Copycat

As Becky and Sean walked away, Jean handed Sarah a can of seltzer water.

‘God,’ she said. ‘I find it so annoying.’

‘What?’ Sarah said. ‘That they’re having a baby?’

‘No, of course not. It’s when people say “we’re pregnant”. It’s the woman who’s pregnant. There’s no “we” about it.’

‘Well,’ Sarah said. ‘I think we can forgive them. And I have to say, I take a bit of extra pleasure since it was the result of my matchmaking efforts. They seem really in love.’

‘They do,’ Jean said. ‘And by the way – next time you have an eligible bachelor show up, send him my way, would you?’

‘Sure,’ Sarah said. ‘You’re next on my list.’

‘Thanks,’ Jean said. ‘Hey, I meant to ask. Did anything come of the Facebook thing?’

Sarah felt the warm glow fade from the day.

‘No. The account was shut down. But not before one more post.’

‘Oh? What about?’

‘I went to buy a goldfish at lunchtime. Sometime in the afternoon there was a post about it.’

Jean shook her head. ‘How would they know?’

‘I’ve no idea. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I’m not even sure who would know. Someone would have had to follow me.’

‘Who?’

‘A patient, maybe?’ Sarah said. ‘Someone who I’d seen?’

‘Which is half the town,’ Jean replied.

‘There was one guy who I saw yesterday. He was a bit weird with me. He’d waited for two weeks to get an appointment, and there was nothing really wrong with him.’

‘You think he followed you?’ Jean looked doubtful.

‘I don’t know. I doubt it. But he was my last patient before I got the fish, and it’s not the first time he’s been in. It’s like the fourth appointment he’s made since Christmas.’

‘Odd,’ Jean said. ‘What I can’t figure out is who could be doing it.’

‘I know,’ Sarah said. ‘That’s the mystery.’

Rachel raised an eyebrow. ‘One person who it could be – and I’m not saying it is or even that I think it would ever be – is Ben.’

There was a long pause.

‘I don’t think so, Jeannie,’ Sarah said. ‘I mean, it’s possible. But Ben?’

‘I agree. I’m only saying he would have known, and had access to the photos.’

‘I know. But why?’

‘I don’t know. But stranger things have happened. You remember my husband, right? None of us saw that coming.’

‘True. But I don’t think so. And the account’s gone now. It was probably some mistake.’

‘I hope so,’ Jean said. ‘I really hope so.’

14 (#ulink_e932bc6c-f63e-5d28-9fae-1cfa674fe053)

A beach day. Soaking up the rays with the family. Those three beautiful children. Her sturdy British husband with his pale skin and emerging pot-belly and baffled expression.

She loves them. They are the most important thing in the world to her. Nothing unusual. For most people all around the world, it’s true.

Not for everyone, though. She will find out about that later.

But for now she is happy. The weird thing with Facebook has gone away. It is still a worry, of course it is, but at least it has stopped. It’s like a rainstorm you drive through: once it’s behind you, it’s still there, but in the rearview mirror. It is receding. A shadow. No longer a problem.

But it can come back. The weather can change. The wind can switch direction. So you better not take your eye off of it for too long.

But people do. It is what she will do. It is natural. The strange thing happens, the surface of the pond is disturbed, but then the ripples vanish, and the water settles and all trace of them is gone.

Out of sight, out of mind.

But whatever caused them is still there, under the black water. Maybe a long way away, deep and safe.

Or maybe just below the surface …

So she is enjoying her beach day with her loving family. The family at the center of her life. The family she does it all for.

The family she barely deserves.

The family she will lose.

15 (#ulink_0fc6729f-8e79-5fd7-ac94-e0f0babae97f)

Sarah was finishing a quick coffee in the break room at work when her phone rang. It was Anne, her college friend. She was due to see a patient in a few minutes, but she picked up the phone.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘How are you? I have an appointment coming up, so I can’t talk for too long.’

‘I’m good,’ Anne said. ‘Enjoying summer. It’s been lovely up here.’

‘Up here’ was Burlington, Vermont, where Anne was a high-school science teacher. She was married to her college boyfriend, Don; they’d had kids early. Melanie, who was ten, and Parker, who was eight.

‘I wish I had your holidays,’ Sarah said. ‘It must be amazing.’

‘Mel’s at her first sleep-away camp this week, and Parker’s always with his buddies, biking round the neighborhood. Don’s working, so I have a lot of alone time.’