She belatedly realises that she’s given the game away and colours slightly, looking at her feet. ‘His wife is away visiting her parents.’
‘Mother!’
‘What? You think that just because I’m approaching retirement age, I shouldn’t have any fun?’ Despite her words, her blush deepens.
I try hard not to be disapproving. It’s her life, after all. Despite my forced light tone, I don’t do a particularly good job. ‘I’m sure you could find someone who’s unattached. There are lots of dating agencies…’
‘Zoe Lydon. The day you get to lecture me on my love life is the day that I see you stepping out with a man of your own. Who are you going on holiday with?’
‘He’s just a friend,’ I mumble. How on earth did she manage to turn the tables on me so quickly?
‘And why haven’t I met him? What does he do for a living?’
I frown. ‘I think he’s a lawyer.’ Well, that’s what he’d said when he came to rescue me from the local jail.
She brightens. ‘That’s something. Although you do know a lot of doctors. Why don’t you speak to some of them? I’m sure they’d be thrilled to go out with such a charming young lady as yourself.’
I groan. ‘Mum. Let me just enjoy being me again for a while first, alright?’
She regards me seriously then smiles. ‘I’m really pleased you’re going away. You deserve it. Your employer works you far too hard.’
Shit. Jerry. ‘Thanks for bringing the suitcase and for looking after the Chairman,’ I say quickly. ‘I just need to go and make a phone call.’ I press my spare key into her hand and avoid the tremor of fear that ripples through me as I effectively hand over my personal security to another person, whether she’s my mother or not.
Somewhat nonplussed, she blinks at me. I beat a hasty retreat while I still can.
***
Unfortunately, Jerry is unimpressed at my late request. I might work from home but he still needs me to complete the latest coding for a new client’s website. ‘You had time off last month, Zoe. I know you’ve not taken many holidays recently but I need some notice. This isn’t how we do things. I have my boss to answer to as well.’
I wince. Companies and their leadership structures. A mere cog like me, who works from home, is often far removed from such matters. It doesn’t mean I don’t remember what it’s like. ‘I’m really sorry.’ It’s not so long ago that Jerry was delighted when I took a holiday. Much more of this and he’ll be convinced I’m taking advantage.
I twist a curl of hair round my fingers. ‘It’s kind of an emergency. I’ll still get the work finished in time, I promise.’
‘Do I have much choice?’ he asks huffily.
I’m quiet. ‘There’s always a choice.’
I’m starting to see how easy it would be to misuse my dreamweaving abilities. If I could hop inside Jerry’s head while he’s sleeping, it would probably be a simple matter to convince his subconscious self that I deserved another holiday. My intentions might be pure but I have to be bloody careful about how I carry them out. This wasn’t like trying to wake up someone from a nightmare. This would be Manipulation 101.
He tsks. ‘Complete the Macgruber work and I can delay the next project.’
I heave a silent sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’
‘This has to be the last time though, Zoe,’ he warns. ‘From now on, you need to go through proper channels like everyone else.’
‘I will, I will.’
‘Super.’ He still doesn’t sound particularly thrilled.
If I want to put food on the table and continue paying my bills, I’m going to have to find some other way to stop the Department for good. I can’t afford to spend the next year travelling around the world to every single Dreamlands zone. I’ll just have to hope that this trip to America sheds some light on what can be done. I nibble at my bottom lip. The Mayor founded the Department and he was evil through and through but maybe the rest of them aren’t that bad, despite what the others have said. I have a nasty feeling that’s wishful thinking.
When the taxi honks its arrival, I grab the Chairman and give him a farewell squeeze, much to his disgust. My mother promises to lock up. Old habits die hard and I can’t help throwing a nervous look at my steel-reinforced door. ‘You will check that it’s secure?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘And all the windows too?’
‘Yes.’
‘And…’
‘Zoe. You’re not going to be here. No one’s going to come and attack you because you’ll be on the other side of the world.’
‘You’re right.’ I nod. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I am a rational calm person who no longer suffers from debilitating agoraphobia. I’m doing what normal people do every day of the week and simply leaving for a short trip. No problemo.
***
I’m moaning like a caged animal in the back seat of the taxi. The driver keeps looking anxiously in the rear view window.
‘Are you okay, miss?’
I can feel the pressure building in my head. I feel like I’m going to throw up. ‘I thought I was over this,’ I whisper.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Stop the car.’
He pulls over to one side. ‘Are you hungover?’
I shake my head and push open the door, retching violently. With no breakfast in my stomach, nothing comes up other than foul-tasting yellow bile. When I’m done, I pull back and try to breathe. The driver silently hands me a crumpled tissue. I wipe my mouth and push back the tears forming in my eyes.
‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘You’d better keep going or I’ll miss the flight.’
He puts the car back into gear. He’s barely three metres away from the curb, however, when I start feeling light-headed again. I begin pinching the tips of my fingers, one after the other. Come on, Zoe, I tell myself. You can do this. But my chest is tight and the panic is overwhelming. Much like the zumba woman, I’m shaking all over.
I cough and croak. ‘No.’
‘Miss?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I manage. ‘You’ll have to turn back.’
‘Are you sure?’
I nod miserably.
He’s a decent guy. He doesn’t demand explanations or even look upset at the loss of a lucrative airport fare. He simply gives me a worried smile and makes a U-turn.
The instant that the car is facing back in the direction of home, the pain in my chest begins to lessen but it doesn’t stop me from feeling utterly defeated. I’m meant to be over this. I’ve been leaving my house now for more than a month. There haven’t been any panic attacks or any problems. The hold that Dean Salib had placed on me to ostensibly keep me safe was supposed to have gone.
I curl my fingers into the palms of my hands and feel the sharp pain of my nails digging into my flesh. A single tear rolls down my cheek. It’s not fucking fair.
When we get back to the familiar street and my house, I almost fall out of the taxi door. The driver helps me stagger up the pathway. I keep my eyes trained on the ground. The concrete slabs are all as they were. The crack in the fifth one still looks like a deformed bolt of lightning. There’s moss edging round the seventh one, reminding me I should do some gardening. I focus on shallow breaths and gulp in as much air as I can.
I fumble into my pocket and pull out my purse, giving him a large tip. He shakes his head. ‘It’s too much.’
‘Please.’ My eyes implore him. I’ve already messed up once today. For some reason, giving him more than necessary will assuage my feelings of helplessness.
He pats me on the shoulder and I flinch. He almost looks sorrier than I feel. ‘You’ll be alright,’ he assures me.
Misery shudders through me. Alright: maybe that’s something I’ll never be.
Once he’s driven off, I search for my keys, eventually dragging them out of the zipped purse compartment. I have to compose myself because my hands are shaking too much for the key to fit in the lock. I fall in through the d
oor, my knees buckling underneath me. When I hear the murmur of voices and a bark of loud laughter, I’m almost completely undone. The fear is paralysing.
‘Is that John?’ I stare up from the very spot where Dean Salib breathed his last as my mother waltzes in from the kitchen and stares at me. ‘Zoe? What on earth’s wrong?’ She rushes towards me.
There’s more laughter. Blood rushes in my ears. I look past her with dread to the kitchen. I don’t know what I’m expecting: an axe-wielding murderer, a scarily dressed clown, someone from the Department, even the dead Mayor... My mother’s eyes follow my gaze and she slumps in a mixture of pity and sympathy as she recognizes my expression. ‘Oh, Zoe. Not again.’
‘Who?’ I gasp. ‘Who is there?’
She places a cool hand on my forehead, just like she used to do when I was a child and I was ill. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sounds like she really is. ‘I thought our bridge group could do with a change of venue. With you away…’ She swallows. ‘It was wrong of me.’
‘Upstairs. I need to get upstairs.’
She bites her lip and nods. ‘I’ll get rid of them.’
I slump into my bedroom, throw open my wardrobe door and curl up in the bottom in the tightest ball I can possibly manage. It’s dark and safe and solid. I close my eyes and block out the world. No-one is going to hurt me. I’m not in any danger. I repeat the words over and over again in my head like a Buddhist mantra.
I don’t know how much time passes before the phone starts to ring. It sounds like it’s very far away. I have no intention of answering it. I’m not given much of a choice though. There’s a gentle knock on the wardrobe door. ‘Zoe? It’s for you.’
I push open the door, ignoring the creak, and take the phone from my mother and doing my best to ignore her anxious expression. I stare at the mobile dully. I was really proud when I bought it. When I was trapped inside the house I didn’t need a mobile phone, so acquiring one because I might actually need it had filled me with delight. Now it just seems like another link to the big bad world outside that I could do without.
My mother wrings her hands. ‘Should I call the doctor?’
I shake my head mutely. Her face remains pale and worried. I try to smile but it doesn’t work so instead I just hold the phone to my ear.
‘Zoe? Are you almost here? Check-in will be closing in five minutes so you’d better tell your taxi to put the pedal to the metal.’
I lick my lips. ‘I’m not coming,’ I whisper.
‘Pardon?’
‘I’m sorry, Dante.’ Tears leak out of my eyes. ‘I can’t do it. I tried. I really tried. But we were less than five miles out of town and…’ My voice trails off as I’m forced to take several ragged gulps of air.
There’s a moment of silence. I hug myself. He thinks I’m an idiot. What kind of person is afraid to travel more than a few miles from home? After all the dreamweaver revelations, I told him I was fully recovered from my agoraphobia. I’m nothing more than a big, fat liar.
‘Get a hold of yourself,’ he says sternly.
I jerk. ‘Wh-what?’
‘You heard me. Where are you right now? Back at home?’
I nod, then remember to speak. ‘Yes.’
‘Are you dizzy? Sick?’
I try to focus. ‘No,’ I mumble. ‘Not now.’
‘I know you’re breathing because I can hear it. You’re not dying. You’ve not failed.’ He exhales loudly. ‘You’ve not left your town, have you? I mean in the last month since you managed to leave your house.’
‘No.’ It sounds like more of a squeak than an actual word.
‘Well then, what do you expect? You can’t just jump on a plane and travel thousands of miles without thinking about it. This is normal. It’s not a problem.’
Like an idiot, I start to sniffle. ‘Of course it is!’
‘No, it’s not.’ He curses. ‘I pushed you too hard when I should have been more thoughtful. This is my fault, not yours, so you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and shake it off. We can go another time.’
My bottom lip juts out like a child’s. ‘We can’t. It was really difficult for me to get time off work at such short notice. I don’t know how long it’ll take before I’m brave enough to…’
‘Brave enough?’ he interrupts incredulously. ‘Last night, you skied down a monster of a mountain where anything might have happened!’
‘But that was in a dream.’
‘You could still have seriously injured yourself! Not to mention that you were the only person brave enough to take on the Mayor.’
‘But…’
‘Stop saying but. Get yourself a cup of tea. I’ll be there in an hour.’
‘But…’
‘I told you to stop saying that.’
A smile wobbles at the corner of my mouth. ‘But we need to find out exactly what’s going on in the other zones, Dante. We need to know what the Department is up to. You can’t come back here, you have to go. Meet your contact. There’s no other choice.’
I can picture Dante running a hand through his jet black hair. ‘I don’t want to leave you on your own like this.’
‘My mum’s here. I’ll be fine. And there’s always the phone.’
‘No. You need me.’
I blink, astonished. ‘I do need you. I need you to find out what you can, Dante. I need to know that the Department isn’t up to anything else.’ I pause. ‘Go. Please. You’re a tracker. You can find me any time. I’ll try to sleep later so it’s easier for you with the time difference.’
‘I’m not a tracker, Zoe. I’m the tracker.’
‘The one and only?’
He laughs without mirth. ‘The one and only.’
‘Well, then,’ I say, ‘I guess that makes two of us.’
Chapter Two
Assumptions are the termites of relationships. Henry Winkler
The remnants of my mother’s impromptu bridge party linger in the kitchen. She’s energetic with her apologies and I can’t muster the energy to stay annoyed. Considering how I’d expected her to drop everything at the last minute to help me out and look after the Chairman, I’m not in a position to complain. If everything had gone to plan, I’d never have known about it – assuming the sticky gin marks had been wiped away, of course.
I virtually push her out of the door, telling her repeatedly that I’m fine. I don’t think I’m lying. Surprisingly, the conversation with Dante calmed me down a lot. And now that I’m back within the safety of my own four walls, I do feel much better.
I take a few experimental steps outside, worried that I may have regressed completely. When the panic remains at bay, I decide that I really am okay. Not good or normal or happy, but okay. For now that will have to be enough.
With nothing else left to do, I get on with the last of the work that I’d promised to complete for Jerry. It’s a testament to how far I’ve come that I can put my angst from this morning aside and focus on something else. The familiar monotony of coding relaxes me even more. I’m tempted to call Jerry and say that I’ve cancelled my plans, but I decide against it. I might be able to use the free time to do other investigating; it’s not fair to leave it completely to Dante.
The knotted tension across my shoulders begins to dissipate as I work. For a short while I even kid myself that I wasn’t the person vomiting at the thought of travelling to another country. When the doorbell rings an hour or so later, however, my stomach drops in another sickening lurch. I remind myself that it’s absolutely fine to have someone appear on my doorstep.
Convinced that Dante’s ignored my pleas and returned to check up on me, I open the door with a heavy heart. It’s not his familiar face in front of me – it’s a different one. My mouth drops open.
‘Hi Zoe.’
‘Adam? What on earth are you doing here?’
My ex-boyfriend looks sheepish and shuffles his feet. ‘I wanted to come sooner,’ he admits. ‘But I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.’
It’s a long
time since I last saw him. It wasn’t long into my seriously agoraphobic days that he gave up on our relationship – something that actually made me feel relieved at the time. Guilt trickles through me now, though. The Mayor had grabbed him to try and find out where I was. From what I’d heard, it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. I should have called Adam afterwards.
I find my voice. ‘It’s good to see you. Come in.’
‘Are you sure?’
I smile and nod. ‘It’s fine now. I’m doing really well.’ I jump onto the path and back in again. ‘Ta da!’ Just don’t ask me to leave the country with you, I add silently.
‘That’s really good, Zo.’ He peers at me. ‘You seem kind of pale though.’
I dismiss his comment with a wave. ‘I ate something that didn’t agree with me. It’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Good. Good.’
I lead him into the kitchen. He declines my offer of a drink, although I see him look askance at the empty glasses and open bottle of gin. ‘My mother had a bridge party. Sort of.’
He tugs at his collar. ‘Oh. Okay.’
I smile involuntarily and wonder whether he really thinks I spend my days drowning my sorrows in Mother’s Ruin. Inwardly I shrug; it’s up to him what he thinks. ‘Look,’ I say finally. ‘I’m really sorry you got dragged into all that stuff last month. You know the, er, kidnapping and all.’
He sits down awkwardly. The Chairman appears out of nowhere and Adam smiles as he leans down to scratch his ears. ‘Hi, Mao.’ There’s an audible purr in response. Then he glances back up at me. ‘The police wouldn’t tell me much about what all that was about. Who was that guy?’
‘Just some nutter.’ I shake my head. ‘Nothing to worry about now. He, um, passed away. Heart attack,’ I add.
‘I heard that.’ Adam reaches over and covers my hand with his. ‘I was really concerned about you.’
‘I was concerned about you, too. It wasn’t fair that you were involved like that.’
He nods and we lapse into an uncomfortable silence. The large clock on the wall ticks loudly, filling the air. I look him over. He’s as good-looking as ever – sandy hair, soft brown eyes and a gentle smile. Except now I can’t imagine what I ever saw in him. There’s no tug inside me, just a faint nostalgic fondness and lingering guilt about what the Mayor did.