Watching Edie: The most unsettling psychological thriller you’ll read this year. Camilla Way

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СКАЧАТЬ it too and I wonder if that’s why he got it out now, so that we would notice it and be impressed.

      The door to Connor’s flat is at the end of a long row of identical blue ones and we have to traipse along an outdoor walkway to get to it. Above us light bulbs fizz and flicker in little wire cages. If you lean over the metal barrier you can see right across Fremton and down to the roofs of the cars whizzing past below. We stop outside his flat and hear the thud of music from within, which blasts out at us when he opens the door. He leads us through to the lounge, past an empty bedroom with mattresses on the floor, a kitchen with a sink full of beer cans and a bathroom with a broken toilet. I imagine my mum’s face if she knew I was in a place like this and glance over at Edie but she’s looking around herself with bright, excited eyes as if it is in fact the Ritz he’s brought us to.

      In the lounge a very thin ginger boy is stretched out on the sofa wearing only his boxer shorts. He’s asleep, despite the music. Connor kicks his foot and he sits up, dazedly rubbing his face, his ribs protruding beneath white, freckled skin. ‘All right, Rabbit?’ Connor says, and he nods sleepily, yawning widely and running both hands over his bristly carrot-coloured hair.

      Edie sits on the sofa and I perch on its edge, as far away from the ginger boy as I can. The beige corduroy fabric is covered in stains, and by my feet a large plate that’s been used as an ashtray spills cigarette ends on to the carpet. There’s a smell in the air of old food and stale beer.

      ‘You want a drink?’ Connor asks, then has to repeat himself over the noise. ‘Got some vodka if you want?’

      Edie nods and flashes him a smile.

      He looks at me but I shake my head, and he shrugs and leaves the room.

      ‘All right, girls?’ the ginger lad says, grinning now, and I suddenly notice the size of his front teeth. He’s got the same thick local accent as Connor, which makes them both, in my opinion, sound a bit stupid, and he’s rolling some tobacco into a cigarette paper. It’s only when he lights it and the putrid stink fills the air that I realize what it is. He passes it to Edie and I’m shocked when she takes it from him. I know about marijuana from a talk they gave at school. Perhaps she doesn’t realize. Perhaps I should warn her. I watch her closely in case she passes out or collapses or something and I need to call an ambulance. I wish we’d never come.

      When Connor returns he sits next to Edie, passing her a half-full bottle of vodka. Rabbit wanders off and I get up and look out of the window, at the fields stretching out beyond the motorway. The rain has passed and the sky is a brilliant blue again, the sun bouncing off the roofs of the cars. I perch on an armchair and watch as, across the room, Edie laughs and twirls her hair then leans into Connor, putting her head on his shoulder. I can tell she’s a bit drunk. They’re talking and laughing but I can’t hear what about because the music’s too loud. Suddenly they both stand up, Connor pulling Edie after him towards the door. She looks at me and holds up a hand, fingers splayed. ‘Five minutes,’ she mouths, giggling. The door closes behind them and I’m left sitting on my own, the music thumping on around me.

      A minute slowly passes, then another and another. Restlessly I go to the window again and look out, biting my thumbnail and hoping Rabbit doesn’t come back. When ten minutes have gone by I turn the stereo down, craning my ears to listen for Edie’s voice. Nothing. I don’t know what to do. My stomach twists anxiously. Is she all right? What if he’s locked her in somewhere and she needs my help? At last I creep to the door and stand out in the hallway until I hear the low murmur of voices.

      One of the bedroom doors is ajar and I tiptoe over to it and look through. I see Edie lying on the mattress with Connor. As I watch, he slips a hand under her dress, pulling down her knickers. Shock reverberates through me. I hold my breath, feeling my skin burn as he reaches up and begins to touch her there. She gives a low moan, her eyes closed, her face flushed. I can’t move, a painful lump in my throat making it hard to breathe.

      And then a sound behind me makes me jump and turn around. Standing a few feet away is Rabbit, his eyes fastened on me, a slow smirk of realization spreading across his face as his gaze flicks away from my face to where Edie’s lying on the bed. I stumble backwards, heat coursing through me, and go back to the lounge, and though I don’t know why, hot tears prickle my eyes as I sit down again to wait.

       After

      I’m about to go to bed when the first contraction comes. I stand clutching the bathroom sink while the sudden, searing pain almost knocks me from my feet. The baby is on its way. And though I’ve prepared for this for weeks, and know exactly what steps I’m supposed to follow, I can only stand motionless, frozen in disbelief, light-headed with fear. At last the pain passes and I stare at my reflection in the mirror, hollow-eyed with panic.

      Get a grip, Edie, come on. I know that it could be hours before the next one comes. I pace restlessly around my flat, my chest tight with anxiety, then for something to do, double-check the bag that’s been packed and ready in the hallway for several days. I read through my midwife’s notes, though I already know them mostly by heart. I am not to call the hospital until the contractions are ten minutes apart. Until then I am to monitor them: how frequent, how long they last, how intense the pain, and in the meantime I must try to relax and keep calm. I make myself get into bed and turn the TV on, forcing myself to focus on the screen.

      It’s nearly two hours later when the next one comes. I lie doubled up in bed, gritting my teeth through the pain. I have never felt so horribly alone. For a desperate moment I think about calling Heri, but even before the thought has properly formed I know that I never could, that it’s far too late for that – besides, I’d deleted his number months ago. I suddenly long to hear my mother’s voice and get up to search frantically through old shoeboxes and drawers for the little folded piece of paper with her number on that I know I have tucked away somewhere. Eventually I sink to the floor without it, sobbing into my hands, remembering the disgust on her face the last time we saw each other, knowing I’ll never call.

      I thought I’d be able to do this. I’d told myself it would be OK. But as I look at the empty, waiting cot, the packets of nappies and the second-hand car seat in the corner, the world seems to shrink away and I’m overwhelmed by the enormity of getting through it all alone. I have no one. And yet how can this be? I’d had friends in Manchester, a gang of girls from school I’d been devastated to leave behind when my mum moved us to Fremton. But once I’d met Connor, nothing else had mattered. After it was all over and I had moved to London the memory of Heather and what had happened between us had meant I’d kept my distance from other people, turning my back on any friendships that came my way. And now here I am. I feel as though I’m on the edge of a cliff, about to leap, and there’s no one to catch me as I fall.

      It’s an endless, sleepless night. For a long time I stand at the window looking out at the street, watching as it gradually clears of life, the darkness thickening, only the occasional sweep of a car’s headlights or the odd solitary figure to show me that anyone else exists in the world but me. I think of my Uncle Geoff, but the thought of his panic if he was summoned now almost makes me smile.

      When the next contraction comes in the early hours of the morning it’s so painful and frightening that I call the hospital, too desperate to wait any longer. When I finally get through to the duty midwife, her voice with its strong London accent is calm and kind. ‘Is there anyone with you? The baby’s father?’

      I gulp back a sob. ‘No,’ I say. ‘He’s not involved.’

      ‘I see. Well not to worry. Can you call a friend, a relative perhaps? Someone to wait with you, help СКАЧАТЬ