Fractured(80)

‘Good morning, Mrs Keyworth.’

She stopped in her tracks, her automatic smile of greeting wavering as she took in the two strangers standing before her.

‘Good morning,’ she replied automatically, even as her eyes were narrowing in confusion. ‘I’m sorry… do I know you?’

That indeed was an interesting question. I stood silently as her gaze travelled blankly over my face, before she turned both her attention and questioning smile upon Jimmy. I almost smiled myself then at the familiar response from my landlady. She always had favoured her male tenants, especially the younger ones.

‘You probably don’t remember us,’ supplied Jimmy smoothly. That clearly was true enough. ‘We’re friends of someone who lives here.’ And that was a lie.

Mrs Keyworth’s smile was still a little uncertain, as she replied, ‘Ah yes. Of course. Nice to see you again.’

She moved past us then, continuing on her descent, but twice she paused to look back questioningly at us on the landing above her, as though something was vaguely troubling her. She would probably spend the rest of the morning trying to remember where and when she had previously met Jimmy. Me she had already forgotten.

When we were alone once more on the stairwell, I looked to see how Jimmy was processing this latest revelation.

‘That was my landlady, Mrs Keyworth. She’s a nice enough woman. A bit overly chatty sometimes. And she has quite a thing for younger men.’

Jimmy said nothing, not even smiling at my final comment. He looked preoccupied, as though something here was beginning to chip away at the foundation of his belief.

‘I think she took quite a shine to you,’ I teased.

Again he gave no responding light-hearted rejoinder, replying only in a slightly distracted tone. ‘But she didn’t recognise you.’

We were silent for the rest of the climb until we finally reached the top floor, on which the last flat was located. I hadn’t been expecting the jolt of recognition that assaulted me the moment we stood by the apartment.

‘And here we are. Home sweet home.’

Jimmy surveyed our surroundings: the front door with layers of paint curling off in thick flakes; the walls sadly in need of redecorating and the grimy hallway window, too flecked with dirt to let in much light on a dark December morning.

‘Quite frankly, I prefer your other place.’

I gave a small shrug.

‘Well…’ he prompted, standing back slightly to allow me access to the front door. ‘Are you going to knock?’

I took a small step forward, feeling knocking was surely unnecessary: whoever was inside my flat could probably already hear my heart hammering out like a drum.

I realised that the flat wasn’t mine even before I raised my hand to tap upon the wooden panel. There was a bright shiny new Yale lock on the door which definitely hadn’t been there when I was the occupant.

The rapping of knuckles against timber echoed down the length of the empty corridor. Minutes ticked by before I tried again, banging even more firmly on the familiar door.

‘Doesn’t look like anyone is home,’ Jimmy eventually declared. ‘Perhaps it’s not even occupied. There wasn’t a name on the doorbell downstairs.’

I was surprised at the disappointment that filled me at his words. To have come this far without finally being able to access the flat was beyond frustrating. Even though the evidence we had already uncovered told me what to expect, I still needed to see the proof with my own eyes. If I was ever to have any peace of mind, I needed to get inside the flat and verify there were no hidden traces within of my missing life.

And then I remembered something. Abandoning the front door, I crossed swiftly over to the window which was a short distance away down the corridor. I ran my fingers around the faded wooden sill, seeking a handhold. Gripping the yellowed wood firmly in both hands I began to pull, thrusting up against the sill with my knee when it resisted my efforts.

‘Er, what are you doing?’ queried Jimmy, coming quickly to my side.

I gave a grunt at my efforts but just kept trying to release the sill from the window cavity. Jimmy put his hands over mine, stilling my attempts to lift it.

‘Rachel, if you don’t want me to arrest you for vandalism, would you please explain what you’re up to?’

I sighed and straightened up.

‘The guy who had the flat before me, an American chap, told me about this dodgy sill when I moved in. Apparently he was always locking himself out, so he found this neat place to keep a spare key. If it’s still there, we can let ourselves into the flat and check it out.’

‘Now that is breaking and entering,’ Jimmy confirmed. ‘Not exactly the best career move on my part, do you not think?’