Matt stood in the doorway, looking at me. I tried to smile but my face didn't seem to be working properly. He stood looking, for at least three minutes, until I began to feel like something under a microscope, not a bug, nothing so substantial.

"Are you ill?" he said eventually.

I turned my head to him in enquiry. I winced as I did it - my neck felt stiff. “Yes,” I said. It was easier than telling the truth.

“You must be,” he said. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot what?” I said. My tongue felt too big for my mouth and it was hard to form the words.

He was hanging onto the door frame so hard his knuckles were white. “Our celebration,” he said. “I’ve been calling you and texting you. Why didn’t you pick up? Have you even checked your phone?”

I blinked slowly. “No,” I said.

He breathed in through his nose. Slowly he let go of the doorframe and straightened up. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “I didn’t get the job.”

“What?” I said. “You’ve got a job. What job?”

“The promotion, Maudie,” he said, in a thin voice. “The permanent role. They didn’t offer it to me. Cutbacks, they said. No more money for permanent lecturers. That’s what they said.”

I processed this. “Oh dear,” Part of me wanted to get up and go and give him a hug but I couldn’t seem to make myself move.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” said Matt.

Under the duvet, I dug my fingernails into my leg. I needed the flash of pain to clarify things.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” I said. “What a shame. But it’s not like you need to work, really, do you? Why not give it up for a while? We don’t need the money.” I tried to laugh but my throat was too dry and it came out as a croak. “Be a man of leisure for a change.”

He said nothing for a moment. Then he wheeled about and moved away from the doorway. A second later, I heard the study door slam.

I turned my face back into the sofa, hiding my face from the light. Behind my eyelids, I could see a half-open door, with darkness behind it.

Chapter Thirty

The calls began again the next day. Luckily, Matt was in the shower when the phone rang the first time. I picked up the receiver and dropped it back immediately. Three seconds later, it rang again and I did the same thing. Quickly I bent down and yanked out the plug. There. Silenced. I quickly walked to the bedroom and did the same thing to the phone kept there.

For a moment, I felt safe. The doors were bolted and she couldn't get me through the phone. I sat on the edge of the bed, twisting my hands together. At some point, I'd have to leave the flat. Would she be there? Would she follow me?

Matt came into the room while I was still sat on the bed. He was naked except for a towel around his waist. He plucked a shirt from the wardrobe and threw it on the bed next to me. It was as if I wasn’t there. For a moment, I thought of asking him if he was angry with me and then dismissed it almost instantly.

Matt reached for the telephone by the side of the bed. I watched in horror as he brought the receiver to his ear and frowned. He pressed the button on the cradle a few times and tutted.

I had to speak up. “I pulled out the plug,” I said, in a faint voice.

He looked at me as if he’d just remembered I was in the room. “You pulled out the plug? Why, for God’s sake?”

“It was – the calls that kept coming...” I trailed away limply as I saw him shake his head.

“For God’s sake, Maudie,” he said. “What’s wrong with you?”

I said nothing. He pushed the plug back into the wall socket with a jerk of his wrist and looked back over his shoulder. “I am really, seriously worried about you,” he said. “I’m even wondering whether I should call your therapist.”

“No!” My voice came out louder than I’d intended. I swallowed. “There’s really no need. I feel fine. Just a bit fluey.”

“But why did you pull the phones out?” he said. He had that helpless look on his face again, the look of someone swimming in unknown and dangerous waters.

“I just wanted a bit of peace,” I said. “I was getting fed up of those calls. That’s all.”

“You didn’t call the phone company?” he said.

I swallowed. “I did, actually,” I said, after a moment. “But they couldn’t do anything.”

I climbed back under the bed covers. Matt stood above me for a moment, hesitating. "I have to go to work," he said. "I need to sort out a few things."

"That's fine," I said. "Don't worry about me."

I saw his jaw clench. “Do you even remember what we talked about last night?” he said.

I rolled over, pulling the duvet up around my ears. “Yes,” I said in a mumble.

I could feel him still hovering above me. I heard him take a deep breath. “Alright,” he said eventually. “I’m going to leave you alone now. I want you to call me if - if you start to feel worse. In any way.”

I had the feeling he wanted to say something else but he didn’t. After a moment, he left the room.

As soon as I heard the front door slam, I threw back the covers and scuttled into the hallway. I locked it behind him, bolts and deadlocks shot home. Then I ran to unplug the phones.

I hadn’t showered, eaten breakfast, or even cleaned my teeth. In fact, I couldn’t quite remember the last time I had eaten something but it didn’t seem to matter too much at the moment. I wasn’t hungry. I went back to the sofa and lay there.

The beep of a text message arriving at my mobile alerted me. I opened the little envelope icon, wary. But it was just a missed call from Mr. Fenwick’s office. No doubt he’d been trying to get through on the landline. I took a deep breath and rang the number back.

“Maudie,” said Mr. Fenwick, when I finally got through to him. “How are you, my dear? I’ve been trying to get hold of you. I’ve just called Matthew and he said you were at home, ill. Did you know you had a problem with your telephone line?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, lying through my teeth. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Thanks for telling me about the phone line, though.”

“Now, nothing for you to worry about but I need your signatures on a couple of documents. Nothing too exciting, just a few bits of paperwork for the estate. Is there any chance you could pop along sometime today to sign them? Do you feel up to it?”

I showered and dressed, yanking my clothes on clumsily, my fingers stiff. I was getting angrier and angrier, though with precisely whom I wasn’t quite sure. It was fury at a host of people; at Jessica, naturally. It was with Matt, for not understanding, for smothering me with his concern, for making me so ashamed of my drinking that I had to hide it from him. It was with Becca, for being pregnant and making me feel things I didn't want to feel. It was with Angus, for everything.

In the kitchen, I looked at the knife block. My hand went out and selected one, small enough to fit in my coat pocket. Just in case.

I banged the front door behind me and went downstairs in the lift, humming a quiet, bitter tune through clenched teeth. As I reached the outside air, I almost wanted her to be there. I was just about ready for a proper, stand up fight.

She wasn’t there. I felt the hot tide that had bourn me out of the door and down the storeys ebb and evaporate. Chastened, I hailed a taxi. I didn’t even bother looking about me as we joined the flow of traffic that pushed and jostled its way towards the city.

“Good God, Maudie,” said Mr. Fenwick as I entered his office. I was startled; he looked genuinely shocked. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, taken aback. I caught sight of myself in the mirror hanging on the back wall of his office and nearly jumped myself. I was chalky as a ghost, the rings under my eyes, deep and plum coloured. My scar stood out like a brand.