Andrew is carefully unloading the plants onto the table, whistling a simple little four-note tune through the gap in his teeth. He grins. “Occasionally. If I’m working late, or in bad weather. Driving tired is bad news for everyone. I should know. I lost both my parents in a car crash.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.” Cathy hops up the steps and stands just inside the doorway. Just enough to feel more of that delicious heat.
“You’re right about these hydrangeas, Cathy. I’ll be keeping them indoors till April at this rate.”
“I thought you were a handyman, not a gardener.”
“I’m what’s known as a jack-of-all-trades. I sweep floors, I empty bins. I change light bulbs. I save the council money by doing the jobs of three men, gardening just happens to be one of them.”
The warmth presses against Cathy’s back like a soft, guiding hand. She is a creature of basking and sweltering; hot, sultry temperatures, tanned skin. Thin blood, like a reptile. She takes another step backward into the aura of heat, enough to feel it baking the crown of her head. She closes her eyes and draws the smoke deep into her lungs. For the first time in days, she feels almost relaxed.
“Here.” Andrew is right behind her, nudging her gently with his elbow. She opens her eyes to see the mug he is holding out to her. “We can finally have that cup of tea together, eh?”
Cathy lifts it from him with a flush of embarrassment. At their last meeting, she’d lied and hustled him out of the house as fast as she could. Now here he was, inviting her in and making her feel comfortable.Good, the little voice of self-doubt, ever present, whispers.You acted like a bitch, and you should feel embarrassed.
“Listen, Andrew…” Cathy holds the tea against her chest, feeling the heat of it through her clothes, grateful, always grateful for the smallest kindness shown to her. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you before. I’ve had a wild few days.”
“And now you’re here, at the institute.” He smiles at her knowingly. “It must have been pretty wild.”
She laughs then, feeling good under the heat lamp with the nicotine rising in her blood and the scattered flakes of snow falling just outside.
“Oh no, I’m not… I’m not a patient.”
“I know you’re not. You wouldn’t be wandering around if you were. The patients all have those—what do you call them, the people who stay with them all the time?”
“Chaperones.”
“That’s the one!” He clicks his fingers, grinning. Cathy returns it. “So you’re visiting someone, are you?”
“Yes. No, I mean. I don’t know. Me and my friend, we’re looking for my sister.”
“Oh yuh?”
He has turned away again, sweeping spilled soil off the table into his cupped palm. Without his gaze on her, Cathy softens and opens up a little. It’s an easy thing to do in this warm, intimate room with a cup of tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She would never suspect that the effect was by design, not for a moment.
“Her name’s Hazel and she’s been missing for nearly a week. God, when I say that out loud, it sounds frightening, doesn’t it? What I mean is, she didn’t turn up to meet me when she said she would, and no one has seen her since. At first I thought she’d just bailed, you know? We’ve never been close, not even as kids.” Cathy seems to catch herself and laughs nervously. “Shit, sorry. You don’t want to hear all this. The point is, I might have gone on thinking that she stood me up, except—”
A beat. Cathy can hear him moving around behind her, but right here, wreathed in smoke and watching the snow gently falling outside, she feels still, almost hypnotized.
“—then I got the note.”
She registers the stillness before she realizes that he is directly behind her. His breath is very close, very dry.
“What note?”
“Here.” She reaches into her pocket and produces the scrap of crumpled paper. Andrew plucks it from her fingers and studies it closely. A thin vertical line appears between his brows like a staple embedded in his skin. Cathy keeps talking.
“See the writing there, how it looks like a stain? It’s a trick. We used to use it in school all the time, sending messages back and forth. I guess it’s one of those things that all kids learn about, a rite of pas—”
“Where did you find this?”
She looks up at him. His eyes aren’t looking at the note anymore. They are looking right at her, and she cannot read anything in them. Cathy had been in the room when the vet had put poor Gandalf to sleep because her mother had been crying so hard she hadn’t been able to stand. At first Gandalf was a slack little furry body lying on the steel table, just like he’d fallen asleep. But when Cathy had looked into Gandalf’s eyes, he hadn’t seen her. He hadn’t seen anything at all. His eyes gave out no light.
“Oh, not me. I didn’t find it, Suzie did. She works in the chemist.”
“Is that right?” He gives a short, dry laugh. “Well, now. That’s very clever. How do you think Hazel did it?”
Cathy shrugs. She is nearing the end of her cigarette and knows she should get back to the car. “Lemon juice, maybe? That’s what I used to use. Vinegar works. Piss too, if you’re desperate.”