dark it was in the kitchen and started opening the blinds without asking me. I was about to stop her, but when I looked outside, no one was on the street. The man had gone.
I don’t know why I told Barbie about it. I don’t like her or trust her—but I was scared, I suppose, and I needed someone to talk to, and she happened to be there. We had a drink, which was unlike me, and I burst into tears. Barbie stared at me wide-eyed, silent for once. After I finished, she put down her bottle of wine and said, “This calls for something stronger.” She poured us a couple of whiskeys.
“Here.” She gave it to me. “You need this.”
She was right—I needed it. I knocked it back and felt a kick from it. Now it was my turn to listen, while Barbie talked. She didn’t want to scare me, she said, but it didn’t sound good. “I’ve seen this on like a million TV shows. He’s studying your house, okay? Before he makes his move.”
“You think he’s a burglar?”
Barbie shrugged. “Or a rapist. Does that matter? It’s bad news, whatever it is.”
I laughed. I felt relieved and grateful that someone was taking me seriously—even if it was just Barbie. I showed her the photo on my phone, but she wasn’t impressed.
“Text it to me so I can look at it with my glasses on. It looks like a blurry smudge to me. Tell me. Have you mentioned this to your husband yet?”
I decided to lie. “No. Not yet.”
Barbie gave me a funny look. “Why not?”
“I don’t know, I suppose I worry Gabriel might think I’m exaggerating—or imagining it.”
“Are you imagining it?”
“No.”
Barbie looked pleased. “If Gabriel doesn’t take you seriously, we’ll go to the police together. You and me. I can be very persuasive, believe me.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“It’s already necessary. Take this seriously, honey. Promise me you’ll tell Gabriel when he gets home?”
I nodded. But I had already decided not to say anything further to Gabriel. There was nothing to tell. I have no proof the man was following me or watching me. Barbie was right, the photo proves nothing.
It was all in my imagination—that’s what Gabriel will say. Best not to say anything to him at all and risk upsetting him again. I don’t want to bother him.
I’m going to forget all about it.
4:00 A.M.
It’s been a bad night.
Gabriel came home, exhausted, at about ten. He’d had a long day and wanted to go to bed early. I tried to sleep too, but I couldn’t.
Then a couple of hours ago, I heard a noise. It was coming from the garden. I got up and went to the back window. I looked out—I couldn’t see anyone, but I felt someone’s eyes on me. Someone was watching me from the shadows.
I managed to pull myself away from the window and ran to the bedroom. I shook Gabriel awake.
“The man is outside,” I said, “he’s outside the house.”
Gabriel didn’t know what I was talking about. When he understood, he started to get angry. “For Christ’s sake. Give it a rest. I’ve got to be at work in three hours. I don’t want to play this fucking game.”
“It’s not a game. Come and look. Please.”
So we went to the window—
And of course, the man wasn’t there. There was no one there.
I wanted Gabriel to go outside, to check, but he wouldn’t. He went back upstairs, annoyed. I tried reasoning with him, but he said he wasn’t talking to me and went to sleep in the spare room.
I didn’t go back to bed. I’ve been sitting here since then, waiting, listening, alert to any sound, checking the windows. No sign of him so far.
Only a couple more hours to go. It will be light soon.
AUGUST 15
Gabriel came downstairs ready to go to the shoot. When he saw me by the window and realized I’d been up all night, he went quiet and started acting strange.
“Alicia, sit down. We need to talk.”
“Yes. We do need to talk. About the fact that you don’t believe me.”
“I believe that you believe it.”
“That’s not the same thing. I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“I never said you were an idiot.”
“Then what are you saying?”
I thought we were about to get into a fight, so I was taken aback by what Gabriel said. He spoke in a whisper. I could barely hear him. He said: