Читать книгу The New Girl: A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist perfect for fans of Friend Request - Ingrid Alexandra - Страница 9

The sky is ominous today. Slate-grey clouds hang over the horizon and the sea is the colour of dishwater. Early summer weather is fickle and today it’s only sixteen degrees and sheeting with rain.

I tap my foot on the wooden deck, a lukewarm cup of tea in my hands. My eyes flick back and forth to the clock on my phone but time doesn’t seem to be passing at all. Why did I agree to this? Cat could have swapped shifts with someone, surely, or Ben could have postponed his ‘date’. Isn’t this something we should all be doing together?

My foot taps on restlessly, like it’s disconnected from the rest of me. Tap tap tap tap tap tap. The intercom buzzes and I jump, spilling tea down the front of my T-shirt. ‘Shit.’

Rushing into the kitchen, I drop the mug in the sink and mop at my front with a soggy tea towel, which only serves to spread the moisture. The intrusive buzz sounds again and I jab my finger at the silver button on the intercom.

‘Hello?’ I say. The word sounds hoarse, as if spoken by a heavy smoker. Silence. I clear my throat, ‘Hello?’

‘Hi! Yes. Um, is this Mary?’ It’s a soft, husky female voice, not what I was expecting.

‘Yes.’

‘Hi! It’s Rachel. For the room?’

‘Right, yeah. Of course. Come on up.’

‘Thanks!’

I press the button for the front door and hear a short, low brrrrrrpt on the other end.

She’s in.

Swallowing thickly, I pour myself some water, then stop. Shit, I’ve forgotten. Today of all days. Dashing to my room, I yank open the top drawer of my dresser and find the aluminium popper pack. I thrust my thumb into the foil twice and throw back the small, white pills with a slug of water. As I’m wiping my mouth on my sleeve, there’s a knock at the door.

‘Coming!’ That’s better. Normal-sounding, friendly. I make myself walk slowly to the door, breathe, then open it.

At first all I see is an oversized grey raincoat with a hood and a shadow for a face. Then the hood slides back and a face appears: pale, angular, with a high, domed forehead and hazel eyes. Dimpled cheeks bracket a wide, even-toothed smile. Two small hands reach up to disengage a bundle of dishevelled, shoulder-length blonde hair from the hood of the raincoat.

All thoughts of greeting are erased by the sudden feeling of recognition. A face like that would be hard to forget, I think. But I can’t pinpoint where I may have seen her. I almost ask if I know her, but she’s thrusting out her small hand, beaming, and saying in that rough-edged voice, ‘It’s so nice to meet you!’

‘Hi. Yes, you too.’

Rachel grasps my hand with fingers that are ice-cold. She’s surrounded by the scent of something sharp and sweet. I’m about to pull my hand back when our eyes connect. I feel a jolt; there’s something in those wide-set eyes, something that makes me feel exposed.

‘Are you okay?’ Rachel’s peering at me, brow furrowed. I can see the dusting of freckles on her small, upturned nose. She’s pretty. Really pretty. And then I wonder if it’s okay to think she’s pretty when she looks a bit like me. Not a dead ringer, of course, but the basic stats: blonde, slim, around the same age. But I’ve got nothing on this girl. At my best, I was that balance of plain and pretty that made me approachable, not too intimidating.

‘Mary?’

I shake my head to clear it. ‘Yeah, yes. Sorry. I just … Bit of a headache.’

‘You poor thing,’ Rachel puts her hand on my upper arm and squeezes gently. The sleeve of her raincoat rides up and I glimpse a black, Celtic-looking pattern on her wrist. A tattoo? ‘I get headaches a lot, so I totally sympathise. Do you want some ibuprofen or something?’

I force a smile. ‘No, really, I’m fine. Sorry about that. Come in. Would you like a coffee, or a tea maybe?’

‘I’d love a coffee, thanks.’ Rachel kicks off her trainers and walks down the hallway and into the kitchen, placing her handbag on the counter. ‘Oh god, wow,’ she breathes, her gaze settling on the dark, rolling clouds, the grey sea and the misty mountain beyond. The flailing branches of the fir trees by the shore hint at a storm. ‘This place is amazing.’

‘Yeah. The view is pretty great.’ I flick on the kettle and spoon instant coffee into two mugs. ‘Did you walk here?’

‘Yup. I don’t have a car at the moment.’ Rachel shrugs out of her raincoat to reveal a baggy jumper emblazoned with the Sydney University logo and a pair of black leggings. Her long legs remind me of a dancer’s or a model’s, and I wonder if she has that ‘thigh gap’ everyone has become obsessed with in recent years.

‘Sorry, I didn’t dress up for you.’ She grins and I wonder if she saw me looking. ‘I’m more of a “dress for comfort” kind of girl.’

‘You’re in good company,’ I say with a smile, gesturing to my T-shirt and jeans.

‘Oh, I love your shirt! Where did you find it? Astro Boy is so retro!’

‘It was a gift, ages ago. It’s way too big.’ I pull at the hem of the shirt, which hangs mid-thigh.

‘It really suits you.’ Rachel smiles warmly and I feel my cheeks heat up as though a boy I liked just paid attention to me. Rachel is not just gorgeous; she’s cool, confident. Like I used to be.

The kettle squeals as it reaches boiling point and, grateful for the distraction, I turn and pour hot water into the mugs. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

‘Thanks, yes. Milk and two sugars.’

I slop milk into both mugs, some of it splattering onto the counter, and stir in the sugar. ‘So,’ I say as I hastily wipe up with a grubby cloth and hand Rachel her mug, ‘how about you take a look at the room, see what you think?’

Rachel beams. ‘Great.’

I lead her down the hall. The room is clean and smells of fresh paint. Cat’s family had some furniture in storage so we decided to rent it furnished so we could ask for more money. The space looks neat and inviting. The room is a mirror image of mine, and beyond the glass sliding doors that connect to the balcony, the sea is visible through the mist.

‘Jesus,’ Rachel murmurs, so softly I can barely hear her. ‘I knew it would be nice, but I wasn’t expecting this.’

I smile. There’s something endearing about her reaction. ‘You’re available straight away, is that right?’ I ask. As soon as the words are out, I cringe inwardly. It sounds like I’m already asking her to move in.

Rachel nods, smiling wide. ‘I am, absolutely, yes.’ She takes a sip of coffee as she combs her fingers through a strand of fine, blonde hair. ‘I’m currently crashing on a friend’s couch – not ideal – until I find somewhere. I just moved from Melbourne, kind of in a hurry actually, so I’m still finding my feet.’

‘Oh! I’m from Melbourne, too.’

Rachel’s eyes pop. ‘Seriously? Wow!’ She beams, hazel eyes twinkling. Again, I have that feeling of exposure, of being really looked at. Being seen. I haven’t felt that in a long time. ‘You know – and please don’t think I’m crazy here – but I get this weird feeling like I already know you. You know how sometimes you meet someone and you just click?’

A smile touches my lips. ‘Yeah. Actually, I do.’

Rachel puts a hand over her mouth. When she pulls it away, she’s grinning. ‘I was thinking, oh my God, Mary’s going to think I’m a complete freak saying that. But you didn’t. Thank fuck!’

A laugh escapes and I can’t believe it, I actually laughed.

‘And now I’ve gone and said fuck! See how comfortable I am with you already?’

‘Oh, don’t worry. I swear all the time,’ I tell her. ‘Fuck is probably the most frequently used word in my vocabulary.’

Rachel giggles, an airy, girlish sound, and I find myself joining in. I feel lighter all of a sudden. Taller.

A sharp trilling intrudes and it’s a moment before I realise what it is. I snatch my phone from my pocket.

Aunty Anne calling.

‘Sorry,’ I say to Rachel. ‘I have to take this.’

‘No probs.’ Rachel waves a hand in the air. ‘Take your time.’

I slip out on the balcony, sliding the door shut behind me. ‘Hi, Aunty Anne.’

‘Mary, darling.’ The familiar voice is muffled by the teeming rain. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. What’s new?’

There’s a pause. The storm’s moving in, the mountain across the water barely visible through the mist. ‘He’s been here again.’ There’s a note of apology in her tone. ‘Asking after you. Mentioning something about police this time.’

A cold shiver moves through me. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Did he …’

‘I’m okay, darling. He tried his best to rattle me, but you know your old aunt, I stood my ground. I told him you were still on holiday. He called me a liar and … a fucking bitch I think it was?’

‘God.’ I wince. Aunty Anne’s not one to mince words. ‘That’s horrible. I’m so …’

‘Don’t be sorry, darling, I just thought you should know.’

‘What else did he say?’

‘He said …’ A meaty cough comes through the phone; she’s been recovering from bronchitis. ‘Well, just what I told you. He called me a few things and …’

I press a finger to my throat, feel my pulse quicken. ‘And … and what else?’

A heavy sigh. ‘I suppose you could say there were threats.’

‘Like what? Against who?’

Pause. ‘Well, me. He was quite worked up. But that’s hardly new! I’m sure he didn’t really mean it.’

My throat tightens. I’m sick of it, this feeling. ‘I’m calling the police,’ I say. ‘Doctor Sarah said if he makes any threats …’

‘Oh, darling, hush. I’m not telling you so you worry about me.’ Aunty Anne’s voice sounds tinny, distant. ‘I’ve got your uncle and you know damn well no one gets past him. Next time, that bastard is going to leave with more than just a warning.’

My shoulders relax. My uncle, Lieutenant General John, is the main reason I felt okay to leave my aunty in Melbourne.

‘I just want to remind you to be careful, Mary.’

‘I am,’ I assure her. ‘He can’t find me here and if he did, he’d never get into the building.’

Aunty Anne is saying something, but the rain is coming down in sheets and a clap of thunder drowns out her voice. I run a hand over my mouth, turn to go inside.

Rachel is standing in the doorway. With a gasp, I drop the phone.

‘Sorry,’ Rachel says, looking sheepish. She bends to pick up my phone and hands it to me. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. You just looked so upset …’

‘Aunty Anne? I’ll call you back,’ I say into the receiver before ending the call.

‘Are you okay?’ Rachel asks. She has a glob of mascara in the corner of her eye; it’s all I can focus on. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Maybe you should sit down.’

I don’t want to sit down. I want a glass of wine, and I want to call Cat and tell her what’s happened. I want to smash something, but I do not want to sit down. ‘No, I’m okay, really. Just some … news from back home. Nothing serious.’

‘You’re sure?’ Rachel’s standing close, I can see flecks of gold and brown in her irises.

I take a breath, try to smile. ‘Everything’s fine. I’ve just got something I need to deal with. Sorry to cut this short, but …’

Rachel’s face clouds. ‘Oh. Okay.’

‘I’m definitely interested!’ I blurt. ‘I mean, this isn’t because of you … just bad timing. I’ll give you a call later, once I’ve talked things over with the others.’

Rachel’s face relaxes and she gives a small smile; for the first time, she seems uncertain. She steps inside, collects her handbag on her way to the door. ‘Okay, thanks. That’d be great. I look forward to speaking to you again. I, uh …’ She ducks her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘It was really nice meeting you today.’

‘Same here. Thanks, Rachel, I’ll be in touch very soon.’

Rachel kneels to put her trainers back on, opens the door and walks out. I’m about to close the door behind her when she looks over her shoulder.

‘Mary?’

‘Yes?’

A pair of sympathetic hazel eyes stare into mine. ‘I think you should go and have a lie-down or something. You really don’t look too well.’