through it, I notice an article on the recent spate of fires in the area, including the one at the caravan park. There have been blazes at several businesses around the town over the last few weeks. Apparently, the police are following up a number of leads, whatever that means. I bet they have no idea.
I am so engrossed in the article that I barely register the presence of another customer walking up to the counter.
“Four portions of fish and chips, please.”
It’s Deacon.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as he takes out his wallet and pays with crisp, new notes. He hasn’t clocked me yet, and I’m not sure I want him to. We haven’t spoken since the night he introduced me to Jim. The night I overheard him saying those awful things about me. So I keep my head ducked down low, try not to listen as he discusses football with the owner.
“Fish and chips, no mushy peas,” the server calls out when my order is ready.
Deacon whirls round.
“Isabel? How long have you been sitting there?”
“A little while.”
“Great minds think alike, hey? Why don’t you come back to the Beach House and eat with us?”
His face is kind and earnest, but I can’t forgive him. Can’t ever forget those terrible things he said.
“No thanks.”
I reach over him for my parcel of chips, try not to notice the hurt and confusion in his eyes. See, the thing is, I’m not sure we can be friends anymore. I’m not sure we can be anything.
*
I check the computer as soon as I get in, but still no responses. I’m going to have to be patient. Maybe someone will post something in the morning. I pick at my chips while I try to figure out my next move. Absent-mindedly, I break off a piece of fish and hold it out for Fluffy, but of course, he’s not there to take it.
What am I going to do, Fluffy?
I could confront Alicia about her doppelganger. But, damning as it seems, I have a feeling she’d be able to talk her way out of it like she has everything else. And I can’t afford not to be believed. Not again. No, I need to keep this quiet. Do some digging.
What I need is help, professional help and not the kind Deacon’s friend Jim was offering. Like it or not, I’m going to have to ask Holly – again. The trouble is, how can I get her to take my call? I’ve been hassling her so much lately that the only conversation I’m likely to have with her now is with her answering machine – or Julio. But I really need her, more than ever. There must be some way.
*
Mr Krinkle is outside, watering his plants as I set off the next morning.
“Hello, Isabel,” he says, eyeing my overnight bag, nosily. “Going away for the weekend?”
“Just visiting my brother.”
“That’s nice. Do you want me to water your plants while you’re away?”
“Oh no, I won’t be gone that long. But thanks for the offer.”
He looks disappointed. I bet he would just love to have a snoop around my house, tell Mrs Norris at number nineteen about all the washing-up left in the sink.
“There is something you could do for me though.”
“Yes?”
“Well…” I hesitate – is this really a good idea? “I did read something in the paper about there being a rise in burglaries in this area.”
“Really?” A look of concern etches itself onto his face.
I’m a terrible person, worrying an old man like this.
“Yeah, and I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind keeping a bit of an eye on my house while I’m away? I wouldn’t want to come back to find an intruder.”
“Yes, of course,” he says, nodding solemnly. “I’ll mention it to Mrs Norris opposite. I’m sure we can keep a look out between the two of us.”
“That’s really good of you, thanks.”
I start to back towards my car before he can ask me any more about the burglaries. I don’t feel good lying to him, but what is the world coming to if you can’t harness the power of nosy parkers for your own good?
I really hope they’re in, I think nervously as I approach Julio and Holly’s road a few hours later. A sensible person probably would have rung ahead to check, but I’m just going to have to take my chances. If I had told them I was coming, I’m fairly certain they would have tried to put me off. As it is, I’m just hoping they won’t have the heart to turn me away. Not when I’ve driven all this way.
To my relief, there’s a dismembered old Beetle blocking their driveway. And where there’s a beaten up old car, you can usually find Julio. There he is, sure enough, delving around in the engine.
“Julio?”
“Izzy!” he looks up sharply, nearly banging his head on the bonnet.
“I’m really sorry to bother you, but I’ve found out something important and I need to talk to Holly.”
Julio frowns. “Well, it will have to wait until she gets home from work.”
He produces a cloth from his pocket and wipes his greasy hands.
“Oh,” I say, unable to hide my disappointment. “Well, I suppose I could wait in the car.”
He takes in the state of me - the lack of make-up, the unkempt hair, the dark rings around my eyes and seems to relent.
“Don’t be silly. Come on inside. I’m due for a tea break, anyway.”
“I don’t even remember her,” I babble, as I finish telling him about the girl in the picture. “So why in the world has she got it in for me?”
“Are you sure it’s not just Alicia winding you up again?”
&nb
sp; “What do you mean?”
“I mean, how do you know the picture’s genuine? It could have been photoshopped.”
“It looks real enough.”
“Show me.”
I pull up the picture on my phone. “Here.”
He stares at it for a moment, a strange expression forming on his face.
“What? Is it real or do you think it’s been messed with?”
“Yeah it’s real,” he says, his face a little pale now. “And, I think…no, I’m sure… I used to go out with that girl.”
Chapter Seventeen
“But you didn’t even go to Camp Windylake!”
“No, but I came to visit you often enough, didn’t I?”
“So this is all about you?”
I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Julio has gone out with most of the women I know at one time or another. Why should this girl be any different?
“Oh, what was her name? Josie. No, Jody!”
“Jody,” I repeat. “You’re sure?”
“I think so.”
“Do you recall a last name?”
“Erm…”
“Could it be McBride?”
It’s a stab in the dark. I mean, I don’t even know if that’s really Alicia’s last name, but a flicker of recognition appears on Julio’s face.
“Could be. Definitely Mc something or rather.”
“Honey, I’m home!” Holly calls out, as she walks through the door. Then she sees me.
“Oh, hello Isabel.” She shoots Julio a worried look. I can’t really blame her, after all those endless phone calls.
Quickly, we fill her in on what we’ve just discovered.
“Did you break up with her?” Holly asks him.
“Of course he did,” I snort. As far as I know, Julio’s never been dumped in his life, more’s the pity. And even those girls who know of his reputation don’t seem to be put off by it. Kate was adamant that she was going to be the one to change him, just as Holly is now.
“But do you remember why?” I press. “Was there another girl?”
Julio frowns. “It was a long time ago. I really can’t remember.”
“Do you remember anything about her at all?” I ask. “I mean, what was she like?”
“I don’t know. Kind of…quiet. And serious.”
“What I can’t understand is why she’s going after Isabel,” Holly says. “Why not you? And why now?”
“Search me.”
“We are in the phonebook, after all. You wouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“She is crazy,” I point out. “At least, if she’s anything like Alicia, she is.”
But Holly isn’t satisfied.
“Wait a minute - Julio did you…two-time this girl?”
“What?”
“Oh, don’t look so shocked. “I know what you were like.”
She turns to me. “The question is, if he did two-time her, did you know about it?”
Julio and I look at each other helplessly.
“I honestly can’t remember.”
“Me neither.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’ve both got memories like sieves! Well, let’s say that’s what happened. Julio cheated on her and Isabel knew about it. That will have to be our working assumption for the time being, unless anyone can come up with a better one.”
“It still doesn’t make sense,” Julio says. “Why would she even care about some bloke who dumped her ten years ago?”
Holly says nothing. She doesn’t have to. I know what effect Julio has on women. I’ve seen it too many times before.
“What if she never got over it? What if she hasn’t had another boyfriend since?”
“Oh come on,” Julio laughs. “Give me a break!”
But I’m not so sure and by the looks of it, nor is Holly.
“Do you think we should go to the police?”
“And tell them what exactly? They’d think we were nuts.”
“Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot lately.” I sigh. “So what should I do in the meantime?”
“Act as if everything’s normal,” Holly says, decisively. “Surround yourself with people. And don’t take the same route to and from work every day. You need to vary your routine. Swap things around a bit. Make some last minute changes. Make it hard for them to figure out where you’re going to be and what you’re going to do next.”
I nod. I don’t tell them that I’ve been off work for the last couple of weeks. I’m too embarrassed to admit how much Alicia and Jody have got to me.
“Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can find out about this Jody person.”
She eyes my bulging bag, sitting by the door.
“Are you staying the night, Isabel? I can make up the spare room.”
“No thanks,” I say, getting to my feet.
“I’ve got work in the morning.”
Now I’ve got them on side again, I don’t feel quite so hopeless. It’s time to take control of my life and it’s definitely time I went back to my job. If I still have one, that is. I mean – Sonya’s been understanding and all, but there’s only so far you can push it. Especially as I haven’t even bothered to return her phone calls for the last few days.
I drive home, ready and alert for Jody’s white Escort to appear in the rear mirror, but to my relief, it doesn’t. Once home, I set my alarm for 6.00AM and get an early night.
*
Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I march into Robertson’s the next day, ignoring the nosey looks of the checkout girls. Everybody knows about my meltdown. Alicia’s taken care of that.
Sonya is in the office, swearing at the computer.
I knock gently. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, thank heaven! See if you can fix this. I don’t know what the hell I’ve pressed, but it’s coming out sideways!”
“Let me see,” I lean over her shoulder and correct the error with a few strokes of the keys.
“Thanks – ruddy thing’s out to get me.”
“Bastard. Yeah, it’s got a mind of its own.”
“So you’re back?” she asks, seriously.
“Yes.” I meet her gaze.
“You’re sure? Because I can’t really afford to be left in the lurch again. In fact, Human Resources have just sent over a pile of CVs from people who would love to interview for your job.” She drops her gaze. “But you know I’d much rather have you.”
I bite my lip. “I really am sorry, Sonya. I won’t let it happen again.”
“Well, OK then, just as long as I can rely on you from now on.”
“You can. I promise.”
We spend the rest of the morning working through the backlog in the office, which suits me fine, as it means I don’t have to face the gossips on the shop floor. And more importantly, I don’t have to face Alicia.
“Are you coming down to the canteen?” I ask Sonya, as twelve o’clock rolls around.
“Um, not today,” she says, a flush of colour creeping into her cheeks.
I look at her closely. “Why? What’s going on?”
“I’ve, er…I’ve met someone. His name’s Michael and he’s taking me out for lunch.”
“Wow,” I say, a little blown away. Sonya’s been single for as long as I can remember, longer than me, in fact. “How did you meet?”
“I ordered him over the phone,” she says, with a giggle.
“You what?”
“Actually, it was just a pizza I ordered, but I got a bit more than I bargained for. The delivery man was gorgeous!”
“Well, I’m really pleased for you,” I say, as sincerely as I can manage. If I had the energy to worry about such things, I would probably feel just a teensy bit envious. I mean, I want her to be happy – of course I do. It’s just…seeing her radiant, smiling face reminds me of my own non-existent love life.
Holly rings me later.
“I just wanted to give you an update on Jody.”
“What have you found out?”
“Wel
l, she doesn’t have a police record, but she did spend time on a psychiatric ward when she was younger.”
“Really?” My heart jolts. “What for? Pyromania?”
“Haven’t been able to get that info, but she definitely had a drug and alcohol problem in the past.”
“Anything else?”
“I’m still trying to get her current address but she was last seen in Sandford Dunes.”
“Sandford Dunes? That’s not far from me.”
“Which makes it all the more plausible that she’s involved in all this.”
When I log into Facebook, there are developments there too. Someone has replied to my suggestion for a reunion. Soon the wall is buzzing with replies, some from people I vaguely remember, others, I haven’t a clue about, but still no mention of Jody. I only thought of a reunion as a way of getting people to send me information about her, but the idea seems to have sprouted legs. Almost without me having to do anything, a venue is agreed and a date set. I just hope somebody will be able to tell me something about Jody.
In the meantime, I do as Holly advises. I accept invitations, I go out and while I’m about it, I manage to have a little fun. I make sure I’m home as little as possible, staying at Kate’s a few times, even at Sonya’s once, after a few too many glasses of wine. My friends all heave a collective sigh of relief, assuming I’ve recovered from my little meltdown. But I don’t go over to the Beach House anymore, and I tinker with the roster at Robertson’s so that Alicia and I are scheduled to work together as little as possible. Avoiding her is the only way I can keep sane.
But if I thought for one minute that Alicia would just give up and leave me alone, I was very much mistaken. One evening, as I am sitting in front of the TV, I hear something scratching at the door.
“Fluffy!” I cry, rushing to the door. “Fluffy, is that you?”
I throw back the bolts and open the door.
“Fluffy?”
But there’s no one there. I grab my phone from my pocket and use it to shine a light around the garden.
“Fluffy!” I call, a little louder now. “Are you there?”
Fry Page 14
