A Question of Sanity: Chapter Four B: RIP Eleanor Erikson

When the doorbell rang, Ellie groaned.

‘Show, George, please,’ she waited for the security cam program to click open. There was the usual three seconds of black-screen and then, nothing.

‘Show, please, George,’ she said again, the irritation back in her voice.

‘Security program open, Ellie,’ he replied.

‘Well, it’s not working,’ she grumbled, as though it was feasible to argue with a computer. ‘Are you sure you set it?’ She got up and made her way to the hall.

As she opened the door, she looked puzzled, nobody was there. Her feet knocked against something on the doorstep and she looked down. Lying on the ground was a circular wreath dressed with green ivy and white lilies. Alerted to a feeling of danger and of being watched, she glanced up and saw the piece of black material thrown over the surveillance camera. She wondered why George hadn’t told her that somebody was messing with the camera. The new programme still needed some tweaking and extra security downloads. She made a mental note to attend to it. Whoever had left this, didn’t want to be seen. Ellie was trembling as she bent to pick up the wreath. Rob’s joke about a stalker seemed too close to home but, whoever it was, they scored no points for originality. What would be next? Unordered pizza deliveries and tonnes of horse manure emptied onto the drive?

Matt rushed into the living room, alerted by the sound of his girlfriend crying. Ellie was sitting on the settee with the wreath on her knee, staring at the card that she turned over and over between her fingers. Questions filled her brimming eyes as she looked to Matt for the answers he couldn’t give.

‘Why would anybody do this to me? I’ve never hurt anyone and I always put money in the Barnardo’s envelopes. Why would somebody want to persecute me like this? I mean, if they want me dead it’s not as though they’re going to have to wait long, is it?’

Matt didn’t know what to say so he sat down beside her and pulled her body to him. Taking the card from her, he read the words, trying to make sense of what was happening but nothing gelled. Their world had not only turned upside down but it was spiralling towards some distant galaxy of which they had no understanding.

‘It’s some sicko that’s read the papers today, love. That’s all. Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out. And when I find the twisted bastard who did this, I’ll knock his bloody head off his shoulders.’

He read the card for a second time, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

RIP: Eleanor Erikson.

Further to the hand-written inscription were the printed words, ‘In deepest sympathy’ and the Send Some Flowers company logo and telephone number.

‘I don’t know what’s happening, Ellie, but I’m going to find out.’ Matt’s words were clipped and terse with a seething anger. ‘This is sick.’

Although Ellie had the voice activated telephone system installed, it could be over-ridden and the handset used in the normal way if privacy was preferred. Matt didn’t need to make the call in private, but he was blazing mad and Ellie could see that it gave him a feeling of control. She knew that he could channel his anger into a telephone handset rather than just talking into air. He had to feel the comforting hardness of the plastic telephone receiver in his hand. He stabbed out the number; his right temple throbbing, his blond fringe fell over his left eye and Ellie knew that he was furious.

After a couple of seconds the connection was made.

‘Ah, yes, I wonder if you could help me, please.’ He spoke calmly and pleasantly but the tension was audible in his voice. ‘We’ve just had a delivery from your shop and I wonder if you could check your records and tell me where it’s come from, please? Yes, it was a wreath with white lilies. What do you mean; you have no record of such a delivery? Yes of course I’m sure that it was ordered through your shop. I have the card in front of me. I don’t know who delivered it, do I? They just left it on the doorstep. That is something to take up with your delivery person then. Well, I’m afraid he did just leave the delivery on the doorstep, and my partner is, rightly, very upset. I’m sorry but you’d better check your records again. My girlfriend’s just taken delivery of a funeral wreath announcing her death. I can assure you that she’s very much alive.’ He stumbled a little over the next statement because he had no idea what was happening and was trying to combat the urge to take his feelings out on the lady on the other end of the telephone. ‘And, well…it’s somebody’s idea of a sick joke and I’d like to know who that someone is, please. Yes, I’ll hold. Yes, that’s right, Cherry Tree Cottage. Oh, right. Personally collected? Her uncle George? Cancer? Yes, that’s okay, so sorry to trouble you. Yes. I do apologise. Thank you very much. Yes, I’ll be sure to do that. I will. Yes, I agree, grief is a funny thing. I apologise for any misunderstanding.Thank you. Goodbye.’

He slammed the receiver back onto its carriage with enough force to send the phone crashing to the floor. Ellie winced.

‘Let’s play twenty questions to guess who our sicko-freak is, shall we?’

Ellie already knew what was coming. She shrank back into the cushions of the settee to get as far away as possible from the vehemence of his words. She’d never seen him so angry.

‘You’ve just made a fool of me again, Ellie. Getting to be a habit with you, isn’t it? Funny, is it? Playing these games, getting everybody jumping through hoops, mad with worry, only to find out that it’s you each and every time. That florist described you to a T. You Ellie, you, you, you. Did you think that I wouldn’t recognise your handwriting? Well, of course I damned well did, but I didn’t want to believe it of you. What’s happening to us, Ellie? What’s happening to you? What’s going on?’

He lunged towards her. With each ‘you’, his finger became a foil of accusation and she backed away from him. Matt was the most gentle, loving man she’d ever known. She’d never had any reason to fear him, and yet, now, he was so angry that she hardly recognised him. The last few days had brought so many changes, changes in both of them. Ellie didn’t know what to say.

‘I don’t know what the hell’s happening to you, Ellie, but I do know that I can’t take much more.’

With these words he deflated. The fury was compartmentalised and taken away. A box of misery of exactly the same proportions was put in its place and where the fury had stung, the misery throbbed. Matthew looked wretched.

He walked over to stand by the bookcase and saw a Demons Nightclub matchbook. He didn’t shout or yell, he just picked it up and looked at it back and front. He opened the front flap and looked inside.

‘What’s that?’ asked Ellie, curiosity overcoming her newfound wariness of Matt.

‘Oh, it’s just a matchbook from some club called Demons which you’ve been frequenting. Nothing that your boyfriend should feel threatened about; after all, I’m only the man that you sleep with when you can stand to have me over.’

He said it in a voice so matter-of-fact that it was more frightening than his yelling. Matt’s temple was throbbing and she could see the blood rushing through the blue vein to his brain. His heart was working too hard.

‘I’ve never heard of a nightclub called Demons.’ Still a small voice, but this one was almost out of short pants as the indignation hit her.

‘Course you haven’t, that goes without saying, doesn’t it? I’ve heard of Demons, Ellie. It’s the new club that opened on Greengate Street in Barrow. I thought we might try it sometime when you feel up to it, but you already have, haven’t you?’ The last six words were spoken with a hard edge of bitterness.

‘Honey, I swear, I’ve never been to the rotten club and I’ve never seen those matches before.’

‘Don’t you “honey” me.’ He put the matchbook to his nose, ‘If you’ve never seen them before, why do they smell of your perfume? Answer that one. Or, just sit mute and let me answer for you. Because they’ve been sitting in your handbag, that’s why?’

She buried her face in a cushion and sobbed bitter tears.

‘I don’t know you any more, Ellie.’ Matt sounded sad and confused. ‘Where have all these lies come from? I want to help you, but I don’t know how. This illness has changed you and it’s bigger than both of us. I don’t know what to do any more.’

He threw the matchbook at her. It landed open on her knee. She saw what was written neatly inside the cover.

Better the devil you know.

They argued again, later that morning. Matt wanted her to cancel the meeting with Rob Price but Ellie wouldn’t hear of it, telling him that Rob had cancelled other engagements to meet with her. She realised that they had fought more in the last three days than in the rest of their relationship put together. If she insisted on going ahead with the meeting, Matt said, that he wanted to be with her. That he’d only worry himself sick if he couldn’t be there to keep an eye on her in her present…at this point he was lost for words and stopped talking. Ellie finished it for him.

‘While I’m as nutty as a fruitcake, you mean.’ She couldn’t help grinning at his guilty look.