Free Follow You Home by Mark Edwards Page B

said, ‘You are sure . . . no one knows you are here?’
    ‘No. I’m sure.’
    He left the room and I heard their footsteps recede, their voices growing quieter.
    ‘We have to go,’ I said to Laura. Her expression was blank. I took hold of her arm and pulled her up. ‘Come on. We need to go now.’
    ‘But . . .’
    ‘There’s something not right here,’ I said. ‘Why does he keep asking if anyone knows we’re here? I don’t like it.’ I went to the doorway and looked out. There was no one in sight and I couldn’t hear either of the police officers any more. ‘It’s clear. Let’s go.’
    Laura staggered to her feet and I put my arm around her. I took another look down the corridor. I could see nothing but could hear shouting. Maybe Constantin had been called away to deal with a difficult prisoner. Whatever, we had to take our chance to get out of this place.
    We hurried to the exit, reaching the reception desk, which was now empty.
    ‘Our backpacks,’ Laura said in a quiet voice. ‘Where are they?’
    ‘We’ll have to leave them,’ I said. I was so convinced that Constantin was not to be trusted that leaving the backpacks behind seemed like a necessary sacrifice. As we stepped out into what was now a warm, sunny morning, I felt a surge of relief. I took Laura’s hand and pulled her along, asking someone for directions to the train station as we went. We cut across a field towards the station and, to my great relief, I had just enough cash in my pocket to pay for a train out of town.
    ‘What happened after that?’ Dr Sauvage asked, blowing a stream of water vapour into the air.
    In the distance, I could hear cars, a man shouting, a door banging. But above this, I could hear my own heartbeat, the rushing in my ears, like I was underwater.
    ‘Daniel?’
    I turned towards her.
    ‘Our tickets only took us to another small town, where we found a pawnbroker who was willing to buy my watch. I got just enough for the fare to Bucharest. Once we got there, we found the British Embassy and, after lots of phone calls, they gave us temporary travel documents and found us a flight.’
    ‘Did you tell anyone else what had happened?’
    ‘No. We haven’t told anybody.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘We couldn’t. We can’t.’
    Her voice was soothing. ‘Daniel, I hope you will soon be able to tell me. Like I’ve already told you, only then will you be able to deal with the way you feel.’
    There was a thinning patch on my jeans where the denim was almost worn through. I stared at it now, unable to meet Dr Sauvage’s eye. ‘You don’t . . . I don’t know if I can. Not yet. Maybe next time.’ We had another appointment later that week.
    ‘What are you seeing, Daniel? In your mind’s eye.’
    ‘A Polaroid exhibition of horror.’
    ‘What?’
    I lifted my eyes towards her. ‘Polaroids,’ I repeated.
    Flash . A crouching man, a glint of metal.
    Flash . Numbers scrawled in ink. 13.8.13.
    Flash. Flash. Flash .
    I stood up. ‘I have to go.’
    ‘Daniel . . .’
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    I left Dr Sauvage’s office and headed down the road. I felt queasy, still reeling from telling even just the part of my tale I’d been able to share. I thought about my watch in the pawnbroker’s shop in the little town in Romania, the name of which I couldn’t remember now. That watch had been a present from Laura to celebrate my deal with Skittle. It had cost half a month’s salary, but that wasn’t what mattered. She’d had it engraved with a few simple words: Till the end of time, Laura xxxx .

    I took the bus back to Angel and visited the supermarket—milk, bread, paracetamol, red wine, white wine—before heading back to my flat.
    Even as I headed up the stairs I knew something was wrong. I lived in an old Victorian building that had been divided into f lats. Lau ra and I had long been planning to move to somewhere bigger and better but, even with the windfall from the sale of