Watching You

by Lisa Jewell

But a shadow of him lingered on in her consciousness.

What else could he possibly do with all these brains, all these facts, the constant spin and bubble of his brilliant mind? It had to go somewhere.

“Your head teacher. That superhead. It’s him up there taking photos. I’m sure it is. And you know who else seems to be living up there now? That woman I told you about, the one who was on that tour with us in the Lake District? Remember? It’s all connected. The whole thing is connected, Jen. And it’s just getting bigger and bigger and bigger.”

He nodded but felt quietly anxious. Freddie didn’t like changes in routine; he didn’t like it when unscheduled things happened. He didn’t like the way little holes opened up in the weft of his existence and let other, unexpected things in.

It’s just—and maybe it’s nothing, you know, completely a red herring, but a couple of weeks ago I went out for a beer with Joey after work and she told me she was obsessed with Tom Fitzwilliam. She said… her obsession was driving her insane.

But Jenna wasn’t really engaged with her friend because something was playing on her mind. Something to do with Mr. Fitzwilliam’s watch. The watch with the yellow-and-red strap. Because she’d seen it before, somewhere else, when she was young. And then it came to her: the Lake District. When she was ten. When Ethan was six.

Breathlessly, he clicked on Quick Access to see if files had been opened and then sat back heavily against the back of his chair, all the air leaving his lungs in one bolt. JT1.jpg. JT2.jpg. JT3.jpg. JT&BR1.jpg. JT&BR2.jpg. JT4.jpg. These were his early photos of Jenna Tripp and Bess Ridley. Over a year old, some of them. He hadn’t looked at them in ages. He had not opened these files. Someone else had. And Freddie had no idea who it was.

It’s because of what we saw. Me and my family. Years ago. We saw a woman attack him and he tried to brush it off, tried to say she was just mad. But you know the saying: no smoke without fire. Why would a woman just randomly attack someone in the middle of the Lake District if they hadn’t done anything wrong? Hm?”

She was wearing a black vest and gold chains and she was quite attractive, quite stylish, but her face was distorted with rage and she kind of threw herself at him, threw him up against the side of the coach and was shouting in his face: You fucking bastard, look at you! Just look at you! How can you live with yourself? How can you live with yourself? And she kept saying something about viva.