Deathwatch (6 page)

Was this normal?

A
sound behind Cat made her jump. Someone was coming. She spun round, twisting the laptop away so that her mum or dad wouldn’t see it.

“Angus! DON’T come in without knocking! Creep. Piss off!”

“You’re on Phiz, aren’t you?”

“So? You do it too. Now just get lost, will you?”

“Can I borrow your KJ Martin CD?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Don’t get anything disgusting on it or you’ll have to buy me a new one.”

“Where is it?”

“For God’s sake – here. Now, seriously, piss off!”

She threw the CD case at him and he caught it easily.

“Thanks. And, hey, sis, take a chill pill, why don’t you?”

When she glared at him, he retreated, shutting the door.

She turned back to the laptop. Looked at the screen.

And gasped, her skin going cold as the blood rushed to her heart. The whole screen was taken up with one picture. An enormous spider, its legs almost furry, its eyes still and staring.

Watching her.

Cat shook the mouse and the spider shrank into the corner, occupying the PhizPlace icon. Her screen now looked normal. But her heart was still racing. All her concentration was focused on the screen. Something horrible was happening and she had no idea what it was.

She clicked on the symbol and quickly started typing into the message space.

“hi nice to meet you but i hate spiders. can u change your symbol? PLEASE!!!!”

Silence.

She typed again.
“look sorry but i really really hate spiders!”

Nothing.

She felt cold. A chill crawled down her neck. What had she done? Who had she let into her computer?

But she knew who it was. It had to be – Danny! Danny knew she hated spiders and insects. Danny obviously knew she had started fencing. And Danny was angry with her. Danny would do something like this.

“danny?”

Silence.

“I know its u. Why are u so pathetic?”

“I’m not Danny.”

“who then?”

Silence.

Of course it was Danny.

“who are you?”

Silence.

And now, cold inside, Cat realized something: she actually hoped it was Danny. Because if it wasn’t, who was it?

“Cat? Are you in bed? Computer off? Light off in ten minutes.” Her dad’s voice.

“OK.”

A few moments later, there was a knock on the door. Her mum and dad. Cat minimized the window, instantly replacing it with her homework – though she couldn’t help noticing the spider still watching from the corner. She made a huge effort to turn towards the door with a blank and easy face. As though nothing was wrong. Inside, her thoughts were a storm of confusion. Every sensation was concentrated in her head, until it pounded.

“OK for the morning?” her mum asked. There was a sort of extra brightness in her voice, fake. But Cat just wanted rid of them.

Meanwhile, her heart sank. The morning was Saturday biathlon training. Including a friendly competition between the club members and a few invited from other clubs. She’d almost forgotten. On purpose. It would be cold and her friends would be doing something without her.

But now was
definitely
not the time to have the conversation…

“Yes, fine.” As quickly as she could, Cat got rid of her parents, managing to say good night in such a way that they would not notice anything wrong. Her dad lingered briefly, as if wanting to say something, but Cat glared at him. “
What
, Dad? I’m busy.”

“No need to be rude,” he said, his voice even, before saying good night and leaving.

“Computer off
now
,” repeated her mum as they disappeared downstairs. “I’ll come and check in ten minutes.”

“OK!” Cat knew her mother wouldn’t come and check. Mild fake threats were standard parent strategy.

Her breath released slowly in the emptiness. Back to the screen. She clicked on the symbol.

The spider filled the screen again. It was grotesque. She felt her face screwing up. But she needed to know.

She clicked on the message bit and typed, her fingers tripping over each other:
“so who are you? and sorry but if you dont get rid of that spider then your dumped.”

“That’s not very nice. I heard you were properly brought up.”

“Your not very nice.”

“You don’t know that.”

“OK, you are dumped. sorry but i made a mistake. you messed me around lets call it quits.
”

“Quits? I don’t think so!”

She wasn’t having any more of this. Whoever he was – and she still suspected Danny – he was horrible and she didn’t want to waste her time. She began to zap him, dragging the spider symbol towards the Phiz Dump Bin. As she pulled him towards the bin, relief swept through her. There was nothing to fear from Phiz. Getting rid of unwanted attention was this easy.

Win some, lose some. Never mind. More fish etc.

But as she reached the Dump Bin and let go, the spider span back up into the corner, where it sat, watching again. It seemed to breathe, pulsing slightly, as though it could spring at any moment. Frowning, she tried again. Maybe she’d just let go too soon. But once again, the spider refused to be dumped. Now it appeared across the whole screen again, huge, monstrous, before shrinking to its watching position in the corner.

Cat’s heart began to race again. Her armpits were damp.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, as she dragged it one more time to the Dump Bin.

This time the spider slid into the bin and did not crawl back out. Cat waited for a few seconds to be sure.

No problem. She had no idea why it had been so difficult. She’d never deleted anyone before and maybe this was a feature of Phiz. Maybe you
had
to try three times, so that you didn’t accidentally delete someone. Or she just hadn’t dragged it properly.

Whatever, he was gone now. If it was Danny, she’d find out sooner or later. It must be him. Who else would be so creepy?

Well, a creep, of course. And there were more creeps in the world than Danny. Maybe one of them had found her. Maybe that’s what adults were so paranoid about. Well, they were wrong: she’d got rid of him.

When she began to close down the computer, an error message came up – “The programme is not responding” – and then came code numbers. She tried again. Nothing happened. The screen was frozen. Only one solution: crash the system. She kept her finger pressed on the power button. It seemed to take a very long time to switch off, but eventually, of course, it did.

Blackness. Silence. She breathed deeply.

Cat put the laptop away and got ready for bed. With the light off, and her alarm set for the morning, she lay trying to sleep. She could not get the picture of that huge spider out of her mind. Even with her eyes closed, it was still there. Watching her.

Eventually, sleep came. But at some point during the early hours, the spider entered her dreams. She woke, wet with sweat, her heart racing.

As she reached for a glass of water, Cat McPherson told herself not to be so stupid.

Just a creep and a picture of a spider. Nothing that could possibly affect her if she didn’t let it.

But, in the dark, alone, it’s not that easy. She pulled the duvet over her head. No good. Its voiceless rustling was worse than silence. She plugged her iPod into her ears and listened to anything: she didn’t care what. As the rhythms drummed into her head, she let herself be taken away by the music, holding onto the notes.

She forced the spider guy from her mind.

And, much later, fell asleep.

CAT
and Angus were walking along the canal with Polly. A thin low sun scattered through the trees that Saturday afternoon and Polly was annoyingly interested in the smells along the waterside.

“Hurry up! Stupid dog!” shouted Cat. She wanted to get back home. Too many things to do. She and Angus were supposed to walk Polly once a week, though they usually managed to get out of it. No getting out of it today, though, not with parents still in crabby mood – her mum had been phoned first thing in the morning by some journalist wanting a comment on her article and her dad was giving her the “I-told-you-so” treatment. And Cat and Angus had been subjected to the “parents-being-reasonable-and-seeming-to-tell-their-kids-everything” chat at breakfast, during which Cat had had to pretend she hadn’t overheard their conversation about it already.

It had turned into a full-blown debate, with Angus siding with their mum because she’d stood up for her beliefs and Cat feeling the need to side with her dad who was saying how terrible it was that soldiers risked their lives for their country and then found that their injuries, whether mental or not, were dismissed. And it’s really not what you need at breakfast when you’re about to go to athletics and run in some boring so-called “friendly” competition. And what competition was ever friendly? Then her mum had made her wash up, which Cat suspected was some kind of petty revenge for having sided with her dad. And to cap it all her dad had said he couldn’t take Cat to athletics as he had golf and she had to get the bus because her mum was taking Angus to buy new saxophone reeds because he had
suddenly
realized he had no spares.

The day had continued as lousily as it had started. She’d run badly in the unfriendly competition and had had to deal with sarky remarks from her trainer. So what with parents and trainer, plus Phiz lingering at the back of her mind, not to mention the fact that Angus kept playing air sax as though he thought he was a famous player – something to do with a concert coming up, which no one was allowed to forget – Cat was in no mood for Polly sniffing everything instead of walking properly.

A scruffy barge or houseboat or whatever they were called was moored on the near bank. The sun was behind it, blinding Cat as they approached. She didn’t know if she’d seen it before. She’d never looked that closely at the boats that came and went, and sometimes stayed, along the canal.

Cat wondered what it would be like to live on a houseboat like that.
Did
you live on them? She didn’t know. Maybe you just had them as places to get away from your family. Or maybe you went on trips or holidays. Where did the canal go? Glasgow? She didn’t really know that either.

The vessel didn’t look particularly well cared for, its green paint peeling and a rusty chain hanging from the small deck. The long, low cabin formed most of the length of the boat, a pot of fresh flowers sitting at one end, and a metal ladder up to the roof. Also on top of the cabin, dominating it, was a motorbike, partly covered by a tarpaulin. That was what made Cat notice the barge in the first place – you didn’t expect to see motorbikes on boats.

The tiny deck at the front was filled by a woman sitting on a chair, watching them as they approached. She had a notebook on her lap, a mug of something on the deck beside her, and a bag of crisps in her hand. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter lay beside the coffee mug.

Cat felt observed by her. The woman really was staring. Hadn’t she ever seen anyone walking a dog before?

Then the woman raised her hand, as if waving. It seemed as though she might be about to speak to them. Cat wanted to pass her as quickly as possible. She wasn’t in the mood to make pointless conversation with some stranger. Unfortunately, Polly had other ideas. The bag of crisps was to blame. Polly identified the crunchy sound and the crackling of the packet. She went and stood near the edge of the bank, wagging her tail wildly. Any moment now and saliva would be hanging from her mouth.

“Polly! Come here!”

Polly stood where she was, wagging her tail even more vigorously, suffering a sudden attack of selective deafness.

“Polly!” shouted Cat again, embarrassed.

Then the woman threw a crisp, which Polly caught.
Great
, thought Cat.
Now we’ll never get away
.

“How old is she?” asked the woman.

“Six,” said Angus.

“Labrador?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely dog. I was thinking about getting a dog. For company. Would you recommend a Labrador? Maybe a bit big on a houseboat?”

She seemed to want to talk. It must be lonely living on a boat. She looked about fifty, though it was hard to tell because she was scruffy, her straggling hair the colour of metal streaked with rust.

The woman looked … what? Fragile, Cat thought. And sad, sort of. Her long body was folded into the chair like a crumpled fan. She was thin, in body and face, her cheekbones sharp. There was a small mark on her face, the thin white line of a scar on her cheek. Maybe she had been attractive when she was younger, but it didn’t look as though she cared about that now. It must have been months since she’d seen the inside of a hair salon. And fashion was clearly not her concern.

But it was her eyes that were striking. They gleamed from a dry-skinned face. They seemed to hold the light. It was hard not to look at them, but Cat felt uncomfortable. Pierced by them.

“We should get back,” Cat said to Angus. “Come on, Polly, time to go. Nice meeting you,” she said to the woman, with a polite smile.

“Indeed,” said the woman, staring at her as though she knew how keen Cat was to get away. “Nice meeting you too. Goodbye, Polly. Maybe see you again, eh?” And she waved.

“Weirdo,” muttered Angus to Cat as they turned away.

And they carried on along the towpath.

Cat found herself thinking about the woman, wondering about different people’s lives, how they turn out. When the woman had been fourteen, as Cat was now, did she imagine that in thirty or however many years’ time she’d be living on a cramped, grotty boat with peeling paint and the silty stale smell of canal? Maybe she never wanted to settle down with a normal job, promotion, money, family. But what if she’d had other dreams?

Maybe the woman
was
a weirdo. Or maybe she was just sad.

Cat had a gut-wrench of fear. About her own future. She’d always been told that if she tried hard she’d be successful, have a good life. But now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe it wasn’t that easy. And besides, here she was contemplating giving up the thing she’d dreamed of.