‘Right…’ You could see the officer was having a hard time believing her. ‘If Leah is sectioned she can be treated and—’
‘I believe sectioning Leah will be counter-productive. She’ll still see his face or think he is disguised as a nurse—’
‘She might think he’s a woman?’
‘It’s possible, yes. She’ll think he’s clever enough to carry that off. If she’s sectioned she will have the added trauma of being in a locked ward with no familiar faces and no way to escape. She needs medication and therapy, but not to the extent of drugging her to an almost vegetative state. She needs to feel safe.’
‘I don’t know. It all sounds fuc— so unbelievable. No offence.’ He looked at me and then turned quickly away as though I might cause his face to change. ‘And this is one of them newfangled mental health thingies we’re supposed to be sensitive about?’
‘It’s not new.’ Francesca didn’t show any hint of impatience. ‘The first diagnosed case was in 1927. A theatregoer was convinced that two of her favourite actresses were disguising themselves as other people and following her. Her theory was… disproved,’ Francesca said carefully, not adding that the theory was disproved after the lady attacked a stranger, thinking it was one of the actresses, as I found out later. ‘The condition was named after Leopoldo Fregoli, who thrilled Victorian theatregoers with his quick-change act. Look. You can discharge Leah into my care. I’m confident I can treat her. Once the anniversary is over, the pressure will be off anyway and it will likely disappear as quickly as it came on. You do all know what she went through as a child.’
‘Yeah.’ This time his voice was softer, he probably had children of his own. ‘Okay. You can take her home. But she better not be back in five minutes reporting she’s seen him again.’
I didn’t but ironically, he did approach me – all three of us – wanting to apologize. We didn’t accept, didn’t care if he’d ‘turned over a new leaf’. Not long after, he was arrested again. Boomeranged back to his cell.
Now, my drifting thoughts are interrupted by Francesca’s voice.
‘Feeling real doesn’t mean it is real. You know that, Leah.’
‘I know but the timing… Me seeing him the day after he was released – and I didn’t know at the time he had been released. The twenty-year anniversary.’
‘Where did you see him?’
‘I was coming out of the BP garage.’
‘Walk me through it. Where were you coming from? Going to?’
‘I’d come from home. Marie had texted and asked me to go round. I was cross because George had promised he’d fill the car up but he hadn’t. You remember the smell of petrol always reminds me of being in the back of the van?’
‘I do.’
‘I filled up my car and I was paying and there was a white van,’ I pause, trying to decide whether to tell her I thought the van had someone trapped inside. That I made the driver open the doors, but I don’t want to appear any more paranoid than I probably do already.
‘And he was driving the van?’ Francesca prompts.
‘No. He was in a black car. He passed me as I came out of the garage.’
‘So you were already in an emotionally heightened state because you were on your way to see Marie. You’d seen a white van, which of course is distressing for you, as is the smell of petrol. On a scale of one to ten, how certain are you it was him?’
‘I wasn’t,’ I admit. ‘I thought he was still in prison but I saw him again the next day, outside Marie’s flat.’
‘Did he approach you?’
‘No. I was in the car with Carly and it was raining. He was on the street.’
‘Did Carly see him too?’
‘No.’
‘But you saw him clearly? Through the rain?’ She studies me.
‘Well, no but I had a really strong feeling.’ I reach to tuck my hair behind my ears. My hands are trembling.
‘It’s okay, Leah. You’re doing great.’ She gives me a second. ‘Have you seen him anywhere else?’
‘Today, at work. He was the photocopier repair man. He chased me.’
‘He chased you?’
‘Yes.’ But had he run after me? ‘Well, I ran away from him. I think he came after me. I don’t know. That’s it anyway. Just three times. So far.’
‘If your Fregoli has returned, there will likely be many more instances of you spotting him.’
‘I know. I don’t want to go through it again. I can’t put George through it again. Thinking he’s everywhere I turn. Not knowing what is real and what isn’t. Please. Will you help me again? I have to know if this is all in my head. I’ve been getting letters. Hand delivered. If it’s him he knows where I live. Where Archie lives.’
‘That must be frightening.’
‘The police think it’s a crank.’
‘You’ve been to the police again?’ She doesn’t sigh but she doesn’t have to.
‘Of course I have. I’m being threatened.’
‘What do the letters say?’
‘Four days. Three. It’s a countdown to the anniversary. Who knows what might happen then? The police don’t class it as an actual threat but it feels like it.’
‘Is there anything else I should know, Leah?’
I hesitate. I haven’t told her I think he’s snatched Marie. I want her to agree to take me back as a client before I tell her that.
‘I don’t think there’s anything else,’ I say. If I tell her about the old newspapers in the staffroom she might not believe me and I don’t have them to show her as proof. The reappearance of Fregoli is one thing but I can’t have her questioning my mental capacity. She – teamed with the police – could section me and I have to be around to protect my family. No matter what everyone says, I’m not convinced it isn’t him I’m seeing, but without her help I’ll never be sure. I’m not certain it’s the Fregoli Syndrome playing tricks on me. Hiding in plain sight, they call it. With my medical history he could be standing right in front of me and I’d have no way of knowing if it was actually him or someone else and I was just seeing his face.
Unless he hurt me.
Three days.
The letters sound like a warning.
And although I know with my track record no one will believe me, I do think he has come back to hurt me.
Three days.
And there’s only me who will be able to stop him.
‘I’ll help you,’ she says eventually. ‘But not now. I’ve a client due in ten minutes.’
We fix up an appointment. ‘Go straight home and get some rest,’ she says as she sees me out.
‘I will, once I’ve picked up my car,’ I promise but it’s a lie. I’m not going home but I can’t tell her where I’m going.
She wouldn’t approve.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Leah
Now
I’m steeling myself to knock on the door. It is after lunch but all the curtains are drawn. There’s no telling if Mum is here. This isn’t the home I was born in – but the council house we’d moved to after her divorce from Dad. We all left years ago and I thought she’d move but she’s stayed local, even though Dad didn’t and sometimes I wonder why. She doesn’t have much of a relationship with us. She doesn’t have much of a relationship with anyone. The town had judged and found her guilty of lacking the skills a mother should have. The ability to keep her children safe.