Free The One You Love by Paul Pilkington

to notice the strain in her voice. She was alone in that apartment. How bad could it get? While he was wallowing in self-pity, worried about how all this would impact upon him, his sister’s life was falling apart.
    ‘I’ll be over soon,’ he promised, glancing at his watch. ‘I just have to do something first.’
    He said goodbye and headed straight for the tube. If the guy was ignoring his calls, the only option was to confront him face to face. He owed it to Emma.
     
    ***
     
    ‘Oh, hi,’ Will said, taken aback when an attractive twenty-something girl opened the door. It was the last thing he had been expecting – maybe he’d found a new girlfriend? ‘I was looking for…’
    ‘He doesn’t live here anymore,’ she interrupted, in a Scottish accent. ‘He moved out, and I’m the new tenant.’
    ‘Oh, right. You don’t know where he’s gone, do you?’
    The girl laughed. ‘Know where he’s gone? I feel like his personal secretary, the amount of mail I’ve forwarded in the past two weeks. I wouldn’t care, but I haven’t even met the bloke.’
    ‘Lucky you,’ Will said, joking but serious at the same time.
    ‘Are you a friend?’ she asked, leaning against the opened door. Will noticed a tattoo just above her jeans waistband as her shirt rode up.
    ‘Yes,’ he lied, ‘although obviously not close enough for him to tell me that he was moving. So, you’ve got a forwarding address?’
    ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Come on in – I’ll just get it.’
    Will followed her into the flat.
    ‘You’ve done this up nicely,’ he noted, as he surveyed the living room. He hadn’t planned to comment on interior design, but the difference compared to his last visit there was amazing. The place looked so much better – cleaner for a start. Before it had been dreary, even foreboding. But now it was inviting, homely.
    ‘Thanks,’ the girl said, rummaging around on the bookcase. ‘I try my best.’ She handed Will a piece of paper and three letters. ‘I thought you might like to deliver these by hand,’ she smiled.
    ‘Sure.’ Will looked at the address on the paper. He knew the area well, and it wasn’t the sort of place a person would choose to live unless they had no other choice.
    ‘You know,’ the girl said, ‘it’s really sad when the former tenant not only gets more mail than you, but more visitors too.’
    Will looked up at her. ‘I find that hard to believe. You don’t have lots of visitors?’
    ‘Only moved down here two weeks ago from Edinburgh. I don’t know anybody here yet. Well, apart from some work colleagues – they seem okay.’
    ‘It takes time,’ Will replied, looking at the letters that he suspected were all junk mail of one kind or another. ‘London can be a pretty lonely place. But trust me; you’ll make many more friends than the guy who used to live here.’
     
    ***
     
    Will arrived at the block of flats half an hour later. He paused on the grassy area outside and looked up the full twenty floors. It was an ugly concrete monstrosity. Balconies were decorated with satellite dishes, washing lines, even bicycles. It was like a vertical jumble sale. The walk from the tube had confirmed Will’s opinion of the area – it wasn’t a place in which he felt particularly comfortable.
    He took a deep breath and approached the main doors. It was another intercom system. He pressed the button but there was no reply.
    ‘Fantastic.’
    But this time he got lucky. As he paced around at the bottom of the steps a young woman carrying several bags of shopping passed by and entered the apartment block. He reached to hold out the door as she struggled to edge through the gap and then followed her inside. She didn’t question him.
    The flat was on the sixth floor, and with the lift out of order it was a tiring climb. It gave him time, though, to think about what he was going to say. He reached the door and knocked, but no one answered. By the time the elderly woman interrupted him his