Wednesday, 6th of June

A quick note that I’m typing hurriedly in the corridor of a train, having excused myself to go to the loo.
I had a call from Alison!

Yes, Alison, my Australian girlfriend who disappeared from my life (and everybody else’s) at the start of the year. I hadn’t thought of her in days, but my phone went off yesterday evening from a  with-held number. At first I couldn’t hear her, it was just static. I was just about to hang up thinking it was a dreadful line, when I heard her voice in the background. It only lasted a few seconds, but she said: “Have a great time in Wales! I’m sure you’ll find what you need!”

Has she read this blog, is that how she knows? But then how can she have found me in Budapest? That wasn’t on this blog beforehand. And of course the biggest question, why does she reach out so obliquely?

I haven’t told Julie about this, I haven’t told Dexter Phillips about Julie either – and yet I can’t help thinking this has something to do with our dreams.

Tuesday, 3rd of April

No response yet from Julie, but I did get a text from bloody Alison.
“I’m sorry to hear the news,” it said, “hope you’re bearing up. Alison. x”

How the bloody hell could she know? What is going on? My first impulse was to get in touch with Julie and find out who she had told and then work my way to Alison through that route, but I can’t help thinking that the subject of Alison is going to be a raw one between Julie and I at the moment (if and when we do speak again), so I can’t do that. But what else can it be?

Is she reading this blog?

Alison, if you’re out there, let me know.

Wednesday, 28th of March

I find myself missing Alison. Not because I dream about her a lot, but because in her disappearance and subsequent messages (as well as what might have been her brief reappearance in Hungary) I feel that she’s somehow a lot more connected with me now. I think if I was to sit down and talk to her about my dreams and what I’m thinking, then Alison would understand. It’s like she’s part of it, as if we’re on the same wavelength. (I know that’s not how I necessarily felt about her during our brief relationship, but it’s a sensation I can’t shake now). I know I have Julie, a new girlfriend, but she doesn’t understand and so I don’t try talking to her about it anymore. If I’m honest I think it’s causing a bit of distance between us.
I have all these thoughts and visions in my mind and no one to share them with – apart from perhaps my ex girlfriend (who has vanished) and maybe a female Elvis impersonator in North London.

Jesus! When I put it like that I see that, I really am fucking insane.

Thursday, 8th of March

And so the dreams return. A week ago I felt so happy and confident, as if my dark days were behind me. I see now that these demons haven’t gone anywhere.
Last night I was in the park again, stood there watching Elvina and knowing – from the coldness at the back of my neck – what was going to come next. Clearly the end of the world is on its way, and last night it involved a large mushroom cloud.

Checking back on this blog I see that I didn’t know who the woman beside me was in my initial dream. Now I do know. It’s Alison and she is smiling at me. She’s smiling at me in such a way that shows she knows what’s coming and is seemingly looking forward to it.

I start to panic – a combination of the fear of what’s about to occur and the fact that Alison’s mere presence is so unsettling. But I don’t do anything. I stand there and watch as Elvina arches herself deliciously back in the sunlight. Then at the final moment Alison clutches my fingers and I clutch back. We smile at each other.

And then we go boom.

Wednesday, 7th of March

So where does that leave me?
Well of course I haven’t mentioned it to Julie. Instead I just told her how much fun we had, about the bars we visited and the music we listened to. I think she suspects that I’m being less than candid on the subject of strip clubs, but that’s fine (and what’s expected on a lad’s weekend). She’ll never guess about Alison, and I don’t want to worry or distress her.

Did I dream it? There are moments (particularly if I wake up at four in the morning) when I think I must have hallucinated the whole thing. But then in that instant, I was so certain, so convinced that she was there. And certainly the text was real (I still have it, it clearly came from her phone). I don’t see she could have known in any way that I was going to Budapest, yet somehow she did know – so does that mean she went there as well?

How could she know?

Why would she follow me like that?

The answer to where does that leave me, is confused.

Tuesday, 5th of March

So I had a fun time away in Budapest. I hung out with friends, met friends of friends and we enjoyed all the thrills the city has to offer. We did a lot of drinking, saw some good live music (if our Adele ever disappears, and we don’t mind her replacement having a Hungarian accent, then famous chantuse Toth Vera can easily be dropped into her place) and yes – I admit it – we may have taken in one or two strip shows as well.
It should have been a holiday without a single bad memory; instead – from about halfway through – my blood was chilled. On Friday night we were in a rockabilly bar called Cafe Amigo, watching a really good band called Crazy Cat & The Blue Moons. I was earning the envy of my friends by dancing with a Hungarian Mila Kunis (albeit, a version two stone heavy). Nothing was going to happen as, of course, I have Julie – but it was fun to watch their faces as I spun her around. But then I looked up and standing at the bar was Alison.

I didn’t imagine it, I didn’t hallucinate, it genuinely was her – absolutely and positively. She was dressed in a dark coat and a red beret and she was smiling at me.

At that moment this MIla Kunis girl spun the other way and I lost sight of the bar. When I turned back – only a second or so later – Alison had gone, she just wasn’t there anymore. As swiftly as I could I extricated myself from my dancing partner and changed out to find her. I checked all three floors, looked at the street outside, but couldn’t see her anywhere. And yet I know, absolutely know, that my vanished girlfriend was in that bar in Budapest with me.

For the rest of the weekend, even though I tried to enjoy myself, I could feel her somewhere close by.

Wednesday, 29th February

And so the bad feeling returns. Hungary tomorrow and all day long I was feeling good, looking forward toward it, almost bouncing around with confidence and happiness. All that ended at 5.15 pm when I had a text saying: “Hey! Have a great time in Budapest!”

All very nice and pleasant you might think.

Except it was from Alison.

How can she know? What is going on? My stomach is twisted with dread again.

Monday, 20th February - addendum

And so I finally went and saw Louise, and she sat there as I calmly explained that what I want from life this year is to make a real go of things with Julie, work to make my book successful, and perhaps do something about the fact that I’m in a crap and boring job that I pretty much hate.
I did not mention my dreams, I didn’t mention Alison’s disappearance (and resurrection over the telephone), I certainly didn’t mention my growing suspicion that someone else comes into my flat and makes themselves at home when I’m not there. I knew she wouldn’t have wanted to listen to any of those fears, to any of those notions which so dominate my mind. So rather than try to get past her wall of scepticism, rather than try to earnestly speak as she almost literally rolls her eyes – I decided to avoid it all.

I am now paying a therapist so that I can lie to her.

Sunday, 12th of February

Well the coffee went as well as I could possibly have hoped. We met in a Starbucks on the South Bank and Julie was still quite teary – she told me that she’d wanted for so much from me and felt that I’d let her down. I reiterated what I’d told her about me not being the one who told Alison, and in fact I was equally as baffled as she was as to how Alison could know. As for the calling by the wrong name, there are only so many ways I could apologise for that but I think I tried them all.
Gradually she softened and we twisted our fingers together below the table. I kissed her on the cheek and told her how much I liked her and how I really wanted to keep our thing going. And after a little cajoling, I persuaded her that we should try again with our nice evening out. It’s Valentine’s Night this week and that, I said, was perfect for it. I don’t know how eager she was at first, but I convinced her, flattered her until she agreed.

Tuesday it is! Though God knows what kind of restaurant I’m going to get a reservation in at this short a notice. She said she doesn’t mind just drinks, but I’d like to do this properly if we can.

As we kissed goodbye, gentler and more caring than before, I reiterated how much I liked her and how much I wanted to see her. She said that she liked me too and we agreed to put all this behind us for Tuesday.

It was such a sweet moment.

There were no phone calls on my way home this time. But I had that dream again of watching Elvina in the park. In it, I realise now, I am definitely with Alison. If I am really dreaming the future, does that mean she’s coming back?

Saturday, 11th of February

I left Julie two voicemails – the second longer and more impassioned, but both emphasising the same points:

• I did not tell Alison about us;
• I’ve had no contact with her besides that bizarre phone-call where she already seemed to know about the two of us;
• the reason I didn’t tell Julie about that phone-call was that it all just seemed so inexplicable and weird. It seemed better to concentrate on us rather than Alison and whatever she was doing. That just seemed the most sensible thing to do.

The only part I couldn’t adequately explain, of course, was calling her by the wrong name. All I could say was that until recently I was going out with Alison and now we were having an argument with Alison as its cause. From that point of view it was an understandable mistake for a stupid person to make. But there was no way I could justify it and all I could do was apologise humbly and profusely.

About two hours after the second voicemail she finally called me back. She was in tears but she listened and we had a conversation. I don’t think she wanted to see me again for a little while, but I managed to persuade her and we’re going for coffee in a couple of hour’s time.

I have all my apologies lined up again.

Thursday, 9th of February

So last night I met up with Julie. My intention was just to have a fun time, relax in each other’s company, have a laugh. I wanted to really get to know this girl. On Saturday she’d told me her doubts but I wanted to convince her that I don’t see her as a rebound; she is much more than just a shag. I wanted to make it clear that she is someone I really like, a fun person to be around – gorgeous in her glasses (I’ve always had a fondness for girls in thick-rimmed specs). She’s different to Alison, more open than her, more approachable. In short she’s someone I really want to be with.
And so yesterday evening I was not going to think about Alison or any stupid lists Louise had asked me to do. I was just going to concentrate on having a good time.

Unfortunately it didn’t quite work out like that.

For a start Julie was twenty minutes late. Previously she’d always shown up on time (and more than that, had boasted of her punctuality). Last night she was tardy and I found myself sat in the bar just off Cannon Street checking my phone compulsively, wondering if I was going to get a message explaining just what the hell was going on. None came, but it was just as I was getting worried that Julie arrived.

This Julie though was different to the girl I’d met previously. When she finally got there it looked as if she had been crying. Her normal smiley and happy face was disturbingly absent, and instead there was a woman who seemed hunched and somewhat fed up with her life. Immediately I asked her what was wrong but she didn’t engage, just shrugging off my queries with a curt: “Nothing”.

I went to the bar and got her a wine, in the hope of loosening her up.

Unfortunately it did.

She downed half of it in one go, and then glared at me meanly. This is the downside of her type of spectacles – they’re cute, but the eyes are magnified by the lenses so any kind of stink-eye takes much greater force.

“I thought you said you hadn’t seen Alison?”

That was an accusation not a question.

“I haven’t,” I told her.

“Then how does she know about us?”

In an instant I could see what happened. I hadn’t mentioned my strange phone-call because I thought it would be easier not to, but clearly she’d had contact as well.

Perhaps she saw the realisation on my face, as she charged on.

“I had an email from her, she wished us all the best,” the words were spat with venom.

There was a moment’s hesitation and then I talked as fast as I could.  “She did call me, but she said the same thing to me as she did to you. I’ve no idea how she knows though - honestly.”

“Oh come on. how else could she know unless you told her? It’s not like we have anyone else in common.”

With a look of disdain she got up from the table. “I hate fucking liars, I just want to know that.”

“Wait, Alison!” I called.

And then sat back with the sickening realisation of what I’d said.

Julie turned to me with one look of disdain and charged from the pub.

I knew it was pointless to follow her.

On the way home I kicked a brick wall. I think I’ve broken the little toe on my left foot. It’s not the worst thing that happened to me last night.

Sunday 5th of February, 2012 - addendum

I've checked my phone a dozen times today, and that phonecall did come in.
But did I imagine I spoke to Alison? Did I dream it?

And if I didn't, how could she know about me and Julie?

Is she watching us somehow?

What is going on?

My head hurts today from more than just last night's booze.

Sunday 5th of February, 2012

After a week of pondering and being inside my head, it was good to have an evening out with Julie last night. Social wise my week has been nothing at all, I’ve just gone to the office of a morning and come straight home at night – hence I had too much time to sit around and brood. As such it was great to have a fun chat with someone, to have a few drinks and some flirting. It was great to know that the world isn’t just about me.

I was so eager, I even got there and early and had a pint before she arrived. And even there by myself, I did feel better. Not talking to anyone, but hearing the conversations go on around me – a mix of idle gossip and sports chat, what had just happened in the rugby and how good Arsenal were at lunch time.

There was part of me tempted to take Julie to see Elvina in Clerkenwell,, but I thought that wouldn’t be the most suitable of locations for what presumably was a date – so instead we went to The Rising Sun on Tottenham Court Road. Clearly we timed it right, as the rugby fans were already drifting out by the time we arrived.

When Julie got there, she looked great. She was wearing a short pleated skirt and a white blouse. With her glasses as well, the overall effect was naughty head-girl. She had a wine and I had a beer and we just fell straight into talking, huddled over the table and staring at each other so close.

The two of us chatted about where we from (me Wales, her Tonbridge); where we went to University (me Liverpool, her Cambridge); past relationships (she knew about my last one, I of course didn’t know about hers); siblings (one sister each); parents (all alive, still together and retired); and work (neither of us overly enamoured with what we do).

After a while we decided to go for a curry on Charlotte Street and left the pub holding hands, walking so tight together like the happiest of young couples. We sat opposite each other and she slipped her hand onto my knee even before the poppadoms arrived. I inched my hand up and stroked her thighs under her skirt. We huddled over that table, almost as if there was candlelight and we were the only two people in a beautiful French restaurant.

If I’m honest I thought I was in. After last week’s sudden kissing, I thought this week was going to be an escalation to the next level. The outfit, the way we didn’t stop touching, the look on her face. I’ve been to that restaurant before and so know how good it is, but I couldn’t tell you anything about the meal last night. All I concentrated on was her, she intoxicated me.

The instant we left her lips swooped onto mine, and we were in each other’s arms again. I was so hot for her, so desperate to have her and she must have understood that as she quickly – and sweetly – drew a line in the sand.

“Let’s do something this week,” she said. “Let’s do something nice.”

“Of course,” I said, and with that removed all thoughts of getting a taxi back to her place from my mind. That wasn’t going to happen tonight, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen.

“I really like you,” she told me. “I really, really like you – but I’m just scared that you’re on the rebound.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I promise you I wasn’t out hunting for anyone. This – between us – is just something that happened.”

She kissed me again. “Oh, I do like you. You’re really nice and considerate and funny and I really do want a boyfriend for Valentine’s day, and at the moment I want it to be you – but I just want you to be ready for that. I don’t want to be hurt,” her head nestled on my shoulder. “Are you ready for a relationship?”

“I am, Julie. Trust me, I am.”

We agreed to meet on Wednesday and then lingered over a kiss goodbye at the tube station. I skipped back to my flat last night so happy. Okay, so we hadn’t ended up in bed, but I had something going on with a fun and sexy girl who was not someone who had vanished or who I only watched through a spotlight. Earlier in the week I thought I was going to die alone, now that eventuality seemed so far away.

As I let myself in the mobile rang. I looked at the screen and it was a withheld number. For whatever reason I thought it must be Julie, calling from home perhaps.

I clicked the button with a big “Hello.”

There was a pause and then Alison’s voice said: “Hello.”

She sounded as distant as when I’d spoken to her on Katie’s phone.

“Alison? Where are you?”

That was a question she was always going to ignore. “I just want to say that it’s great you’re getting to know Julie. You were two people I really liked and I want you to know that I’m glad it’s happening.”

My mouth opened and shut before getting any words out. “How the hell do you know about that?”

“I’m fine,” she said, a non sequitur if ever there was one. “I’m totally fine, don’t worry about me.”

And with that she was gone.

I sat there in the hallway carpet, my phone in my hand, all good feeling now replaced with bafflement.

Sunday, 29th of January

On Friday I emailed Julie to let her know about my strange phone conversation with Alison. Of course the email was far too blunt a tool for us to discuss it properly (particularly with me needing to catch up with work as well). I was unable to answer all the questions she asked (although, really, like I have the answers to all the questions she asked). As such we went out for a coffee yesterday afternoon to talk about it properly, but when we met we decided to make it drinks instead and managed to keep it going most of the evening.

In detail I told her what happened. She asked me all the questions which have been bubbling around my brain: What? Why? How come?

I was unable to answer any of them.

After about two drinks we started to talk about Alison herself.

“She was always someone who had secrets,” Julie told me. “Did you notice that?”

Julie is short and thin, with an angular but pretty face and librarian glasses. When she holds a problem up to the light, it’s as if she’s really examining it, giving it all her mind’s attention.

“I didn’t know her as long as you did,” I told her.

“No, you didn’t,” she stared at me thoughtfully. “And that’s an odd thing too, as the last boyfriend she introduced to me – well, they seemed almost at the point of getting engaged. She’d got that far into the relationship before she bothered to introduce him to her friends. And yet you, well, she introduced you almost at the start. I thought she must really, really like you.”

“What happened to that boyfriend?”

She shrugged. “They broke up not long after. Maybe he just wasn’t ready for an engagement.”

Another couple of drinks:

“I thought she was such a good mate,” Julie was tipsier now. “I really thought Alison was someone I could rely on, that I could really trust. And now this. I feel so cut off, so let down. I just don’t understand it.”

She stared at me and then reached across the table to clutch my hand.

“You must be gutted?” her voice was rich with emotion.

“I’ve felt better,” I told her, holding her fingers tight. “I just wish we could have talked about whatever was going on. I wished she’d confided in me, so I knew where I fucking stood.”

“Yeah you don’t want to ask that Katie bitch,” she let go of my hand to pick up her glass. “She thinks that just because she shagged that rock star that she’s all that!”

Another couple and we were both quite pissed:

“You’re a nice guy,” she said, “you seem reliable.”

“Thank you. You’re nice too.”

I’m not sure if she even heard me. “I never go out with nice guys. I never go out with reliable guys. I only go out with total dicks. It’s my friends I rely on to be reliable, and now they don’t seem reliable either.”

For a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears, but instead she just picked up her pint and knocked back half a glass and smiled at me.

We kissed at the end of the night. I waited for her outside the pub as she’d gone to the loo and when she emerged we kind of fell into each other’s arms. I don’t know if it was really a sexual thing, or we just needed to share some intimacy. But it felt good standing there on the South Bank holding her tight and feeling her lips on mine.

At the end she told me to call her.

I think I will.

Friday, 27th January

How could she just be there on the phone?
Where was she speaking from?

Why wouldn’t she tell me where she was?

Basically, what the fuck is going on?

All these questions are whirring through my head and I really have no idea how I’m supposed to get answers to them. Until Alison appears, who can I ask? I don’t want to go back and see Katie, as why would she tell me? She put me in touch with Alison, what more can I expect her to do?

No, all I can tell myself is to take the reassurance that she’s still okay. And from there, if I want to accept that I’m a single man again, that’s apparently fine.

I just wish I understood better what was going on.

January the 26th, 2012

Here’s a strange tale. One I’m still working through my mind. Certainly I have some resolution now, and yet in my head it doesn’t feel like anything’s resolved. It all too weird, seems too odd, it still feels too strange and uncanny to be fathomable.
I was outside the Icarus Gym at dawn today. The sun was just peeking over the rooftops as I arrived. This time I wasn’t going to fail, today I’d succeed.

Obviously I didn’t march up to the door again, instead taking my place at the corner. It occurred to me that as hard as I’d stared yesterday, I hadn’t stared hard enough. After all this is a girl I met once while quite dunk, I couldn’t just dismiss the figures coming in or out because a bulky coat made this woman seem too wide or heels made that woman seem too tall. This time I’d scrutinise them as best as I could – even leaving my corner so I could walk past them and see them up close.

(Before anyone says anything, I know this is odd. I know it’s stalker-like behaviour. I make no apology for my actions though. I needed to get answers.)

How long was I there for? I don’t know, maybe about two hours. Two hours that were crammed full of long tedious seconds, and moments of elation when I thought that must be, has to be her. I was disappointed numerous times, and then I wasn’t.

Suddenly there she was. She was walking down from the other end of the road in a long red, elegant coat. I’d seen her yesterday, I could remember her now – seeing that coat come out of the door and then turn the other direction without me getting chance to look at her face. Somehow I’d remembered her with wider hips and altogether squatter, but today she seemed tall and elegant – with a model’s gait and cheekbones most women would kill close friends for (even if her frizzy hair mitigated her glamour somewhat).

I dashed from the corner, restraining myself from actually running across the road at her. The purpose of all this was to get information, not scare the hell out of my girlfriend’s friend. She was talking on her mobile, chatting away when suddenly I appeared in a rush in front of her.

Such was the adrenalin pumping through me I couldn’t help blurting out, even though she was still on the phone: “Hey! Have you heard from Alison?”

There was a moment when she stared at me a little baffled, her wide brown eyes registering surprise but no shock (she’s far more attractive than I remember), before she gave a reply which astounded me:

“Yes, I’m speaking to her now.”

I think my mouth must have hung open for a minute or so, but it can’t have been that long as she calmly took the phone from her ear and handed it over to me.

“Would you like to speak to her?” she asked.

My fingers were shaking as I reached out for her mobile, and I was trembling all over by the time it got to my ear. She just watched me with knowing amusement, as if this was just an average day for her, like it was just a simple and harmless prank she was playing.

“Hello? Alison?”

The line was really crackly, and her voice when it came was so distant – like she was speaking ten foot from the phone – but I could tell she knew who it was. “Hey, you!”

 “Hi, how are you?”

(The dialogue does get thin at this point, but I was too stunned to think of anything meaningful to say.)

“I know you’ve been worried about me,” her voice sounding so far away “but all is fine. Tell anyone who asks that all is fine. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Where are you, Alison?”

“I’ll be in touch soon,” she said. “We can talk about everything and talk about us. I’ll understand if you want to think we’re on a break for now.”

“Where are you?” I asked again.

But she had her own sentence to repeat. “I’ll be in touch soon.” there was a crackled pause. “Can you pass me back to Katie please?”

Numbly and with my hand still shaking I passed the phone over to Alison’s friend.

Katie smiled at me – a sympathetic smile perhaps, and then resumed her conversation, skipping past me on the pavement and heading up the steps to the gym.

And I was left stood there in the road with my head zooming around the ether, having no idea what was going on or what had just happened.

I went home and lay down for the rest of the day.

January the 25th, 2012

Well I tried and failed today – but surprisingly I’m not down-hearted, I haven’t given up. I know where she works and I’m on the right track, I just need to be patient now. That’s been a problem for a large part of my life, I’m just too impatient. I don’t see things through properly. I’ll keep going now though.
The Icarus Gym is tucked away in a stately street, just off Piccadilly (very Bertie Wooster territory). I’d printed out the address, but even then I had to take a moment outside to convince myself I had the right place. This is such an exclusive gym that it doesn’t need to advertise itself to the world (thinking about it, I’m amazed they have any kind website). The marble facade and simple plaque on the door are discretion itself, it could be any high-scale private client law-firm, or upmarket doctor.

Nervously I climbed the steps and had my one moment of luck. The door opened and an overweight gentleman in a really good suit came out (he had a goatee and a fixed stare, so I put him down as some kind of wannnabe obligach). Rather than stand on the street, pressing the intercom, trying to explain to some disembodied voice what I wanted, I was able to just catch the door and go in.

The receptionist stared up at me a little nonplussed – people don’t just walk in there from the street – but she managed a smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m here to see Katie Price.”

Her eyebrow raised. “And do you have an appointment?”

“Not as such,” I started to say.

She cut me off, her tone suddenly like ice.

“Are you a member, sir?” she demanded.

“Well the thing is...”

She repeated her question, harder and colder than before.

“No, not as such.” I was forced to concede.

Her face had changed so much that it looked inconceivable she could even wear a smile.

“I’m afraid this gym is only for members, sir, so I will have to ask you to leave. I can explain the membership requirements to you if you like, but I can only do it over the phone.”

“Look I only need to see her for five minutes.”

“No, sir. This gym is only for members.”

There was no point continuing the debate. Her entire demeanour was such that to prolong it for even a matter of seconds would clearly see a man with more muscles than I could possibly imagine come out and escort me from the premises.

My tail tucked away between my legs, I went.

I must admit that there was a brief moment of depression when I re-emerged onto the street, but it passed. Before yesterday I had nothing, but now I had the full name and work address of one of Alison’s friends. What did it matter if I couldn’t see her actually within the gym? She’d have to come out some time.

Except she didn’t. I stood hidden away at a corner – stamping my feet to keep warm this cold January day – but she never appeared. Somehow I missed her, I don’t understand how that happened.

I’ll be back tomorrow though.

January the 24th, 2012

Finally, something!
I received an email from Julie just before close of business today. When the message dropped into my inbox I was stood up sorting out some papers, and nearly fell over into my seat when I saw it. She’s asked around and found that the name we’re looking for is Katie Price (yes, my eyebrow raised as well) and that she works in the private Icarus Gym in the West End. Even as I replied I was googling the number and dialling it. Yes, Katie Price does work there, but she wasn’t in today. I tried to find out what hours she’d be working tomorrow, but the receptionist became suddenly coy and suspicious.

It doesn’t matter. I’ll call in sick tomorrow and I’ll go there. I haven’t heard from Alison, nobody else seems to have heard from Alison – I need to know what’s going on. Quickly I emailed Julie to tell that I’d find this Katie tomorrow.

A final email arrived just as I was shutting up the computer, wishing me the best of luck, telling me to keep her posted.

January the 23rd, 2012

Now here’s some news. I got to my desk this morning to find an email from Alison’s friend Julie. She wanted to know if I’d heard from Alison yet, as Julie hasn’t and neither has any of their mutual friends. Ten days ago Julie told me not to worry, that all would be fine. Now my concern is not just a sign of an all too bonkers boyfriend.
I emailed back immediately and said that I still hadn’t heard from her and  have been getting more and more worried. I asked her if she knew how to get in touch with Katie, or indeed with any other Australian friend who might know where Alison is.

Julie said she knew who Katie was, but didn’t really know that much more about her than I did. However she promised to ask around and see what someone else might know. She said she’d get back to me shortly.

At the end of the day I was still waiting.

January the 21st, addendum

I’ve remembered it! Alison’s friend Katie is a physical therapist. It came to me this afternoon.
Just one problem though – how the hell does one track down a physical therapist? Particularly if you don’t happen to know her surname.