The Watchful Neighbour - Debbie Viggiano Page 0,18

here. He has a key. For emergencies, he says. I mean, reason tells me that he wouldn’t presume to do such a thing. Not without a valid excuse. But, on the other hand, my gut feeling tells me otherwise. And that’s the trouble, you see. I don’t know whether to trust my gut feeling. My counsellor would tell me I’m not being intuitive. Rather, paranoid.’

Jade set the bowl down on the floor.

‘Enjoy. I’d better get a wiggle on. Unlike you, I have to go to work.’

Draining her coffee, she left Puddles tucking in and went upstairs to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, Jade emerged from the shower in a better frame of mind. She was back to convincing herself that last week’s episode with the cat flap had been down to a brief malfunction. There was no other explanation. End of subject.

Folding the wet towel neatly over the heated rail, she moved back into her bedroom and opened the wardrobe. What to wear for the working day?

Pulling out her favourite dress and setting it to one side, Jade then went to the bedside drawers and selected some fresh underwear.

It was only as she was slipping the dress over her head, and shrouded in polyester, that she froze. Her senses were being invaded by a smell that was both familiar and strange. A part of her rushed to embrace the scent, while another bit of her recoiled.

Suddenly her fingers were clawing at the garment. Jade fought a sensation of being suffocated and, trying not to panic, wrestled her way to freedom before throwing the dress on the floor.

For a few seconds she stood there, trembling. Her eyes locked on the crumpled garment. Scooping it up, she buried her nose in the fabric.

Aftershave. Tom’s aftershave.

A rush of memories invaded her mind, so real that Jade wanted to tear at the seams of the dress, as if it were no more than a veil between the present moment and the past. She closed her eyes and mentally stepped back in time.

There was Tom. Naked. Fresh from her shower. Drying off. Now splashing on his signature aftershave. Jade was getting the scent on her own skin as she wrapped bare arms around him.

‘I love that smell,’ she’d said, inhaling deeply.

‘So do I,’ Tom had laughed. ‘That’s why I wear it.’

He’d bought her the brand’s female counterpart. The bottle was on her dressing table. But what she was currently smelling was the masculine version. Wasn’t it? She inhaled deeply, but the scent was starting to elude her. Her senses were adjusting, and the fragrance was receding.

She pulled some other garments from the wardrobe, sniffing randomly. But all she could now detect was her own lingering brand of perfume.

Jade let the dress slither over her head once again and this time she couldn’t be sure if she could smell Tom’s aftershave or not. For a moment it seemed to float, like a whisper, in the air. And then it was gone. She must have imagined it. Jade burst into tears.

What was happening to her?

Chapter Eleven

Another week passed during which time Jade managed to avoid Dee Parker. However, she wasn’t quite so successful with Brad Grimshaw.

It seemed that the moment Jade stepped outside her front door to go to work, this guy was doing the same thing. And then, at the end of the day, just as Jade was arriving home, so was Brad.

This evening had been a joke, but not of the funny kind. Only one parking space had been available in Gresham Terrace. Jade had advanced from one direction, just as Brad had approached from the other. They’d both braked and indicated at the same time. Realising it was Jade sitting in the car opposite him, he’d smiled and made an after-you-ladies-first gesture with one hand, before reversing his vehicle away. Seconds later, he’d disappeared, no doubt to seek out an available gap in one of the many side streets that ran parallel to Gresham Terrace.

Jade had gratefully accepted the parking spot but spent several minutes getting into a muck sweat as she’d shoe-horned her vehicle into the narrow space. By the time she’d finished parking Brad had reappeared, this time on foot and sauntering along the pavement. Before he could get any closer, Jade had leapt out of her vehicle and scuttled into the sanctuary of Number 3, heart pounding.

She’d instantly imagined her therapist talking to her.

The reality is, Jade, that if people make conversation with you, it’s because they are being polite. Sociable. It’s