Chapter 33
33
RORY
Friday 13th December
Oh boy. Not a good day. I’m glad to get into bed. As her birthday nears, Elena’s becoming more careful again. It seemed as if she’d found a balance, but what with bolting the door and checking the hob again now, and regimentally checking the windows… She jumped up quicker than a frog on speed to clear up a coffee spillage in work this morning. Someone jokingly mentioned today’s jinxed date and she turned whiter than the snow we saw in Scotland. What’s more, it turned out, what with everything going on, she still hadn’t organised the staff’s Christmas activity night out. She disappeared to the toilets for a while when she realised and came back with red eyes.
Over 1 pint, Gary and I put together a night out next Tuesday. We were drinking in the Three Horseshoes and the sign was still up for the Christmas quiz night next week. Our marketing team is made up of 15 people. The landlord said he had two tables left, but would squeeze in another to accommodate us, seeing as we were regular customers. Each quiz team needed 5 people. To be honest – and it galls me to compliment that lad – Gary smashed it as on the way back to work, he stopped at the small bookshop opposite and asked for the latest novel that people were most talking about. He didn’t even read the blurb, but Elena was almost in tears when he handed it over. It had been on her wish list. Gary said he still had the receipt and would take it back if she talked any more nonsense from having let the staff down.
I’m worried about her, having seen what my neighbour, Julian, went through when he got stressed. How his illness grew and grew way out of control, affecting his whole life. Was Elena suffering that badly? Has she got the same, specific problem as him?
No. Surely not. Not Elena. For sure the fortune teller will give her all the answers she needs, and explain away the promise, ending the sense of dread once and for all.
At least, I hope so.
I don’t want Elena to lose her life.
I don’t want to lose Elena.
3 calls to Morag Macbay’s landline number, but it kept ringing out.
240 miles from Cariswell to Leith, just over 4 hours driving; we’re setting off at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Elena insisted we take her car.
2 rooms booked at a B&B.
2 1/2 hours Elena vanished for tonight. She went upstairs as soon as we got home, but wasn’t in her room when I called her for dinner, and I had to go up. I didn’t ask questions when she came down and simply reheated her risotto. She looked much happier and that’s what counts.
For 20 minutes we stared at the new stick insect tank, after Elena had eaten, willing Brandy and Snap to go on the new rope bridge. But I guess they aren’t that sort of pet. Brandy moved a little, from leaf to leaf, but Snap was so still we had to poke her, gently, to check she was okay. We’d set the tank up last night, after getting back from Jimmy’s. It was late but Elena hadn’t been sleeping well and a hot chocolate was enough incentive to help her. On the way home tonight we stopped to cut more bramble leaves. The large tank doesn’t fit with the well-planned-out lounge, but Elena doesn’t care. I… I had to turn away and gather myself when she said that. If anything happened to her next week, I had to promise to keep them in the big tank. Her voice was quite matter of fact.
1 Post-it note left out on the breakfast bar, in the kitchen. Elena had written herself a reminder to check her will was in order. I wanted to screw it up into a tiny ball and throw it away. It was another example of how full of common sense she is. A wave of nausea takes me by surprise every time I think about her birthday, next weekend. My insides are knotted. I’m not sleeping either but I didn’t tell Elena that – this is about her, not me. Even though losing her would tear my heart into 1,000 pieces.