The Apartment - K. L. Slater Page 0,60

that Skye has perked up at last and I’ll have a few minutes to settle my thoughts down.

‘I’ll bring her back upstairs when we’re finished,’ Miss Brockley says, and the two of them walk out of the entrance together and head for the garden.

I get into the apartment and pour two glasses of orange juice, one for Skye when she returns. I drink it standing at the window, looking down on my daughter, who is chatting Miss Brockley’s ears off by the looks of it.

I’ve detected a bit of frostiness from other people here towards Lily on a couple of occasions now.

Lily told me she hasn’t got grandchildren, and Skye is bound to get a bit lonely at times as an only child moving into a new area. So theirs is an unlikely friendship that works well for both of them, I think.

I smile as I watch them and then my attention switches to something else. There’s a very faint buzzing noise that’s quite irritating.

I look up, but the top windows that I usually open in the morning are closed now, so it isn’t coming from outside.

I take another sip of juice and listen. The noise is barely there, but now that I’ve heard it, I can’t ignore it and it’s annoying me.

I look around the room but there’s nothing obvious here, unless Skye has left something turned on and it’s pushed down the side of a seat cushion.

I walk across the room and stand in the doorway, and here, the noise is definitely louder, although you could easily not notice it if the television was on.

A few steps back towards the middle of the hallway, it’s louder still. I open the door to Skye’s bedroom and instantly recoil at the sight of the window, buzzing with what seems like a million flies. The room is full of them.

I scream and jump back outside the room, slamming the door behind me and running into the lounge. I’ve never been flaky about much in my life, but ever since learning at school all about the disgusting habits of the housefly – Musca domestica – I’ve hated being near the vile creatures.

And there’s something else, too. The furniture has been moved. Her toy box and the pink wooden chair under the window . . . they’re at the opposite end of the room.

I bang on the window, but Skye and Miss Brockley don’t look up.

My heart is pounding on my chest wall and I feel as if I’m going to be sick, but I dash out of the apartment, not bothering to lock the door. I hurtle down the stairs and hammer on Dr Marsden’s apartment door, stooped over, trying to get my breath back.

There’s no answer, so I burst out of the front door, leaving it wide open and run around to the garden, calling for help.

‘Heavens, whatever’s wrong, Freya?’ Lilian Brockley clutches at her throat, startled.

‘Flies . . . millions of flies . . . in Skye’s room,’ I manage.

‘In my room?’ Skye looks alarmed.

‘Come on, we’d better have a look.’ Lily leads the way, striding back down the side of the house and in through the front door where Dr Marsden suddenly appears.

‘Does anyone know who has left this door wide open?’ His voice thunders.

Skye flutters around me like a distressed butterfly.

‘Sorry . . . it was me. There are flies . . . upstairs . . .’ I start coughing, my throat is so hoarse and dry and I feel as if I might be sick. I haven’t got a phobia exactly, but if there’s one insect I can’t bear near me, it’s flies.

‘Apparently there are hordes of them, in the child’s room,’ I hear Miss Brockley say.

‘I’ll go up there with you now,’ Dr Marsden tells me calmly. ‘This sort of thing is easily dealt with.’ He looks pointedly at Miss Brockley. ‘I’ll take it from here, Lilian.’ But Lily doesn’t move, she stands there almost protectively.

‘You haven’t seen them,’ I say, my voice still slightly manic. ‘I’ve never seen so many. Where can they have all come from?’

‘Were there any on my toys . . . and my bed, Mummy?’ Skye looks close to tears and I regret blurting everything out in front of her.

‘Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll sort it out,’ I say hastily before remembering something else and stepping towards Dr Marsden. ‘And the furniture’s been moved in there!’

He glances at me, his lips pressed into a tight line. He doesn’t comment.

We’re all huffing and