Chapter 9

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He hurled the door shut with a loud bang and threw himself onto his bed. He pressed his face against the pillow in anguish, as he tried to stop the tears. What had he done? Had he really misinterpreted her signals so badly?

After what seemed like hours, he sat up, ashamed, and distraught. He had ruined everything. She would probably never speak to him again now. He felt so embarrassed, so exposed.

From nowhere, he heard an impatient voice, shouting outside his door.

"Paul? Paul! I'm coming in."

It was his mother, evidently having just arrived home. He hadn't heard the car drive up, or the door open. He hadn't even heard her walking upstairs. Such was his despair, he felt disconnected from the real world, dwelling only in his terrible replay of what had just taken place, down the road.

He got up slowly and weakly, hoping that she would not notice that he had been crying, and opened the door to her.

"You haven't been sulking up here all night have you? I hope you've done the washing up like I told you to."

"Yes Mum, I did it." Before he went over to see Jenny.

She left the room, leaving the door ajar behind her. He realised that the darkness in the house had caused her to overlook his teary eyes. He called her back.

"Mum?"

Her footsteps stopped. "You're a nuisance, Paul. What do you want?" She re-entered the room, muttering angrily to herself. "Honestly, I'll be glad when you finally move out."

Paul sighed. "I'm going out tomorrow. To Zamian's."

"Mmm," growled his mother. "But you can stay in tonight. I can't believe you were out so late last night! I hope you didn't sneak out this evening, Paul."

"No Mum." If only she knew.

"Now leave me alone. I've had a bad day. I can't be doing with you whinging at me all night."

Paul said nothing as his mother turned away. She was not in the best of moods. As she thundered downstairs, he prayed that Jenny would understand.

* * * * * * * *

Paul saw the post on the doormat just in time. There was a letter, or card, or something, for him. Strange. He never got any post. Maybe it was more hate-mail from Baby.

He shoved it into his jacket pocket before his mum could see it.

"I'm off out, Mum."

She appeared from the kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

"I told you. Zamian's. I said last night."

"Right," she said. "I'll expect you here when I get in from work, though."

It was the first day of September, and the wind was so much more chilling than the week before. Setting off, at first watched by his mother, Paul planned what he would do.

He had to visit Claire's house, to see what the latest news on her disappearance was. Although he himself was not directly involved, he felt that he was now, emotionally if nothing else.

He thought that he should drop in on Baby, too, for an explanation of that menacing note he had been sent. But he knew that he would have to avoid Jenny the best that he could, for his own sake. He would not be able to face her after the humiliation of yesterday night. Not yet.

Replaying events in his head, as he approached Claire's house, he was now concerned that, for whatever reason, Jenny had been pretending to be interested in him. And had now decided she couldn't go through with it. He couldn't for the life of him think why she would put herself in that situation though. Perhaps he was being paranoid.

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