The Apartment - K. L. Slater Page 0,58

bank confirming my change of address to Adder House.

I pick up the second letter and see that in my haste to get out of the house this morning, I neglected to notice that although the letter is addressed to apartment six, the name is a Miss Sophie Taylor.

It feels wrong opening a letter addressed to someone else, but Dr Marsden categorically said there had been nobody else in the flat before us. Could it be just a circular?

Sophie Taylor.

I whisper the name out loud to myself. Roll it around on my tongue. She sounds like a real person, if that makes sense.

A knot of discomfort sits on my chest as a thought looms large in my head.

The woman who died that the Marsdens don’t want to talk about . . . could I have stumbled here on to something that would provide a bit more information?

I could write ‘not at this address’ on the mail and pop it back in the postbox, but I decide against that.

Right or wrong, I make a snap decision and open the letter.

Dear Ms Taylor,

It will soon be twelve months since you and your daughter, Melissa Taylor, had your eye tests. We are pleased to offer you another appointment at your convenience, please telephone . . .

The rest of the optician’s letter blurs out as I try my hardest to convince myself it’s a mistake, but my gut feeling is that Sophie and Melissa Taylor were tenants in apartment six after all.

This leads to another fundamental question that makes my head spin. Why would Dr Marsden lie about something like that?

34

It’s a ten-minute brisk walk from the café back to Adder House. I don’t look over at Kensington Gardens, nor pause to listen to the birdsong when I turn into Palace Gate.

I zap my key card at the door and enter the house, silently praying Dr Marsden isn’t lurking around to ask me inane questions about where I’ve been this morning. I just feel like I need a bit of quiet thinking time.

My prayers are answered. The entrance is empty and I’m able to head straight upstairs.

I stop outside the door next to our apartment and press down on the handle. Of course it’s locked.

It’s time to ask Dr Marsden why this apartment is vacant and who were the last people to live there.

Once inside, I shrug off my coat, slip off my shoes, and sit down on the sofa. I reach inside my handbag, pull out the letter to Sophie Taylor and read it again. Then I start to formulate a plan of things I need to do.

A few minutes in the calm, quiet atmosphere, and I feel the tension finally begin to seep out of my body.

A few minutes later, though, I’m roused by the sound of someone walking around.

Not above me, because we’re on the top floor. Not below me, either. Oddly, it sounds like it’s coming from the other side of the wall.

I jump up and press my ear against the wall that adjoins the empty apartment next door. At first there’s nothing, then I hear the soft thud of footsteps again.

I creep down the hallway and out of my apartment door, listening to the house in general, but the landing is deathly quiet. I tiptoe next door and try the handle again. It’s still locked.

When I press my ear to the door, there’s nothing to hear. A crazy thought occurs to me. Could someone be secretly living in there?

I decide to go downstairs to see Lily Brockley. She’s made it clear we are always welcome, so I’ll see if she has time for a chat and a cuppa.

She’s already said she’s not sure what’s happening to the apartment next to ours, but perhaps I can bring Sophie Taylor’s name into the conversation and see if I get a reaction.

But I’m disappointed. There’s no answer from Lily’s flat.

I go back upstairs and busy myself unpacking a couple more boxes. There are no more sounds from next door.

I have to be back at school at one o’clock to pick up Skye, so I nibble at the Waitrose goodies in the fridge and scoff a chunk of freshly baked bread and cheese.

I’m hit by a wave of lethargy where I literally can’t keep my eyes open. I lie back on the couch to rest my eyes for a few minutes.

At the sound of the shrill ring of my phone on the floor next to me, I spring awake and sit bolt upright, my