world. Peering through the glass door panel, she was unable to see anyone outside. Whoever had been following her had stayed on the footpath, hidden by the bushes. Trying to dismiss the incident from her thoughts, she walked to the entrance foyer and paused to check her post box. It was empty.
Buying the apartment in Great Stour Court had stretched her financially. Even with her minimal social life, meeting the mortgage payments took much of her income, but she was happy. She loved her new home and she’d splurged her remaining cash on having her bedroom redecorated. She wasn’t sorry, but that additional expense had put a holiday out of the question. It really had been her lucky day when she entered the singles club competition. A chance to meet and mix with bright young professional people on equal terms for fun and maybe romance. Never had twenty – well, actually nineteen – words been so profitable. Gina had been surprised she’d won the Tuscan holiday, but she wasn’t going to complain.
Taking the lift to the third floor, she planned her evening. First, she’d pack, and then have a long soak in the bath before the ready meal, glass of wine and an early night.
Sitting in the kitchen, I hear a key in the lock. The front door opens and closes. Bleeping starts and then stops as the alarm is cancelled. My pulse remains steady despite a brief moment of doubt. I dismiss my unease. It must be Georgina. There’d been no trace of another person and no evidence in the flat, or on her laptop, that she knows anyone who’d have access to her home. Certainly, there’s been no sign of a boyfriend.
I listen as she puts her keys on the side table in the hall. Everything is ready. Georgina is perfect. All will go well. All we need is some time together, time for her to get to know me, to see my worth.
I hear her turn and then pause. She’s noticed the kitchen door’s closed. I’m pleased. She’s bright. The first few moments could be tricky, but I know exactly how I’m going to play this. Aroused by a sense of anticipation, I wait for the kitchen door to open.
Gina opened the door to her apartment and heard the reassuring sound of the alarm. She stepped inside, used her foot to close the door behind her and automatically tapped her code into the pad. Silence. Immediately she felt the warm contentment she always experienced when safely home. She resisted the impulse to look at her newly decorated bedroom; there would be time for that later. Since the workmen had finished, she had gone immediately to admire it every time she came home. Tonight would be different; tomorrow she was flying to Italy.
First things first: wine in the fridge and switch the oven on. Gina put her keys and handbag on the hall table, stepped towards the kitchen and stopped, puzzled. The door was closed. Something wasn’t right. She always left the kitchen door open. Gina shrugged. This morning, preoccupied by thoughts of her holiday, she must have shut it without thinking.
‘I’m here.’
Gina froze.
It was a man’s voice.
Without thinking, she pushed the door open.
Gina was face to face with a man sitting at her kitchen table. He rose to his feet and she recognized his thin, almost emaciated body and the white-blond hair that fell sideways across his forehead.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I’m sorry if I startled you, Ms Hamilton. Mr Smith, Colin Smith … of Decorart, the interior design company. We decorated your bedroom last week.’
He held out his hand, which Gina ignored.
‘Yes, yes, I know who you are. More to the point, what are you doing here now?’
‘A problem arose, Ms Hamilton.’
‘A problem? What problem?’ Gina’s first thought was the money. She was stretched financially, but surely that wasn’t the problem? When she had bought a new dress and two tops for her holiday, she’d calculated carefully that what remained in her account would cover the decorators’ bill. ‘Did I make a mistake with the cheque?’
‘No problem with your cheque. It was our mistake. We inadvertently overcharged you for the work. I’ve come round to refund the balance.’
‘You didn’t need to come in person. A cheque in the post would have been fine.’
‘I wanted to apologize to you directly and I thought this would be a good opportunity to make sure you were completely satisfied with our work. As you know—’
‘Hang on!’ Accustomed to seeing this man in her flat during the redecoration of her bedroom, Gina had lost sight of what was happening. ‘We didn’t have an appointment.’ Anger welled inside her. ‘How dare you come into my home uninvited?’ Spurred by a nascent anxiety she added, ‘This is outrageous.’ Then, before he could answer, a further thought struck her. ‘How did you get in?’
‘With these …’ He reached into his pocket and dangled a set of keys. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to take some photographs for publicity—’
‘Are they my keys?’ Gina desperately tried to think back to when the work was finished and she’d given him the cheque. Had she overlooked getting her keys back in the excitement?
The man continued to speak, ignoring her question. ‘As a thank you for letting us use the photographs I’ve taken the liberty of putting a bottle of champagne in your fridge. I thought we might celebrate the completion of the work.’
‘You’ve done what?’ Gina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘You’ve come into my home uninvited, you’ve brought champagne and you want to celebrate! This is totally unacceptable. Please leave immediately.’
Struck by another thought, Gina added, ‘Wait a minute. Where did you get those keys? I took my spare ones back. Look, they’re hanging on the wall.’
‘I had this set cut while the work was in progress.’
‘What? You copied my keys! You can’t just have somebody’s keys copied!’
‘Oh, but I can. These keys are not high security. Anybody can take them to a shoe repair shop and have copies cut in a few minutes.’
‘But you’ve no right. You can’t let yourself into other people’s homes uninvited. Give me those keys and my refund, then leave my home immediately!’
‘It wasn’t like that. You invited me in and you gave me a set of keys so that I could return when you weren’t here.’
‘But that was for the decoration of my bedroom. I trusted you to return my keys when the work was finished.’
‘I did return your keys. You said so yourself; they’re hanging on the wall.’
‘Yes, but you’d already had them copied.’ Gina paused, frustrated that the exchange was going in circles. ‘Your behaviour is intolerable. Give me the keys you’re holding and get out of my home.’
He slowly returned the keys to his pocket.
‘I’d rather stay.’
‘Give me those keys and leave immediately!’
‘But the champagne, the photographs—’
‘There’s no question of photographs. You can take the champagne with you.’
‘Let’s not be hasty, Georgina. I may call you Georgina?’
‘It’s