Claustrophobia by Tracy Ryan Page B

them.
    â€˜I’m not bored,’ she said, to compensate. ‘It’s wonderful being here.’
    Kathleen looked surprised at her vehemence, but then smiled again. ‘Can you stay for a while? We could talk about Simenon … Or there’s a movie on SBS.’
    â€˜A French movie,’ Pen nodded, inspecting herself for traces of guilt towards Derrick and finding none. She felt oddly light, as if the inside of her had been emptied out. Maybe it was the strong coffee, this late at night.
    The movie was called Swimming Pool , and turned out to be mostly in English. It was a shocker: slow, corny, and with the kind of dumb twist that makes you feel cheated. An incoherent plot that was just an excuse to pit an older woman against a younger woman, who never seemed to be wearing a shirt. At the end, they looked at each other and laughed.
    â€˜I don’t know why I watched that one all the way through,’ Kathleen said. ‘Must have been the company! If I had been by myself at the cinema, I’d have walked out.’
    â€˜Me too. But sometimes you just keep on with things, don’t you, thinking they’ve got to get better? Even though you know they won’t.’
    Kathleen laughed. ‘Sounds just like life with my ex. Sorry, seems to be the theme of the evening. I’m over it, really.’
    â€˜Were you married?’ Pen said.
    Kathleen cocked her head sideways. ‘No,’ she said, with a curious expression. ‘No, I’ve never been married. You?’
    â€˜Uh-uh.’ Pen stood up and yawned. She looked around her again: amazing to think Kathleen had achieved all this by herself, a single woman. And no silver-spoon beginnings, either – though her mother must have been cultured, which would help … ‘I should probably get going. I’ve got to work tomorrow.’
    The disturbing thing was, Pen didn’t really want to leave at all, but every minute she waited would make it that much harder to conceal things from Derrick. Already he’d be out of his mind with worry, but she wouldn’t be able to ring him until she was well away from Kathleen’s house.
    â€˜We should do it again. Give me a ring – or do you have a mobile?’
    â€˜Actually, no,’ Pen lied. ‘Hideous things.’
    Kathleen grimaced. ‘A necessary evil, I guess. What’s the best number to get you on, then?’
    â€˜ Get me,’ Pen thought, feeling dizzy, but Kathleen’s smile melted her fear somehow, and she said, ‘Just at work. I’m not often home.’
    Derrick picked up after only one ring.
    â€˜I’m just past the city now. I’m sorry, one of the girls had car trouble and I had to run her home.’
    Simple was best, Pen had decided. It wasn’t so much that she liked lying, as that one lie entailed another, in a kind ofchain of necessity. She hadn’t realised how you had to think ahead – once you’d given a false plan, your choices were restricted to the shape of what you’d said. Next time she must leave it more open-ended.
    Next time . What made her even think there would be a next time? Pen’s heart was beating so loudly she feared Derrick could hear it down the phone. A truck whizzed by, too fast and too close to her car.
    â€˜You could have rung sooner.’
    â€˜I’m really sorry, darling – there just wasn’t a good time. I couldn’t pull over …’
    â€˜But you’ve pulled over now, you’re not talking while you drive, I hope?’
    â€˜No.’ She almost snapped at him. She’d never realised before how nannyish Derrick could sound. ‘Look, I’ll be home soon. The sooner I get off the phone, in fact.’
    And then only the hours of night to get through, and then work in the morning for them both.
    As she drove up to the house in the general darkness, Pen saw that Derrick had left the kitchen light on – maybe because the