“No, I didn’t,” the woman insists. She turns back to you. “What caused it, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Perhaps she doesn’t remember that, either,” her husband suggests.
“Let her answer, Steve,” the woman says sharply.
“Actually, your husband’s right,” you say. “I don’t remember anything about it—”
“But you’re here now!” the woman announces, as though it’s somehow her doing. “You’re back! And with your husband?”
“Honey…” her husband remonstrates, but the woman presses on.
“We signed the petition. Just so you know. He had so much support around here.”
You’re barely listening. It’s just occurred to you that public news of your so-called miraculous return might not fit in with Tim’s plans at all.
“There’s been a mistake. I’m not…” Suddenly the little shop seems terrifyingly claustrophobic. “Excuse me,” you say desperately, trying to push past them to the door.
“She isn’t well!” the woman exclaims. “Steve, call the police.”
“What with?” he says lugubriously. “You dropped my phone in the tub while you were playing Candy Crush.”
“We’re in a phone store!” the woman snaps. “Oh, I’ll do it.” She pulls a cellphone out of her pocket.
“Please, stay here,” she says to you as she dials 911. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“Are you calling the police?” the young man behind the counter says incredulously. He starts taking phones from the shelves and dropping them into a box.
“You’ve got this all wrong,” you insist. “There’s really no need—” But the woman’s already talking to an operator, giving the address, saying they need to send a police car and isn’t it amazing, she’s found her, she’s found Abbie Cullen-Scott.
15
You’re standing there, wondering what to do, when your own phone rings. The caller ID says TIM.
“Where are you?” He sounds worried.
“At a phone repair shop.”
“Why? Is something wrong with your phone?”
Now’s hardly the moment to tell him about the iPad. “It was nothing, it’s sorted now. But some people saw me and they’ve called the police—”
“Don’t talk to the police,” he interrupts. “Do you hear me, Abbie? Get out of there. Go west one block, then take a right onto Bartlett—”
“How do you know it’s a right?” you say as you start walking.
“I can see you on Find My Phone. I got worried when you didn’t answer the house phone just now. Go quickly, will you?”
“Tim, I’m so sorry,” you say miserably. “You said not to go out.”
“Don’t worry about that now. Are you moving?”
“Yes. As fast as I can.” You look over your shoulder. The couple is following you, the woman still on her phone, the man lagging behind, embarrassed. In the distance you hear a siren.
“I think the police are coming,” you add. “What do I tell them?”
Tim sighs. “Tell them the truth. But Abbie—don’t believe everything they tell you, okay? I’ll come and get you.”
“Why? What might they tell me? Tim, what do you mean?”
“It’s complicated—”
“Abbie? Abbie Cullen-Scott?” A uniformed policewoman, short and stocky, absurdly overdressed, with as many bits of equipment hanging off her as a mountaineer, is touching your arm. “Mrs. Cullen-Scott, you need to come with us. We’ll get you looked after.”
FIVE
It was Darren’s turn to get Tim-lashed, and he was getting the whole nine yards.
“I wanted it seamless,” Tim yelled at him. “I wanted it immersive. And instead, you’ve brought me this garbage.”
“It will be seamless,” Darren said nervously. “It’s still under development.”
There was a pause, but only because Tim had taken a breath, as if he was genuinely startled, shocked even, by the idiocy of Darren’s response.
“I know it’s under development. That’s why I hired a developer. Except I didn’t, did I? I hired a third-rate bozo who doesn’t know development from diarrhea.”
“I just don’t think what you’re asking for is possible—” Darren began.
And now it was our turn to draw in our collective breath, because we all saw that Darren had committed a terrible error. The statement he had just made—that he was being asked to do the impossible—never went down well with Tim in any case. Not for nothing did he have a framed quotation by Muhammad Ali on his wall, something to do with the word impossible not being a fact, just someone’s opinion. But more important, what Darren had just said was inconsistent with his own previous statement, that he would fix it in due course. He wasn’t the first to lose his nerve under a Tim-lashing, but we all knew he was about to get ripped apart for it.