Strange Sally Diamond

Wasn’t she even curious about the house? When we walked towards the lake, we never passed the house. She couldn’t see it from the barn door. I invited her again, the following weekend. I unplugged the phone that never rang and hid it in the car. She tentatively stepped inside the front door and went from room to room. ‘There’s so much space,’ she said, and I guess, compared to the barn, there was. I asked her to stay the night, but she couldn’t get comfortable in my bed and eventually nudged me to tell me she was going back to the barn. I nodded my agreement and pretended to go back to sleep. I watched from the window as she made her way. I followed at a distance until I saw her pull the door of the barn open and disappear inside. She closed it behind her. I stayed up all night, watching the door, waiting for her to sneak out. She didn’t.

The following week, I called the office and told them I was sick. Every morning, I’d drive out on to the dirt road and park the car out of sight. I walked back to the bushy area opposite the house and watched with binoculars to see if she would try to escape. Every evening I’d come ‘home from work’ to find her contentedly watching TV or knitting or preparing dinner. The most she had done was walk around the outside of the house, looking in the windows. She didn’t even try the door, though I’d left it open. She greeted me cheerfully every evening, her gap-toothed smile broad and her blue eyes twinkling.

Eventually, I persuaded her to come into the house for dinner sometimes, but she was always nervous there. ‘It’s the ghost of your father,’ she said, and indeed, some of his belongings were still around the house. I don’t know why I’d held on to his spectacles and his dentist’s bag. I threw them out immediately. I password protected my laptop, not that she had a clue how to use it. I had a mobile phone for work. Lindy had seen them on TV but wouldn’t know how to turn it on. I kept it hidden anyway.

A few months passed. Lindy was free to go anywhere she wanted. She presented me with a handmade quilt for Christmas 2011. We celebrated in the house together for the first time. I’d bought a tree and decorations and she festooned the tree with tinsel and fairy lights. I’d also bought a bottle of wine. Neither of us was used to alcohol and got drunk quickly. It was a pleasant feeling. We sat on the porch in front of the house shaded from the blazing midsummer heat and toasted each other like a real married couple.

I thought about whether it would be wise to bring Lindy into town. I dismissed the idea quickly. She had never asked about it and we would both have to agree on a new name and backstory. Lindy seemed to have forgotten that she had been kidnapped. I didn’t want to remind her. And I guessed she might behave strangely around other people. No, Lindy was mine. I did not dare to share her with the outside world. I was happier than I had ever been. So was she.

I came home from work one day the following March, and went straight to the barn because she still preferred it there, but realized she must be in the house. I called her name and went from room to room. I found her, passed out on the bathroom floor. Her face was clammy and hot to touch. There were pools of vomit on the floor around her.

The previous two nights, she had complained of stomach pains and I’d asked her to describe her symptoms exactly. I always did this when she was unwell. Then I’d go to the chemist and describe the same symptoms and bring home whatever they wanted to sell me. She had described it as a rumbling pain across her lower belly. I assumed it was period pain and she agreed that her period was due but she said this pain felt different. That morning, she’d felt worse, and she did look pale.

After work I’d gone to the chemist and described the pain. The chemist asked me to press the right side of my abdomen, and when I didn’t express any further pain, she gave me some Domerid for nausea and paracetamol for pain. ‘It’s not appendicitis. It might be something you ate,’ she said, ‘or a stomach flu – there’s one going around, you know.’

In a panic, I doused Lindy with cold water to reduce the temperature and wake her up. She screamed in pain and clutched her right side. ‘Shit! It must be your appendix, I need to get you to a hospital.’ I didn’t hesitate. It would be quicker to take her myself than to call an ambulance. She screamed again as I lifted her and vomited over my elbow.

‘I’m scared,’ she managed to say.

‘Don’t be, they’ll fix you right up.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m scared of them. People.’