Girl From the Tree House, стр. 53
“Thank you for that offer. I will be fine.” Another stranger sitting next to me making small talk is the last thing I could tolerate right now. What I need is to be alone and get my thoughts sorted. A slow drive home through the forest is just what I need.
“Promise me to be careful.”
“Thank you, Patrick. I will be.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I know more. It may take a few days.”
I leave the office and half-wave goodbye to Heather who is on the phone. How different the world looks now, even though only half an hour has passed since I arrived. I should celebrate that I never was married to Horace and that Helen has no power over me. But inside me is only confusion.
My whole life has been a scam, an illusion. Not because I’m a multiple. That’s the easy bit to understand. No, because my whole life was built on intricate and cunning lies that feel more real than what I’m facing now. How could they? How could my parents leave me unprotected and put me in the hands of these crooks?
Tears well up in my eyes. Only when I leave Patrick’s office behind me do I feel safe again. I can’t get into the van quickly enough. In my van, there are no surprises. In here it’s just me and Prince. He waits for me and greets me with a nose-nudge and a thumping tail. I throw my arms around him and breathe into his fur. At least he recognizes who I am, even if I don’t.
I start the motor and maneuver out of the parking lot, almost scraping the sides of two black hatchbacks parked on the opposite side of the road. I stop and dry my eyes with a tissue. I don’t need another accident to round off this morning. I’ve got enough to deal with.
At the next petrol station, I stop to fill the tank before I leave Port Somers. I won’t break any speed records on my way home. At only twenty miles per hour, a long line of cars is building up behind me. That’s slow even for me. I pull myself up and step on the gas. There’ll be time to mope around when I’m back home.
I steer as far to the left as I can to let the following cars pass. Only one black hatchback is staying behind, following me at a safe distance. It looks like one of the cars that was parked opposite Patrick’s office. That’s odd. My heartbeat increases.
“Don’t be such a stupid twit,” I shout through the van so that every single part of me can hear what I have to say. “Stop being paranoid.”
I reduce my speed even more. The hatchback does the same. Then I step on the gas and accelerate to the speed limit of sixty miles per hour. The hatchback must have sped up too because it’s still behind me, keeping the same distance as before. I no longer feel paranoid. I am paranoid. They are after me. Whoever they are. They followed me from Patrick’s office.
The turnoff to Flatbush Creek Road can’t come quick enough. The road is so curvy; I can’t see whether I’m still followed. I race down the gravel road, past the turnoff to my house, and drive straight to Scott’s place. I can’t think of anything else to do.
Chapter Twenty
Lilly: 30 November 2015, Midday, Scott’s Place
So, this is Scottie’s place. I didn’t have time to peek at it when Elise dropped him off the other day. I’m not impressed. The rough, hewn tree trunks of the outside wall have weathered from light brown to dark black. Some areas are patched up with planks and I wonder how dry it is inside during the typical West Coast winter storms. A rusty corrugated iron roof extends off the front and gives extra shelter from any rain. The hut can’t be bigger than three hundred square feet, large enough for one person.
After I let Prince out, I need to stretch. I feel itchy as if I need to get used to my skin all over again. That often happens when I come into the body after Elise. It’s as if you slip into a coat that shrunk in the wash. I’m afraid I’ll have to get used to it because it appears, she and I are becoming bosom buddies.
Don’t ask me why because we are like chalk and cheese. If I could choose a sidekick, I would go for Amadeus. We complement each other well. He has grit and isn’t afraid of anything. Yip, that’d be a good match. Elise is more like a floppy doll, without a spine to hold her upright. To be fair, not all the time. But when she flops, it’s inconvenient. She’s also very naïve. Hasn’t that girl gotten any brains?
Take this morning. Patrick’s revelations threw her. Okay, I admit it we are all pretty stunned. I mean, hey, you don’t wake up one morning expecting to find out your marriage of over twenty-four years was a big hoax. But we knew something was fishy. Something was wrong. I bet Horace and Helen, brother and sister my foot, found a way to siphon-off the Seagar money.
Why else would they take in a young child? Not for the love of children. There was no love the way they both treated Elise. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put one and one together. How they got away with it is the million-dollar question. We underestimated them, a mistake that cost us dearly. For twenty years Horace and Helen kept the charade up. We all thought they were stupid yet during all that time they were the ones pulling our strings.
Then Elise races over the unsealed road as if the devil is at her heels. Even if the devil was in the car following her, doesn’t she know we are not helpless, for crying