Saving Kitty - completed

Chapter 8

Chapter eight

"Phoebe, Phoebe... your phone's ringing!" Aunt Martha called from the landing.

Bloody hell I must have left my mobile in the kitchen... Phoebe jumped to her feet and dashed out into the hall way, she took the ringing phone from her aunt.

"Hello?"

"I was just about to ring off, it's your mother!"

"Hi, you alight?" Phoebe sensed there was something wrong, "what's the matter?"

"Probably nothing, but I've had a worrying call from your friend Anne, I think you had better call her."

"Is she hurt, has there been an accident?" Phoebe felt sick.

"No, nothing like that, Phoebe are you sure there was nothing taken from your house?"

"My house? Yes I'm sure... why?"

"I'm not sure myself what has happened, she rang me by mistake I think she thought she was calling you, she sounded upset and confused. You'd better ring her."

"I'll do it now, thanks, mum." Shaking with worry for her friend, Phoebe hung up on her mum and dialled Anne's number. Meanwhile, James had appeared suddenly and had come to stand on the landing too and was watching Phoebe's every reaction and listening to her conversation. He frowned with quizzical concern.

The phone rang several times before her friend picked up, "Anne, is that you? It's Phoebe, what on earth is wrong?"

"Hi, sorry I think I rang your mum instead of you earlier," Anne giggled nervously. "I think I've met your Josh."

Phoebe's heart stopped for a second before restarting and beating at an alarming rate, "Josh, where? How? When?"

"This guy turned up on my doorstep this morning at the most ridiculous time I might add!"

"Tell me everything..." Phoebe's mouth was drier than a sand pit, she turned away from James's gaze and left him standing in the hallway, Phoebe pulled her bedroom door.

"6.30 this morning the doorbell rang, several times, I was fast asleep, Gary was due home from his shift, so I thought it was him and he'd forgotten his key again," Anne paused for breath, "but it wasn't him."

"What did he look like?"

"Like a sweaty, greasy 40-year-old Harry Potter, with thicker rimmed glasses."

"Oh my God, that's him... what did he say? How did he know where you live?"

"Remember the Christmas card I send you with us as children dressed up as elves, it had my new address in it, well, he showed it to me."

"I don't understand..." Phoebe drew a sharp intake of breath, "it was on my fridge, he must have taken it!" A bead of sweat trickled down her cheek. "It was all such a mess I didn't even notice it was missing."

"He said that he was worried about you that you and that you worked together and you've not been seen for a few days, and wanted to contact you."

Phoebe's throat felt suddenly quite dry and the air from her lungs felt as if it was being squeezed out, "what did you say?"

"I said that I didn't know where you were and that I had no way of getting in touch with you," Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief.

"He freaked me out, he was nervous, had like... this dodgy twitch, and he stank like he'd not washed in days. Luckily Gary turned up, as soon as he saw him, he scuttled off, muttering to himself. But, there's something else though..."