Chapter 38
I feel nervous. My hands are sweating, and I realize I am breaking one of my most British rules – turning up unannounced. I climb out of the car and walk up to the front door. Then I take a breath and press the bell.
It seems an eternity until I hear a buzz and Lori’s voice comes through the door cam. ‘Dan! What a surprise. Hang on. I’ll just come downstairs.’
‘Great!’ I smile in what hopefully looks like a pleasant and non-stalkerish way.
The door opens. ‘Hey!’
Lori is dressed down in gym shorts and a faded pink Levis T-shirt. Her hair is damp and pulled back in a low ponytail. Her feet are bare.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t call first,’ I stutter. ‘But I was in town and, well, I wanted to say thanks for last night and sorry if I was a little off at the end.’
‘Honestly, there’s nothing to apologize for. I had a nice time.’
‘Well, I brought this.’ I hold out the bottle of wine (should have bought a bottle bag, I think). ‘After all, you bought the wine last night.’
‘Thank you.’ She accepts the wine. ‘Probably a little early to open it, but I have coffee?’
She stands back, opening the door wider. I hesitate. It’s just a coffee, but stepping over the threshold feels like something more.
I smile. ‘Thanks.’
Inside, it’s stylish and smart without feeling cold or uninviting.
The living area features an L-shaped beige sofa, leather armchair and a coffee table.
The kitchen is grey and white. A small pair of glass doors leads out to a manicured yard filled with brightly coloured, exotic flowers and a narrow resistance pool at one end.
Lori gestures to the sofa. ‘Take a seat. How d’you like your coffee?’
‘Erm, just black, please.’
‘Coming right up.’
She grabs two cups and switches on a sleek-looking coffee machine. Then she turns back to me.
‘How’s your head?’
‘Okay.’ Which isn’t entirely true. The painkillers I bought on the way here have subdued the headache from earlier, but I can still feel it bubbling away underneath. ‘It’s weird. I never used to get headaches like this.’
She brings two cups of coffee over and places them on the small table. ‘Well, you’ve made a big life change and you had a big shock. That’s all stressful.’
I reach for the coffee. ‘Yeah, and that’s not even the half of it.’
‘Really? Tell me more.’ She sits and curls her feet up underneath her.
I hesitate. ‘I didn’t come here to offload on you.’
‘I’m a good listener.’
I smile. ‘Are you going to bill me?’
‘I’ll always accept wine as payment.’
‘Okay, then—’
The front doorbell rings, cutting me off.
Lori reaches for her phone and frowns. ‘Damn.’
‘Problem?’
She shakes her head. ‘No. Just a client turning up unexpectedly.’ She stands. ‘I’d better go and deal with them. Sorry.’
‘No, it’s fine.’
She walks out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. I sit for a moment, listening. I can make out voices. Lori’s and another female’s. The other female sounds angry, Lori soothing. I can’t really tell what they’re saying.
I sit, feeling awkward. My coffee is too hot to drink. After a moment, I pick it up and wander into the kitchen to add some cold water.
It’s all very modern and functional. Obviously, someone single. No half-full mugs or empty cereal bowls. A fridge unadorned by bad drawings and self-made magnets, although, to be fair, it isn’t entirely bereft of personality.
There are a few cards and reminders stuck to it.
Photographs too. I squint at them. One is a group of people I don’t know.
Maybe friends or work colleagues. There’s a picture of a cute black Labrador pup (I remember Lori saying she used to have a dog).
Another shows Lori relaxing on the deck of the Serenity Falls Hotel.
She looks different, I think. The clothing is a little more tailored.
And her hair is light blonde. She looks a lot less like Nat with blonde hair. My gaze moves to the final photo.
It’s a picture of a young girl, maybe five or six. Blonde hair in bunches, freckles. She’s wearing a party dress and beaming happily into the camera. An older man crouches down beside her, smiling a warm, grandfatherly smile. He looks very familiar.
I slip the photo out from under the magnet and flip it over. Written in a childish scrawl on the back:
Uncle Harry and me.
Uncle Harry? Lori never mentioned she was related to Harold Winsom. I stare at the writing … and then jump at a crash from the hall. I shove the picture back on the fridge, hurry across the room and pull open the door.
Lori is standing, hands raised in a placatory gesture to a blonde woman standing opposite. A vase is smashed on the floor.
‘If you just calm—’
‘Calm? Fuck you. She trusted you, and now …’ The blonde woman breaks off. She stares at me.
‘Dan?’
I stare back at Hailey. Her hair is tangled over her shoulders. She looks like she’s been crying.
‘What are … are you okay?’ I ask.
Lori half turns. ‘Everything is under control.’
‘Under control?’ Hailey sneers. ‘Because that’s what you like, isn’t it? Everyone behaving just like fucking robots. And those that don’t, you have taken away.’
‘That’s not what happened. Your aunt is ill. She’s a danger to herself.’
‘Because she handed out some stupid leaflets?’
‘Hailey—’
‘You were supposed to be helping Aunt May, and you let them take her.’
‘That’s not how it works,’ Lori says. ‘The doctors asked me for my opinion, and—’
‘Save it,’ Hailey spits. She looks at me. ‘You want some advice? Get out of here. Run away while you can. Don’t let her pull you in. She lies. They all do.’ She turns on her heel and strides out of the door.
‘Where are you going?’ Lori calls.
‘The hospital. To break her out.’
Lori looks at me apologetically. ‘I’m so sorry.’
I stand, feeling a little shell-shocked. ‘Is it true? About her aunt?’
Lori shakes her head. ‘No. I mean, yes, she has been taken to hospital. The doctors want her to go into residential care. I was seeing May as a patient. Therapy can help people with dementia. But to be honest, May’s been suffering from mental health problems for a long time.
’ Lori offers a weak smile. ‘It’s sad, but we have to think about what’s best for May and the wider community. ’
‘I see,’ I say, but I don’t. Not really. I can’t imagine that the woman I saw at Hailey’s home could really be a danger. An embarrassment, maybe, but not a danger. But then, I’m not a mental health expert. Just ask my wife.
Lori sighs. ‘I should probably call the hospital. Let them know Hailey’s on the warpath. Maybe we could take a raincheck on the coffee?’
‘Of course. No problem.’
I exit the house and climb back into the SUV. I pull out of the parking space, but I don’t head for home. I turn in the opposite direction. After Hailey.