It all happens so fast. When the paramedics lift his body and take it away, I’m still in a daze. By rights, I should be huddled in a corner and whimpering – or back within the safety of my wardrobe – but somehow the events have overtaken my natural urges. That’s not to say I’m not in a state of horrified disbelief, however.
‘Did you know him?’ the young policeman who arrived some time after the ambulance asks.
I stare at him slack jawed. The words make sense individually but as a whole they flummox me. He repeats the question.
‘Uh, no. I’ve never seen him before in my life.’
He seems concerned. ‘You should go to the hospital, Ms Lydon. You may be experiencing mild shock.’
Compared to my normal state, it’s a miracle how I’m handling things. I look him over. He has kind eyes and he’s obviously keen to help. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my arm, and I flinch. He drops his hand immediately while my mind flashes back to the wooden walls of my wardrobe. In the past hour I’ve had more strangers in my narrow little hallway than in the last year.
‘Please go,’ I whisper.
He’s confused. He opens his mouth to speak but a pale hand appears from the sunny outside world and gently touches his shoulder. I register a familiar face gazing at me with pity. My jelly-like insides start to harden.
‘Ms Lydon,’ the policewoman says politely. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
I realise that she’s been here before; that’s why I recognise her. This is a small town so it should be no surprise – in fact, the only surprise is that her colleague hasn’t heard of me. The batty woman who refuses to go outside. I can imagine I’m a source of amusement down at the small police station.
‘Would you like me to call your mother?’ she asks.
Desperation claws at me and I just manage to prevent myself from whimpering yes. I steel myself. The worst is over; I can cope on my own. I shake my head.
‘You know we’ll need to come back and ask you more questions. Once we’ve established more about the victim, that is.’
‘Okay.’
‘We’ll call ahead so you have advance warning. I can call the surgery and have a doctor...’
‘No.’ I’m taken aback by the strength in my voice. I straighten my shoulders and look her in the eye. ‘I’m fine.’
Her lips tighten at my tone but she’s professional enough to refrain from commenting further. She nods, gesturing to her partner who seems completely baffled by the interplay. Like a good boy, he does what he’s told and leaves. I slam the door shut behind them, fumbling with the locks as I peer at their departing backs through the spyhole. The policeman bows his head, obviously listening to her explanation.
‘Don’t worry about Zoe Lydon,’ I say, mimicking her clipped voice. ‘She’s just cuckoo. We should be thankful she stays off the streets. She probably murdered that old guy because he came round for a cup of sugar.’
I pause for a moment, my eyes widening. Maybe they’ll actually think that. I gnaw at the inside of my cheek. He had a heart attack; I couldn’t have caused that, but my worry refuses to subside. The policeman jerks his head back in my direction and I stumble away from the door. Then my legs give out and I collapse onto the carpet.
Eventually I get my hiccuping sobs under control. I smooth my trembling hands over my trousers several times before clenching and unclenching my fists. My heartbeat races and I think of the strange electric shock the old man gave me. It felt more powerful than static and I wonder if it had something to do with his heart attack. It’s a ridiculous notion, of course: heart attacks aren’t contagious. Perhaps it was psychosomatic. I rub my chest. Whatever it was, it’s gone now, just like the old man. His slack jaw and unseeing eyes are seared into my memory. His poor family. He had to be visiting one of my neighbours. I make a point of knowing who lives around me and he wasn’t one of them.
There was nothing I could have done. The thought doesn’t help me feel any better. I return to the door and check the spyhole again. Both the path and the pavement are clear; even the Chairman has vanished.