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The Couple at No. 9(137)

Author:Claire Douglas

Daphne leant into me and whispered in my ear, ‘Shall I get us a drink? A hot chocolate or something? It’s freezing and we might be waiting a while.’

‘I …’ I stood on tiptoe to peer around anxiously. ‘I don’t know. You might lose us.’

‘I’ll find you, don’t worry,’ she said. And then she was gone, moving effortlessly through the crowds in her patched velvet coat and her crocheted beret, and I was reminded of the night, nearly a year ago, when I’d first spotted her in the square and my heart had sung.

I turned back to you. ‘Daffy’s just going to get a drink,’ I said, not sure if I was trying to reassure you or myself. I held your hand tightly.

‘No,’ you said, letting go. ‘Don’t want.’

‘No, hold my hand,’ I snapped and then instantly felt guilty. ‘Please, Lolly, I don’t want you to get lost.’

You turned away from me to continue eating your toffee apple but you let me hold your hand. Where was Daphne? She was taking too long. I wished we were at home, safe in the cottage.

‘Hello, hello,’ said a voice beside me. It was Melissa, clutching a flask. ‘Isn’t this exciting? And what a great turn-out.’

‘Hmm,’ I said, glancing over her shoulder to see if I could spot Daphne. Then I turned back to Melissa, with an idea. ‘Actually, I’m glad I’ve bumped into you. This is going to sound strange,’ I lowered my voice and angled my body away from you so that you couldn’t hear, ‘but the man who came into the café looking for me, I’m worried it’s someone I used to know. Someone I … escaped from.’

‘Oh, lovey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.’

I held up my hand. I needed to get this out before I changed my mind. ‘I’ve done something stupid, really stupid. My life,’ I said, ‘could be in …’ I mouthed the next word so that you couldn’t hear ‘… danger.’

Melissa’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘If something happens to me –’

‘Why, nothing’s going to happen to you, dear, don’t be silly!’

‘Listen. Please. If something did, the evidence is in the fireplace. Can you remember that? It’s very, very important.’

She looked horrified. ‘I – I will. But I’m worried for you. Is there someone I can call? The police?’

‘No!’ I almost shouted. You turned and I smiled at you. When you looked back to the bonfire I said, in a hushed tone, ‘No. Please, no police. I’m sure it’s fine, but just in case.’

She threw me a look of concern but agreed. ‘Oh, there’s Maureen. Sorry, lovey, I need to go.’ She turned away from me, probably with relief that she’d found someone more normal to talk to. I craned my neck to see if I could spot Daphne. She was taking ages with the drinks. And then I spotted her, over by the hot-dog stand, talking to someone. My heart started racing. It looked like a man. Tall, dark. Was it … was it Victor? No, no, of course it wasn’t. This man looked younger, dressed in wellies and a waxed jacket. Daphne was smiling, and so was he from the way he was throwing his head back and touching her arm. Jealousy shot through me. Were they flirting?

‘Mummy, when is it going to start?’

I turned my attention back to you, unease growing in my gut, like bacteria. ‘Soon, sweetheart. Really soon.’

‘I feel sick.’ You thrust the half-eaten toffee apple into my hand.

‘Not surprised,’ I said, trying to keep my voice light. ‘Ooh, look! Look, it’s starting.’

You were distracted by the rocket that ripped through the sky and exploded over our heads in rays of pinks and purples.