Upstairs, she showered and dressed in black jeans, a charcoal sweatshirt, and pink flip-flops. Before getting on with the unpacking she would take the keys along to the police station.
Except, where was the nearest police station? And if the girl came home and found herself unable to get in, wouldn’t it be quicker and easier for her to pick the keys up from here?
Ellie wrote a note, searched and failed to find any tape, and ended up using the next best thing. Heading once more across the road, she unpeeled the backing off the Band-Aid and stuck the note securely to the doorbell.
Pleased with her own ingenuity, she then returned to her flat.
At two o’clock, Paula called from work to see how she was getting on.
At three, Ellie stopped for a Krispy Kreme doughnut and a packet of crisps.
By three thirty she had a collection of cardboard boxes, emptied and collapsed and ready to go out for recycling.
Twenty minutes later, in the middle of a complicated battle to get the cover on her duvet, the doorbell rang. Struggling backwards on her knees out of the duvet cover, Ellie prepared a cheery smile and went to answer it. Time to meet the girl from over the road and be welcomed to Primrose Hill. Plus, of course, she’d explain all about her encounter with the would-be burglar and how she’d seen him off—
‘Hi, you’ve got my keys?’ The voice over the intercom was breathless.
‘Oh, hello. Yes, I have! Hang on, I’ll just press the buzzer and you can come on up. You’ll have to excuse the mess, I only moved in yesterday so it’s—’
‘Look, sorry, but I’m in a real rush, could you just chuck them down?’
Oh. Oh. Put out, Ellie took her finger off the buzzer and went over to the living-room sash window. Pushing up the lower half, she leaned out and saw the girl with the cropped white-blond hair waiting impatiently on the pavement. The moment she spotted Ellie, she held out her arms and yelled, ‘I’ll catch them. Quick!’
The keys were on the coffee table, held together by a multicolored Swarovski crystal key ring. Ellie did as she was told and threw them down to the girl, who promptly missed and let out a shriek as they scooted into the road, inches from the drain.
When she’d retrieved them, she raised a hand in acknowledgment and called out, ‘Cheers, you’re a star,’ before hurrying past the waiting taxi and letting herself into the house.
Never mind thank you.
Oh well.
Ellie exhaled and went back to the bedroom to resume her fight with the duvet. Five minutes later the phone rang in the living room. As she answered it, she saw the blonde girl emerge from her house once more, now wearing a bright red dress and matching spiky stilettos.
‘How are you doing?’ It was Tony, calling from LA.
‘Great.’
‘Natives friendly?’
‘I don’t know.’ Ellie watched the girl dive into the taxi without so much as a glance up at her window. ‘I haven’t met any yet.’
That evening the emptiness closed in and even a visit from Jamie didn’t help.
‘You’ve hardly eaten all day,’ he pointed out in that maddening way of his. ‘Come on, cheer up. Make some pasta or something.’
She looked at him. ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’
‘I’m not telling. I’m making a helpful suggestion. You could do that sauce I used to like.’
Ellie’s stomach rumbled. He was nagging her, but he had a point. She made the tomato and red wine sauce, stirred in fried onions and garlic, and left it to simmer on the hob. God, there was nothing to watch on television. She felt herself weakening, her eyes drifting over to the box of DVDs pushed up against the wall.
‘Don’t do it,’ said Jamie, effortlessly reading her mind. Of course he could read her mind; he was in it.
‘Why not?’
‘It always makes you cry.’
‘And?’
He looked at her, shook his head. ‘I hate it when you cry.’
‘Oh well, too bad.’ Ellie sorted through the DVDs, found the one she wanted. ‘Sometimes I just want to. You don’t have to watch.’
Jamie shrugged and left. She bent down and slid the disc into the DVD player.
Was this cathartic or a form of self-torture? Putting the box of tissues within easy reach, she pressed Play and sat back to watch Jamie and herself on the beach in Cornwall two years ago. Not imaginary Jamie, real Jamie, actually on the TV screen, captured by Todd with his camcorder as they’d