I See You by Clare Mackintosh Page A

bar, a laptop in front of him. Melissa’s desk is by the window, and even though Neil has an office upstairs, if he isn’t working away he’s often in here with her.
    ‘Hi, Neil.’
    ‘Hey, Zoe. How are things?’
    ‘Not bad.’ I hesitate, not sure whether to share what’s going on with the photos in the
Gazette
; not sure I can even define it. Perhaps talking about it might help. ‘Funny thing, though – I saw a photograph in the
London Gazette
that looked just like me.’ I give a little laugh, but Melissa stops making the tea and looks at me sharply. We spend too much time together for me to hide anything.
    ‘Areyou okay?’
    ‘I’m fine. It was just a photo, that’s all. An advert for a dating site, or something. But it had my picture in it. At least, I thought it did.’ Now it’s Neil who looks confused, and I don’t blame him; I’m not making any sense. I think of the kid on the Tube, running to catch up with his friends, and I’m glad no one I knew was there to see how I overreacted. I wonder if I’m having some kind of midlife crisis; having panic attacks over invisible danger.
    ‘When was this?’ Neil says.
    ‘Friday evening.’ I glance around the kitchen, but of course there isn’t a
Gazette
lying about. In my house the recycling box is permanently crammed with newspapers and cardboard packaging, but Melissa’s bin is neatly tucked away, and emptied regularly. ‘It was in the classifieds. Just a phone number, a website address, and the photograph.’
    ‘A photograph of you,’ Melissa says.
    I hesitate. ‘Well, someone who looked like me. Simon said I must have a doppelgänger.’
    Neil laughs. ‘You’d recognise yourself though, surely?’
    I go to sit at the breakfast bar, next to him, and he closes the laptop, moving it so it isn’t in the way. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? When I saw it on the Tube I was convinced it was me. But then by the time I got home, and I showed it to the others, I wasn’t so sure. I mean, why would it be there?’
    ‘Did you call the number?’ Melissa says. She leans on the island opposite us, the coffee forgotten.
    ‘It doesn’t work. Nor does the website; the address is something like find the one dot com, but it just takes you to a blank screen with a white box in the middle.’
    ‘Want me to take a look at it?’
    Neil does something in IT. I’ve never been sure exactly what, but he explained it once in such detail, I feel bad for not remembering.
    ‘It’sfine, honestly. You’ve got proper work to do.’
    ‘And lots of it,’ Melissa says ruefully. ‘He’s in Cardiff tomorrow, then at the Houses of Parliament for the rest of the week. I’m lucky if I see him once a week at the moment.’
    ‘Parliament? Wow. What’s it like?’
    ‘Boring.’ Neil grins. ‘The bit I’ll be in, anyway. I’m installing a new firewall, so I’m unlikely to be rubbing shoulders with the PM.’
    ‘Is your October paperwork ready?’ I ask Melissa, suddenly remembering why I needed to pop in and see her. She nods.
    ‘On the desk, just on top of that orange ring binder.’
    Melissa’s desk is white and glossy, like everything else in the kitchen. A huge iMac dominates the surface, and a floating shelf above holds all the files for the cafés. On the desk is a penholder that Katie made in woodwork at school.
    ‘I can’t believe you still have this.’
    ‘Of course I do! It was so sweet of her to make it.’
    ‘She got a B for it,’ I remember. When we first moved in next door to Melissa and Neil, money was horribly, frighteningly, tight. There were more shifts on offer at Tesco, but with a school run at 3 p.m. it just wasn’t possible. Until Melissa stepped in. At the time she only had the one café, and she closed after the lunchtime trade. She’d pick up the kids for me and bring them home with her, and they’d watch TV while she did the food order for the next day. Melissa would bake with Katie, and Neil showed Justin how to add RAM to a