Text from Antonio:
Hi Daisy. You can stop stressing about Olivia. She messaged me earlier and said she was just heading to the chemist to stock up. So at least she's getting out now. It's all good!!!
"Fuck!" I grabbed the car keys while desperately trying to get my feet into my trainers, without undoing the laces. "Gotta go!"
"What the hell?" said John, coming down the stairs.
"It's Olivia! I think she's …… God John ….. I think she's going to do away with herself."
"Come on, Daisy. You can't go jumping to conclusions like that."
"It's obvious John. She's got a shitload of medication and a bottle of vodka right beside her bed, for Christ's sake! She's been saying that there's no point to anything, for days now. It's the only possible explanation."
"My God! Still ….. it doesn't necessarily mean ….."
"I can't take any chances, John. I should have seen this coming. WHY didn't I see this coming?"
"Well, try not to be too long, Daisy. I've got to go out on my delivery round, thanks to you."
"John! A woman's life is hanging in the balance here. I only hope I'm not too late."
Blood was pumping in my ears, as I pulled into the underground car park at Olivia's complex, my stomach leaden. On the ten minute drive over, I'd worked out a vague plan of action. I dialled her number first, to tell her that I was there. As I feared, there was no answer. I had no time to waste with any more calls. I legged it around to the main doors and pressed the buzzer. No reply. Oh God! Oh God! I tried again. No response. It was then that a man, decked out in a mask, visor and gloves came cautiously along the pavement and stopped several feet away, clearly waiting for me to finish with the intercom. I stood back, trying to muster an innocent-looking smile as he keyed in a code, unlocking the door. I managed to catch its handle before it fully closed, as the man disappeared into a ground floor flat, oblivious under all that headgear, of the fact that he'd assisted me in gaining entry.
I dashed up the stairs to the first floor and down the long corridor. I'd been here only once before but I remembered Olivia's flat being at the far end. I rang the bell. No response. I texted. No response. I knocked. No response. Was there a caretaker or security manager around? Any contact numbers anywhere? I desperately ran along the corridor, scanning the walls for notices giving emergency information. There were none. I was left with little choice:
- I dialled 999.
- I continued hammering on the door and yelling, "Oliviaaaaaa!" while I awaited the arrival of the emergency services.
- Throughout this, I continually dialled Olivia's number in the hope that she'd pick up.
- At least five or six dogs started barking from different parts of the building.
- A lady came out of the flat across the hall and told me to keep my voice down as I was disturbing her enjoyment of 'Loose Women'.
- I held off on the door-hammering and called through the letterbox instead, crying by this time, certain that she was already dead.
Then suddenly, out of the blue …… Olivia answered her phone.
"Olivia? Thank God ….."
"Daisy …. what the hell? I've just seen that I've got fifteen missed calls from you! Way too much, Daisy. It's like having an actual stalker."
"Open the door, Olivia!"
"What door? Hang on. Let me call you back when I get up to my apartment. There's something going on up on my floor. Someone's shouting and making everyone's dogs bark!Huh? Next thing:
- The lift pinged behind me.
- Olivia stepped out of it, carrying two bags of shopping - she looked her usual immaculate self, in bright pink canvas jeans, crisp white shirt and a face full of make up.
- I heard a police radio approaching in the stairwell.
Shit!
Under normal circumstances, I would have been furious with John's greeting of, "For God's sake, Daisy! Where the hell have you been? I promised Margaret that I'd get my deliveries done by half three!" but in this case, I was relieved that I wasn't invited to explain the goings-on at Olivia's. I poured myself a HUGE glass of red, so that by the time John came back, looking like he'd single-handedly fought the Taliban, I was nicely numb.
"It was crazy, Daisy. Crazy!"
"Ha! That rhymes!" I remember pointing out, and John went off to get a shower, shaking his head in disgust.🍷
Comments
Post a Comment