Because She Loves Me

by Mark Edwards

  Here it was: the difficult moment that would repeat all the while I was friends with Sasha. ‘I’m not sure. Charlie’s coming round.’

  Sasha was silent.

  ‘Are you still there?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. But it’s all right. I’ll find someone else to talk to. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Hang on.’ I really wanted to see Charlie tonight, but it wouldn’t do any harm to meet Sasha for an hour, would it? ‘I’m sorry, Sash, of course I’ll meet you. Where and when?’

  ‘My place at six-thirty?’

  I texted Charlie and told her I’d be out for a little while with Sasha. She didn’t reply.

  Sasha texted me at six to ask if we could meet in The Commercial as she didn’t want to go straight home. Will all make sense later! the text read.

  She was already at the pub when I got there, with a glass of red wine that was so big it was more like a bowl. I asked for what she was having and as I neared the table, Sasha got up and hugged me.

  ‘I really hate to admit it, but I missed you,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, I kind of missed you too. A smidge.’

  ‘A smidge? A smidge? Bloody cheek.’

  ‘So tell me what’s been going on,’ I said.

  Before answering, Sasha looked around like a spy in a black and white movie. She wasn’t doing it ironically though; she genuinely appeared concerned that someone might be listening in. The pub was busy with the after-work crowd. There was an important match on later which the pub was showing on a big screen, so the pub was filling up with a second wave of drinkers: young men, mostly, in football shirts. It was noisy and Sasha should have had to raise her voice to be heard. But as she spoke, the background hubbub dropped away so all I could hear was her voice.

  ‘Someone’s been following me around,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just that. I first noticed it a couple of weeks ago, when I was coming home from work.’

  ‘When it was snowing?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I was, like, struggling home, head down like this, because the wind was trying to blow my face off, and there was hardly anyone around . . . That was when I started to think someone was behind me, like I could feel eyes on me.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘But when I looked round there was no one there. The street was empty. There was a van over the road and I was convinced they were hiding behind it.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I headed home as fast as I could. I tapped in 999 and had my thumb hovering over the call button, just in case. And that wasn’t the last time. It’s happened at least twice more, once when I was coming home from the pub, quite late. And once at the weekend, in the middle of the day. I was walking through the park and I was sure someone had followed me in and all the way through. But every time I looked round there was no one there.’

  ‘Do you think you imagined it?’

  ‘I’m not completely gaga yet, Andrew. But, actually, yeah, I did wonder that. Of course. But that time in the park, I retraced my footsteps and someone burst out of the bushes and legged it across the grass. Nearly gave me a heart attack.’

  ‘Christ. What did they look like?’

  ‘Dressed all in black. Slim. Wearing a hat. I mean, if there was a uniform for a burglar or stalker, he or she was wearing it.’

  ‘He or she?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, they looked very slim . . . like it could be a woman. But they were moving pretty fast and were obscured by all the bushes and trees.’

  I stared at her. ‘You know, I was followed by someone. Or I thought I was. That night after I watched Blair Witch at yours. And so was Charlie – someone followed her through the park. But when we went to look for them there was no one there.’

  ‘That’s weird,’ she said. ‘But, actually, if it wasn’t for the other stuff—’ She held up a hand to let her continue. ‘If it wasn’t for the other stuff, that would make me feel better. Make me think that it wasn’t me they were targeting specifically. I mean, if there was a mugger or some weirdo in the area, who was following anyone who happened by at the right time, I wouldn’t feel so paranoid.’

  ‘But?’ I asked.

  She stood up. ‘I’m going to need another drink. Same again?’

  ‘Sasha, what is it?’

  She glanced around her and leaned forward. ‘I haven’t told you about the other stuff yet. The really creepy stuff.’

  Twenty-three

  Sasha came back from the bar and pushed a fresh glass of wine towards me. The football had started and people were shouting encouragement and abuse at the screen but I could barely hear them. I hadn’t noticed before how pale and ill Sasha looked. Dark circles under her eyes, a waxy complexion, bloodshot pupils, lank hair. She had looked like she was suffering before, when she first split with Lance, but her appearance had worsened considerably since I’d last seen her, when she came round for dinner.

  ‘Tell me what’s happened,’ I said.

  ‘OK. Well, firstly, someone’s been in my flat while I was out.’

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It happened twice. The first time, I think it took me a little while to notice, but then I realised: some of the stuff in my flat had moved. For example, I’ve got these three zebras that stand on my mantelpiece.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve seen them.’

  ‘Well, someone turned them the other way round, to face the wall. And that’s not all. You know I have my books arranged in strict alphabetical order by author?’

  ‘Your library, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly. A lot of the books had been rearranged, put out of place. DVDs had been swapped around too, so the wrong ones were in the wrong cases. I never do that. It’s one of my things.’

  ‘I know.’ I had once found myself at the end of a barrage of insults for returning one of Sasha’s box sets with several of the DVDs in the wrong place.

  ‘At first I thought I was going mad, that I must have done it when I was cleaning.’

  ‘You don’t have a cleaner?’

  ‘No, we’re not all as middle-class as you.’

  ‘Hey, I only—’

  ‘I’m kidding. I haven’t got to the weirdest bit yet. I’ve got a load of fridge magnets – you know, those little plastic letters. The second time this happened, I got home and found that someone had left a message on the fridge door for me. KEEP AWAY. Spelt out mostly using the red letters.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  She nodded. ‘I know, right. And get this – my butcher’s knife was lying on the worktop above the fridge. I’m certain I’d left it in the block when I went out. When I found it, I completely freaked out. I had to go and stay with my mum for a few days. When I got back I chucked my toothbrush away – I mean, you hear all those stories, don’t you? – and scrubbed and bleached everything.’

  ‘Did you call the police?’

  ‘Huh. What’s the point? There’s no evidence, is there? They’ll think it’s me, that I’m bonkers or making it all up. Anyway, that part of it has stopped. I installed a camera, pointing at the door. It’s rigged up to trigger if someone comes in. I’ve been running it for the last week and no one has entered the flat apart from me. But there’s been other stuff happening.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Someone standing outside my flat at night, for one. Hang-ups on the phone. My doorbell ringing and there being no one there when I answer.’

  ‘Oh, Sasha.’

  I reached out and took her hand. It was shaking.

  ‘I’m really scared,’ she said.

  ‘You need to go to the police,’ I said.

  ‘No. Because . . . because I know who it is. What it’s all connected to. It’s Lance and Mae, maybe her brothers. It has to be.’<
br />
  I stared at her. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Who else would it be? Lance is still angry with me for threatening to do him for sexual harassment. And, well, I did something stupid. I went round to his house when I knew his wife was out at her gym class. We always used to meet on Tuesday evenings, when Mae was doing spinning. He said what we were doing was his exercise.’

  I pulled a ‘yuk’ face.

  ‘Hey, I did love him, you know. Or I thought I did. We all make stupid mistakes, don’t we? Anyway, I went to their house, but she wasn’t out. She opened the door and started screeching at me. She went berserk.’

  I wasn’t sure I could blame her, but I didn’t say that to Sasha. ‘Why did you go round there?’

  ‘Because I wanted to smooth things over. This was just after I came to yours for dinner and I was feeling wound up. It was two days later that I first thought someone was following me. I told you about the threats Mae made back when she found out about the affair, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yeah, you did. But how would Mae or her brothers get into your flat?’

  Sasha looked away. ‘Lance had a key. I gave it to him so he could let himself in. We had this thing where – oh, this is really embarrassing – sometimes he would let himself in during the night and sneak into my room, get into bed with me and have sex with me, then slip out without saying anything. Don’t look at me like that. It was exciting.’

  ‘It sounds like he was using you, Sasha.’

  She shook her head. ‘We were using each other.’

  ‘Please tell me you’ve changed the locks now.’

  A great roar swept across from the other side of the pub. Someone had scored. Sasha said, ‘No.’

  ‘For God’s sake . . . why not?’

  ‘I was hoping to catch whoever it is. So I’d have some evidence. But I’m going to change the locks tomorrow.’

  ‘What a nightmare,’ I said. I paused, then added, ‘I think Charlie’s right. You should look for a new job, make a clean break.’

  She scowled. ‘Why should I be the one who suffers? That prick will probably be fucking another impressionable young woman in a year’s time.’

  ‘Sasha, you just told me you were using him too.’

  She seemed to deflate, putting her head in her hands. ‘I know. You’re right. I just don’t want to leave that job. I love it too much.’

  I gave up. It wasn’t my place to tell her what to do. But I could make sure she was safe. ‘You really have to get the locks changed tomorrow. Don’t walk around on your own. I guess the police won’t do anything unless they have evidence of a crime taking place, but I think you should talk to them, get it logged, just in case. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  She downed the dregs of her wine. ‘Will you walk me home?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I was going to insist on it.’

  We ended up getting a taxi as I couldn’t face the long walk with my crutch. I was physically exhausted. When we got to the flat, I said, ‘Let me come in, just in case there’s anyone there.’

  She nodded, her face etched with worry.

  Inside the flat, she looked around, checking the book case, the fridge, the bedroom. ‘It all looks normal. I don’t think anyone’s been here.’ She took a bottle of wine off the rack. ‘Do you want another drink?’

  ‘I don’t know – I should get back.’

  Sasha made an ‘under the thumb’ gesture.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ I said.

  ‘You’re not going to get rolling-pinned if you’re late?’

  ‘You’re hilarious.’

  Sasha crossed to the window and looked out. She was visibly trembling.

  ‘Sasha, are you going to be all right? I’m really worried about you.’ I joined her by the window. The street was deserted, trees bending in the wind, litter swirling in the dark corners.

  Her voice was quiet. ‘I’m worried. What if one of Mae’s brothers tries to get in during the night? Rapes me in my bed? I can see it happening, the night before I actually get the locks changed.’

  ‘I’ll stay,’ I said.

  ‘No, don’t be silly.’

  I wasn’t sure how Charlie would react to me staying over at Sasha’s. But Sasha was my best friend. There was no way I could leave her in this state. ‘I’ll stay here on the sofa. I’ll be your guard dog. Then tomorrow, we’ll call a locksmith, get this situation sorted, and talk to the police. All right?’

  Her eyes were wet. ‘You’re a good friend, Andrew.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I know. I haven’t been much of a friend recently though, have I?’

  She sat down on a beanbag in front of the TV. ‘I’ll make more of an effort with Charlie, I promise. I know how important she is to you. And if I’m still going to be your friend, I’m going to have to get on with your missus, aren’t I?’

  ‘It would help. Thanks Sasha.’ I took out my phone. ‘Right, I’d better call Charlie, let her know what I’m doing.’

  I looked over at the dry cleaning bag, which I’d left by the door. I didn’t think Charlie needed the suit tomorrow. Regardless, this was more important.

  ‘What’s that?’ Sasha asked.

  ‘Oh, just a suit of Charlie’s. I had it cleaned today.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re turning into a good little house-husband, aren’t you?’

  ‘Sasha.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  Sasha dug a blanket and spare pillow out of her airing cupboard and I lay on the sofa, uncomfortable but pretty drunk. Sasha and I had polished off a bottle of wine after we’d got back, then she’d ordered a delivery pizza and we’d spent the evening watching television, taking the piss out of reality TV contestants like we were students again, though our hearts weren’t in it. Every now and then, Sasha would get up and look out the front window, but there was never anything to see.

  To my relief, Charlie had been cool about me staying over at Sasha’s, making a joke about how it was my loss, and I was pleased to have made things up with my best friend. The unspoken falling out had been stupid and I wouldn’t let it happen again.

  I must have fallen into a drunken sleep after a long time fidgeting on the sofa. The next thing I knew, someone was hissing my name.

  ‘Andrew.’

  I opened my eyes, groggy and confused. ‘What? What is it?’

  ‘I think someone just tried to get in.’

  I sat up. Sasha was in a pair of fleece pyjamas, holding a bread knife.

  ‘What the hell are you doing with that?’ I asked.

  She just looked at me with wild eyes.

  ‘Sasha, put it back. What happened?’

  ‘I put the chain on the door before I went to bed. I just heard it rattle. Someone was trying to get in.’

  I pulled on my jeans and hobbled over to the front door. I wouldn’t be much use with my bad leg if I needed to chase someone. Or run away. The door seemed securely closed, the chain in place. I slid it back and opened the door, looking out into the hallway, which always smelled of some kind of meat stew.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, my voice echoing in the darkness. I stepped into the hall.

  ‘Don’t go out there,’ Sasha said, peering through the doorway behind me.

  ‘It’s fine. There’s no one here.’

  Sasha went back inside and I heard her pad over to the window. Then she shouted, ‘There!’

  I rushed in, as fast as I could – which was frustratingly slowly – and found her pointing at the street.

  ‘Down there,’ she said, her voice squeaking. ‘I saw someone. They went behind that van.’

  ‘Call the police,’ I said.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Please, Sasha. Just do it.’

  She went off to find her mobile in the bedroom. When she came back, her face was so pa
le it was almost transparent.

  ‘There was a new message on my phone,’ she said. ‘Like the ones I got before. But worse.’

  She gulped.

  ‘What does it say?’ I asked, still looking at the street. I couldn’t see anybody out there. The wind was still blowing hard.

  ‘Take a look,’ Sasha said, handing me the phone.

  There were two words on the screen, written in block capitals.

  YOU’RE DEAD.

  Twenty-four

  Neither Sasha nor I could get back to sleep after that. I sat on the sofa drinking weak coffee while she paced the room, staring out the window and checking the chain was on the door every two minutes. By the time the sun came up I was exhausted, had that post-red-eye flight feeling, scratchy eyes and fuzzy brain.

  The text had been sent from a blocked number. A quick Google search showed us how easy this is to do: there are numerous apps that allow you to either create a fake number to send from or block the caller ID altogether.

  As soon as it got light, Sasha called a locksmith, telling them it was an emergency, and they promised to arrive within the hour.

  ‘You need to call the police next,’ I said.

  She chewed her lip. ‘I really don’t want to. What am I going to do, tell them I suspect the boss I had an affair with, or his wife? It’s going to cause so much shit. I’ll be humiliated. It will be the talk of the office and most people will think I deserve it. Oh God . . .’

  I took her by the shoulders. ‘Sasha, you have to do it.’

  ‘OK, OK.’ She took a shuddering breath. She held the phone to her ear and dialled the police station, and I listened to her tell someone what had happened. ‘They’re going to send someone round a bit later.’

  I tried to bite down on a yawn but she saw.

  ‘You look knackered. You should go home.’

  ‘No, I’ll stay and wait for the police to come.’

  This time, I was unable to suppress the yawn. I was dizzy and my body was screaming at me to let it sleep.

  ‘No, honestly. You get back, get some kip. I’ll be fine. The locksmith will be here soon and then I’ll wait in for the police. You don’t need to be here for that.’