‘So,’ Sarah said. ‘The pain. Is it worse at certain times of the day? Or during certain activities?’
‘When I’m driving,’ he said. ‘Or sitting for long periods.’
‘Do you sit for long periods?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Do you work, Mr Davies?’
‘Derek,’ he said. ‘Call me Derek. And I used to work. I was a finance clerk, but I lost my job at Christmas.’ He shook his head. ‘Can you believe it? They fired me at Christmas. I’ve not been able to find a new job since. No one wants someone my age, not these days. They want kids.’
It was, she thought, an explanation for his numerous visits to the doctor’s office. He had too much time on his hands and needed something to do. She glanced at his hand; no wedding ring. Perhaps he also needed company.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘It sounds like sciatic pain. The sciatic nerve runs down your leg and it can become irritated if the muscles in your hip and leg get too stiff. I’m going to suggest some physical therapy. The PT will give you some stretches, which should help. Do you get much exercise, Mr D— Derek?’
He shook his head.
‘Do you have hobbies?’
‘Computer stuff, mainly. I like some of the games. You know Minecraft?’
‘I’ve heard of it,’ Sarah said, even though she hadn’t. ‘But I’m not familiar with it.’
‘You build worlds,’ Mr Davies said. ‘Which you control.’
‘Sounds fascinating. Do you spend a lot of time playing it?’
‘You don’t really play it. It’s about the world you create. You’re like a puppet master.’
Sarah had an image of him staring at his computer in the dark, his face illuminated by the glow from the screen as he built and managed his imaginary world.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘You might want to limit the time you spend sitting down. Maybe take a walk every day for thirty minutes, or even two walks.’
He frowned. ‘Is that all?’ he said. ‘You don’t want to take a look?’
‘I’m not sure what I would see,’ she replied, and smiled. ‘The receptionist will make your PT appointment.’
At lunchtime she drove to the pet store. The man behind the counter led her to a large tank filled with hundreds of goldfish.
‘Fifty cents apiece,’ he said. ‘You’ll need a tank and some food, as well as a bottle of the anti-chlorine stuff. Tap water has chlorine in it; it needs to be neutralized or it’ll kill the fish. We can drink the stuff but a fish can’t.’ He shrugged. ‘Go figure.’
In total it was nearly twenty dollars. A fifty-cent fish with a nineteen-dollar tank. The man laughed when she pointed it out.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but if the fish dies, it’s only another half-dollar to replace it.’
‘And they all look the same,’ Sarah said. ‘So the kids will never know it’s a new one.’
The man gave her a strange smile. ‘You’d think so,’ he said. ‘But it turns out kids always know. In my experience they pay attention to the details much more than we do. They can tell the difference between one fish and another pretty darn good. Best to come clean, tell ’em the fish died, and let ’em pick another.’
‘Well,’ Sarah said. ‘Either way, it’s still only fifty cents.’
‘That, ma’am, is the truth,’ the man said. ‘Now enjoy your fish.’
On the way out, the man had told her to fill the tank, then put the fish – keeping it in the plastic bag full of water he had put it in – in the tank, so the water in the bag and the water in the tank could come to the same temperature. Then, after a few hours, she could pour the fish into its new home.
She didn’t want to do this at work, so she stopped at home and followed his instructions. On the way out, she waved to the fish. It already felt like one of the family. The kids were going to love it.
That evening, as she was leaving work, she got a notification on her phone informing her she had been tagged in a post. She tapped on the link.
It was in a post from Sarah Havenant. The Fake Sarah. No photo this time; just her name, as part of a new post.
A post which read:
Got my goldfish! She’s a beauty!
Sarah stopped at the front door of the medical center. Her head spun and she felt close to passing out. She sat on one of the benches by the door. Before smoking was entirely banned on the premises it was where smokers had sat, and it still had faint traces of the acrid smell of cigarettes.
June, one of the nurses, tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Are you OK, Dr Havenant?’
Sarah nodded. ‘I’m fine. Thanks.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I didn’t have lunch. Low blood sugar.’
The nurse walked into the medical center. When she came out she was holding one of the lollipops they gave to kids.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘Have this.’
Sarah sat in the car. She was cold, her mind blank.
There was no doubt now. Whoever this was, they were doing it to get her attention.
They were fucking with her. They were deliberately trying to mess with her head.
And it was working.
Worse, they knew she had been to the pet store. They had been there and seen her walk out with a goldfish in a bag.
Whoever was doing this was watching her.
Hands shaking, legs weak, she started the car. She had to get home, and she had to get there immediately.
Ben’s car was in the driveway when she pulled up. She could hear the kids playing in the backyard.
She went into the house and walked through to the kitchen. Ben was closing the oven door.
‘Baked potatoes,’ he said, and smiled at her. ‘I’ll make some burgers on the grill.’
‘I didn’t know we were having burgers,’ Sarah said.
‘I needed to distract the kids,’ Ben replied.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We had a bit of a nasty surprise when we got home.’
Sarah’s mouth went dry. She felt the blood rush from her face. What now? What had Fake Sarah done now?
‘What kind of surprise?’ she said, her voice little more than a croak.
‘Are you OK?’ Ben said.
She wasn’t, but she nodded. ‘What surprise?’
‘There was a dead fish floating in a bag,’ he said. ‘At first they were excited when they saw it, then they started to ask why it wasn’t swimming. They figured it out pretty quickly. Faye had a bit of a meltdown. Hence the burgers. I promised bacon and avocado on top as well.’
Sarah relaxed, a little. ‘A dead fish is all?’ she said. ‘I thought – I thought it might be worse.’
‘Worse?’ Ben said. ‘Why were you expecting worse?’
The skin around Sarah’s eyes