Chapter 20

After Mrs Thomas left, I wondered whether it would be okay to get something to eat. I felt ravenous since I’d had so little to eat over the past few days. Rooting through the kitchen, I found a packet of porridge oats. I measured some into a glass bowl, added milk and sugar, then nuked them in the microwave. The result hit the spot perfectly, and at that moment felt like the best meal of my life. I reluctantly decided not to be greedy and have seconds.

I used the rest of the time before Mrs Thomas’s return to work out how much of the truth to tell her. Obviously there was no way I could mention that I’d deliberately thought of her while masturbating. I reckoned I’d have to admit to thinking about her though, otherwise it would be too much of a coincidence that I’d ended up with the adult most likely to help me.

I heard a car draw up outside. It had been about seventy five minutes since Mrs Thomas had left, according to her kitchen clock. I rushed to look out of the window and saw it was Mrs Thomas and, to my relief, she hadn’t brought anyone with her.

I opened the front door before she could reach it.

“Did your sister identify the drug?” I asked.

“Let me get inside first,” she grumped. Then, after the door was shut firmly behind her, “Let me get a cup of tea, then we’ll sit down and you can explain why I shouldn’t take you round to your parents. Would you like anything to drink?”

“Tea please. I hope it was alright but I was hungry so I cooked some porridge in the microwave. I wasn’t able to eat much after they started drugging me.”

“Hmm, that’s more than my Dexter’s capable of.”

When we both had mugs of tea, Mrs Thomas escorted me to the lounge and we each claimed a comfortable armchair. “Now tell my how you came to be in my house,” she said.

I related the edited version of the story I had worked out. I told her about the four times I had ended up in bed with girls from my class, and I’d been thinking or dreaming about them before the headaches made me black out. I mentioned the threats from her father that Alexandra Ferguson had warned me about. I told her about the unusual brain patterns, Professor Palatinsky’s interest in my case and how Dr Kelleher had helped me escape from hospital. I told her about the alternative suggestion of FreshFields suddenly appearing in my dad’s lap and how I felt obliged to take it. Then I told her about my treatment at the mental health facility, my parents refusing to take me home, and how I had effected my escape.

“So you feel a headache coming on, you think or dream of someone else and you end up in their bed with them?” challenged Mrs Thomas incredulously.

“And I seem to be able to sleepwalk out of locked rooms, travel long distances to places I didn’t know existed, enter locked houses, and end up in bed with someone who hadn’t even been home at the time,” I said, deflecting her question.

“You know, that’s just about ridiculous enough to be true,” admitted Mrs Thomas. “Nobody could possibly make all that up. And it tallies with what happened to me.”

I think my sigh of relief that she’d believed me must have been audible, because she looked askance at me.

“That wasn’t my bed though, that was the guest bedroom,” Mrs Thomas mused. “Although I’ve been sleeping in there while I’m doing some redecorating of my own room.”

“Did you get a headache just before you ended back here?” I asked.

“No, I felt fine the whole time. Though something must have put me to sleep.” Mrs Thomas’s brow furrowed with realisation. “You must have thought of me when you had a headache come on.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “You were the only adult I could think of who might help me.” Since this was a risky area I quickly changed the subject. “Could your sister identify the capsules?”