Chapter 8 Chapter Six

God!Sheila said as she opened the door. What do you think? Of course they are different people.I almost didn't recognize you. I mean exactly that.so can i come inI'm freezing outside!Cold snowflakes fell on my cheeks and nose, and slid down my neck.My freshly cut hair was wet and flat on my head. She stepped back and let me into the warm interior.certainly.god you look how? I have no idea.Get younger. Does it look good? Yes, she said in disbelief.You look petite too, a little smaller.Tea?liquor? liquor.I bought us some beer. Thanks.No, you shouldn't be so polite. Don't thank me, it's your money.But wait for my credit card to arrive at Taylor's residence in the next few days, and I will return it to you as soon as possible.

Not urgent.That reminded me, Terry called. call here? no.Call Sadie, he thought you'd be over there.So Sadie called me and said Terry asked if you could take that big bag he forgot to give you yesterday with your mail and things in it?And the rest of your clothes. good.I'll be there tomorrow. Otherwise he will throw it away. interesting.I'll go now. Now?You don't want to eat something?We are having a party with some friends.Nice couple, Mr and Guy are colleagues, Mrs is in the antique business, I think.Not a big scene, just the four of us.Or rather, five.She braced herself and said it.

It's all right, Sheila.Four is more auspicious.Maybe I'll rush back for a cheese platter. No cheese platter.It's lemon tart. Can you make lemon tart? Yes.She looked shy and proud. Save some for me.Can I use your phone to hail a taxi? certainly.You don't need to ask. I kiss her on both cheeks.You are so kind to me.I promise I won't be here for too long. Taking a taxi around most of London, asking the driver to wait before turning back, costs a handsome fare.I stare nervously at the fare meter as it jumps to double digits.I got £257 from Sheila and Guy and the bank this morning, but after a haircut and a lot of shopping and coffee and taxis I'm down to £79.I'll be down to about sixty pounds again by the end of the evening.

The lights are on in our quarters.It should be Terry's residence.I press the doorbell and wait, then I hear footsteps running down the stairs and a light in the hall comes on. Hello? Hi Terry. Abby?He studied me.Why did you make yourself like this?your hair, that Nope, I know.Can I go in and get my stuff?I'm in a hurry and the taxi is waiting. I'll get it.I put it all in the bag.Wait here.He turned and rushed upstairs.But I didn't want to wait in the freezing outdoors, so I followed upstairs, and we arrived at the same time.There was a fragrant smell in the room, garlic and spicy; there was a bottle of wine on the table, but only half of it was drunk, there were two wine glasses, and two plates of chicken, sprinkled with thin strips of miso. Rosemary and whole cloves.That's my secret recipe, my specialty.I also bought candles.A woman sits there, swirling her wine glass, her beautiful hair flowing forward, glowing in the soft light.She was wearing a dark gray suit and tiny gold earrings.I stood in the doorway, in baggy black trousers and with short mane-like hair, staring at her intently.

I'm going to get all your stuff.Terry said. Won't you introduce us? He muttered a few words, but no one was there. My name is Abby.I said heartily to the woman. Good luck, she said calmly.sally. coming.Terry dragged over the two storage bags with my leftover clothes and handed me the plastic bag stuffed with letters.He flushed all over his face. I have to go, I said, and turned to the woman.Do you know where the blame is?You still look a lot like me. She smiled, polite but suspicious.I don't think so. They were still eating the fish when I lugged the bag back to the kitchen.

Abby, it's back!This is Paul and Yi Ji.Do you want to come together? Hi.I could tell from the way Baoer and Yiji looked at me that they had heard the whole story.Don't worry, I'm not very hungry.I need to check my mail.I held up the torn plastic bag.Found some clues, huh?They all laughed uncomfortably and exchanged glances.Sheila blushed and leaned over to pour wine for everyone. But I'd like to drink some wine. Most of the mail is just junk, January sale catalogs, stuff like that.There were two postcards, one from Mary, who had been in Australia all month, and the other from Alex from Spain.He should be back by now, I don't know if he has heard about it.There are two invitations to parties, one is overdue and the other is this weekend.Maybe I'll join in, dance and flirt.Then I thought, what should I wear?What should I say?And who would flirt with a little girl who looks like a homeless girl?Maybe I still won't participate after all.

There was a very strange official letter from Lawrence Jonah of Jay and Jonah.Jonah, the content is to confirm that I am on unpaid leave, but my pension and universal insurance will still be paid.I frowned and set it aside.Apparently I have to stop by the office sometime.Maybe tomorrow. Then there is a bank statement.At the beginning of the month I still had the brilliant and rare sum of £1,810.49, but now I am down to £597.I squinted at the column of numbers.I bought something for £890 on January 13th.Fuck, it must be the clothes that Luo Bing told me about.What kind of demon am I?Must have been drunk or something.And I don't even have a shadow of those clothes.Then, three days later, I got £500 in cash, which was weird.I usually only get around fifty pounds.

I had a few drinks and opened what looked like an official letter, informing me that the tax proof sticker on my car was about to expire.That doesn't bother me too much because I don't even know where my car is but I know right away because I opened another letter and found that my car was impounded at the towing yard in Bow . Great!I yelled.Finally! I will read that letter carefully.The car was apparently towed from an illegal parking lot on Tibury Road in the East End.I don't know where Tilbury Road is, much less where the damned East End is.I can pick up the car between nine and five o'clock.I'm going tomorrow, it's a matter of urgency.

I rush to the kitchen.I found my car!I tell them. Well, said Guy, a little surprised.Very good.Where? Apparently at the police towing yard at Bow.I'll pick up the car tomorrow morning.Then I don't need to take a taxi.I picked up the bottle of wine and poured myself another large glass. How to get the car?asked Guy. What's the meaning? How do you get the car?You don't have a key. oh.I was very disappointed.I didn't expect this.what do I do? You can go to a locksmith.Yi Ji kindly suggested. No, I see.There was a backup key to Terry's place, somewhere.But God knows where.A safe place I've forgotten.I have to go back again.shit.I thought it was just tonight.

At least you can own your car again.That's something to be thankful for. That was a start. I'm falling, falling from heights.Nothing could stop me, the dead black air was all around me, and I just fell through the air.I heard myself cry out, a shrill howl in the dark night.I hear an echo. I woke up with a sudden turn, and then lay as if tied to a pillow.The pillow was already damp with sweat, and I felt the sweat run down my cheeks and neck like tears.I opened my eyes but it was still dark.very dark.My chest was heavy, as if something heavy was pressing on me.Trapped in the dark, I could hear my own breathing, but it was hoarse, like a heavy panting.The situation was not right, I couldn't breathe smoothly, the air was stuck in my chest, and my throat was constantly convulsing and contracting, causing the air to be stuck in my chest.I have to figure out what to do, I have to figure out how to breathe.I have to count, yes, that's it.Inhale and exhale, slowly.One two, one two.Breathing air into my lungs, holding it for a second, and exhaling.

who is thereSomeone is around.A board shattered.I tried to sit up but I couldn't move my body, I wanted to scream but my voice was stuck in my throat.Another sound of planks cracking.There is a sound of breathing.I can hear it, right outside the door.I lie flat on the pillow.I can feel my mouth opening to scream but still no sound, breathing again, footsteps, a faint, muffled cough. No, I finally said it.don't want.I'll speak louder.Don't, don't, don't, don't.These words fill my head.They bounced around the room, bumping around my skull and tugging at my throat.Don't, don't, don't, don't. The door opened, and I could see a black figure in the whole light. don't want!I screamed again, louder.There is a hand on my shoulder, fingers in my hair.I pounded hard on the bed.Don't, don't, don't, don't.Oh please, don't! Abby.Abby, wake up.It's okay, you're dreaming, it's just a dream. Oh my God. Abby. God, god, god.I sobbed. You are having nightmares. I took Sheila's hand and pressed it to my forehead. You are soaking wet!You must have a fever. Sheila.oh sheila i thought You are having nightmares. I sit up.too horrible.I said. poor child.Listen, I'm going to get a towel and spread it on your pillow.You should be fine now. Yes.Feel sorry.I woke you up. No.I'm going to the bathroom anyway.Wait a moment. She turned and left, and came back a while later with a large towel.Are you okay?she asked. Yes. Call me if you need me. Thanks.Also, keep the Sheila door open, okay?And can the lights in the aisle be turned on? That light is very bright. It doesn't matter. Well, good night then. Good night. She turned and left, and I lay back on the bed.My heart still beats like a drum.My throat hurts from shouting.I felt weak and shivering, clammy and sick.Light poured in through the door, and I lay looking at the light, waiting for dawn. Where would I hide it? No idea.Terry said.He's still in his nightgown, the one I gave him for his last birthday, and he's drinking thick, straight coffee, cigarette after cigarette.A blue heat filled the room, and it smelled of soot and last night's garlic.But the other woman was nowhere to be seen. I mean, not in those little drawers in the cupboard, or the wooden bowl stuffed with odds and ends, or in the bathroom. How could it be in the bathroom? no.That's what I said, not in the bathroom. oh.He lit another cigarette.Well, I have to change and go out.I'm going to be late again.will you stay long I'll stay as long as it takes to find that key.Don't worry, I'll get out by myself. Well, that's not necessarily the case. sorry? You don't live here anymore, Abby.You dumped me, remember?You can't just come and go like this. I stopped rummaging and looked at him.Are you serious? I'll change while you look, he said.But yeah, I mean it. I pulled open and slammed all the drawers in the kitchen and living room, and slammed the cabinets open and slammed back.Not with cutlery, not with bills, not with canned goods, flour sacks and rice sacks, cereal packets, coffee and tea bags, oil jars, vinegar jars, soy sauce jars, and so on.Not on the mug hooks, not on the lintels of the two rooms, not on the bookshelves, not with the stationery, rubber bands, slips of paper, spare buttons and hair ties before I put them away, Inside a glass bowl with stamps, tampons, etc. Taylor went back into the room.He put his hands in his coat pockets, tinkling the change impatiently. Listen, I said: You don't want me here, and I don't want to stay here.You go to work and when you come back I'm gone.I will not steal anything from you, nor will I remove what belongs to me, you can keep it.I'd rather start from scratch like a blank slate.I don't scribble ugly words in the bathroom mirror with lipstick.I'll find the key and leave.OK? He fiddled with the change more loudly.Is this really the end?he asked at last, much to my surprise. The woman who was here last night seemed all right, I said.What's her name?Sarah? sally.He said, desperate.Well, I'll let you find it yourself here. Thanks.Goodbye then. Goodbye, Abby.He lingered at the door for a few more seconds, then left. I make one last cup of coffee for myself.I walk around the room with that mug in my hand.I'm still a little skeptical that the key will be hidden in this cup, in the file holder.In addition, I can only look around and recall.I found the key in the bottom of the basil grass pot.The soil in the pot is dry and cracked, and the leaves are withered.I carefully poured some water, washed my mug, dried it, put it back on the hook, and left. Bau has a long way to go.When I arrived I had forty-eight pounds and a few coppers with me.I asked at a post office where the towing yard was.It turned out that the place was a mile away from the nearest subway station.The average person would think that they towed the car, or at least parked it somewhere close to the mass transit network.I would take a taxi if I saw one passing by, but I didn't.Only the constant flow of cars and pickup trucks splashed water from the big puddles on the road. So I walked like a car, passing by garages selling BMW cars, factories making lights, tableware, and carpets; passing some construction sites, where a few snow-covered cranes stood there motionless.When I climbed over a small hill, I saw the towing yard; rows of vehicles were parked inside the tall fence, and the gate was double-locked.Most of the vehicles are old and dented, and perhaps the owners simply abandoned them.I couldn't find my car, which was also old and dented. I went to the office around the corner to show the official document, and a staff member rummaged through the filing cabinet, took out a printed document, scratched his head and sighed heavily. Can I pick up the car then?I asked. Wait a minute, not so fast.You have to pay a fine, you know. Oh yeah, of course, sorry.How many?I anxiously reached into my pocket for the wad of rapidly shrinking bills. I'm counting.There are fines for illegal parking, as well as towing fees, and you have to pay more storage fees for overdue parking. oh.It sounds like it's still full. Yes, a lot.One hundred and thirty pounds. sorry? One hundred and thirty pounds.He said it again. I don't have that much money with me. We can take checks. I didn't bring a checkbook. credit card. I shake my head. Oh, this is great.Oh, this is great.He said.His tone didn't sound very sad. what do I do? I can't help it. Can I pick up the car and drive to a friend to borrow money and come back here? no. There was nothing to do but turn around and leave.I trudged back to Bau and sat in a small coffee shop drinking a cup of bitter, lukewarm coffee.Then I called Sam on the pay phone and asked him, begged him, to send me sixty pounds, no, eighty pounds, or even ninety pounds, and send it to the towing yard by a courier company, and I would be there while waiting.Please, please, please, I said.I'm really sorry, but this matter is really urgent.I know there is a courier service because he once had a courier company go to a club we had just left to pick up a coat for him because he didn't want to go back and get it himself.Paid with work allowance, he said. I finally got my car back.I paid off the £130 just after half past twelve and the man gave me a receipt showing where the car was towed and a payment statement.Then he showed me where to park the car and unlocked the double doors.I only have nineteen pounds left. I got in the car and put the key in, and the car started immediately.I turned on the heat and rubbed my hands to keep the cold out.On the passenger seat was a Malteser bag.I pushed the tape in the sound box, but I didn't know what kind of music was playing, it was very light and lively with jazz style.I turned the volume up and drove out the gate, then I stopped on the side of the road to look at the slip.My car was towed outside Gate 103, Tibury Road, East District. The date was January 28. After calculation, I learned that it was the last day of my hospitalization.The road must not be far from here. The road map is placed in the small compartment for gloves.I found out where Tilbury Road was and drove there, passing through an area I was quite unfamiliar with.It was a long, gloomy street lined with battened houses, dimly lit newsstands and twenty-four-hour shops selling grapefruit, okra and jagged cans of tomatoes.I parked outside 103 and sat in the car for a few minutes.I put my head on the steering wheel trying to remember.I can't think of anything, and I'm at a loss.I put the map back in the glove compartment, aware of the rustling of paper inside.Three other receipts were stuffed into the compartment: one for petrol, £26, on Monday, January 14; ; The third is a receipt from an Indian delivery restaurant on the same day, spending a total of 16.8 pounds to buy two biryani, one Indian vegetable rice, one fried king prawn slices, one spinach, one Eggplant, a garlic naan.The place of delivery is 2B Menor Street, North West London.I'd never heard of Menor Street, and can't remember when I was back in the North End neighborhood. I was stuffing the receipts back into the glove compartment when something fell to the floor.I leaned over to pick up a pair of dark glasses and a key on a wire loop.Not my key, a key I've never seen. It was not yet four o'clock and I was driving again, on the long road outside London in the twilight.Everything seemed even more terrifying in the night.I'm exhausted, but I have things to do before I get back to Sheela and Guy's house.