by Fox Brison
Perhaps he was losing interest.
Chapter 36
Adele
I’d spent most of the week working furiously on the Jordan project, but today my mind was elsewhere; if I kept denying my feelings for Joanne, was I subconsciously relinquishing control over my own life?
I wasn’t lying by omission, I was living by it.
Being with Joanne I constantly felt I was about to lose control, and the funny thing was, I think I liked it. Joanne was the mythical one we are all pre-programmed to spend our lives seeking. But was she any different to the girlfriends who haunted my past, spectres of nearly was, could have beens, and almost perfects?
The therapeutic debate I was having with myself wasn’t doing anything but make me more confused, and I was overjoyed when it was interrupted by my mobile buzzing. I was even happier when I saw who it was.
And that was a bigger warning sign than anything else that had happened so far.
“Hi, I was just thinking about you,” I said, trying to sound cool, so of course ended up sounding like a thirteen year old talking to her latest crush.
“Should I be worried?”
I laughed. “Not at all.” But I should be. “Are you on your break?”
“No, I’m at home. Adele, look, I’m really sorry, but I won’t be able to make it tonight.”
“What? Why? Are you ill?” Chicken soup popped into my head and I instantly clicked onto the web browser for cooking instructions and ingredients… or maybe I should just buy a fresh carton from Waitrose, I don’t want to make her feel worse… definitely orange juice for vitamin C…. Ooh and Galaxy chocolate, her favourite. I wanted to take care of her like she’d taken care of me.
“No, I’m not sick,” she said softly. “I’m just not in the mood for dinner with your boss.”
“Not in the… are you serious?” I saw my reflection in the window; my sour mien resembled one of someone who’d drank a three quid bottle of Lambrini when they were expecting to taste a two hundred pound bottle of champagne.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Adele.”
“I don’t understand, Joanne.” And I didn’t, I was genuinely confused. “I said we could call this quits, but you insisted we persist. And now four hours before we’re due at Mel and Adam’s, you let me down? Mel’s baked you an Alabama chocolate fudge cake for Christ’s sake… not now, I’m on the phone,” I barked at Janine and immediately felt awful. “Joanne, are you still there? Joanne?” I slammed the phone down on my desk and heard a familiar crack. It was the third screen I’d ruined in eight months. This wasn’t happening. Not today. Not when I was so close.
“Janine cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.” I stormed out; if I’d had to deal with a client who was even in the least bit intractable, they’d be leaving my office picking bits of plastic from their hair, the 3-d model having been smacked over their head.
It’s safe to say I was a wee bit pissed off.
Chapter 37
Adele
“Open up, Joanne.” I hammered on her door. “Joanne, let me-”
“Will you stop making that infernal racket and get in before someone calls the polis on you!” Joanne opened the door. In a towel. She still had soap in her hair. And that wasn’t doing anything for my blood pressure, except now it was stratospheric for an entirely different reason.
I stood in the hall and watched her disappear upstairs. I admired the view for one point two milliseconds before chastising myself for being weak willed. I heard the faint hum of the shower running and it took quite an effort not to dash up the stairs and offer to wash her back.
God. Damn. It, Adele! I scowled. Get a grip.
I sat down on the sofa before standing and pacing for a bit. I sat down again, this time in the armchair. I was a jack in the box with a nervous twitch.
“Stick the kettle on, I’ll be down in a minute,” Joanne hollered from the landing.
Okay then, I huffed sullenly. Do you want a sandwich with that? Or some cookies? I gazed out of the window into the neatly manicured postcard sized lawn with bright beds whilst I filled the kettle. I shouldn’t have rushed down here but…
But you were worried.
Yes I was. I was terrified. I was terrified she’d weighed me up with those discerning green eyes of hers and found me wanting. I was terrified I was going to lose her.
Despite never having her in the first place.
“So, after an impressive display of temper, Hulk Jackson, have you calmed down?” She asked, leaning nonchalantly against the jam of the door.
My head quickly bowed in shame and realisation that if I continued looking at her, she’d see my hunger, see the craving I was desperate to keep shrouded forever. “I’m sorry.” I heard footsteps as she came closer.
“No, Adele, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to hammer on my door like a mad woman, you don’t get to shout down the phone at me, and you certainly don’t get to stand there looking like a lost puppy and expect me to accept your apology!”
“Jo-”
“Did it never once cross your mind that I might just have decided enough was enough? That I was sick of lying to all those lovely people? Or even worse, lying to myself!”
Turning to brave the condescension and condemnation I was sure were in her eyes, I paused for a second to catch my breath. Every facet of Joanne Cassidy was twenty four caret quality, and today she was sublime. Her hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders and wavy kinks were already forming. She wore a pair of light cotton jogging pants that clung to her and a t-shirt which was low enough to give a perfect view of the gentle slope of her breasts. I touched the corner of my mouth to check I wasn’t drooling.
“Eyes up, stud,” she said.
Busted.
“You’re right,” I said stiffly. My voice wasn’t the only thing that was stiff. I throbbed with desire. Angry Joanne was as big, if not an even bigger, turn on than compassionate Joanne.
“I know I am.” She narrowed her eyes dubiously. “About what?”
“All of it. This sham was bound to fail at some point. Although I really wish you hadn’t let me down at the last possible minute. I’m going to look a bit of a fool.”
Joanne coiled like a cobra and then struck. “Yes, well, I should have your problems; Jesus, poor little Adele doesn’t have a date for her dinner party. Boo bloody hoo.”
“Where do you get off talking to me like that?” I took a step back. I was the angry one in this relationship, yet suddenly… my eyes narrowed. “What’s really going on?” What had caused Joanne to act so out of character? My fear temporarily blinded me to the obvious, but once the haze cleared, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Idiot, Adele. “Talk to me, Joanne. Is it your mum?”
She folded in on herself the anger, and I presumed adrenaline, leaving her as rapidly as it arrived. I rushed to her side and held her upright, because her own legs weren’t doing the job. “The bin,” she whispered and began to cry. My heart twisted hearing her wracking sobs. “I should… should have explained, but I was… embarrassed? Scared? I…I… received another present today.”
“Okay?” I was confused. Another present? I opened the bin and sitting on the top were the mangled remains of a dead bird. What the? I looked sharply at Joanne before closing down the lid. “Do any of your neighbours have cats? Bow started bringing me gifts like that - I even stepped on a dead mouse one morning; it was the last straw. After that I bought her a special collar which put an end to the macabre presents.” Joanne held no other emotion but fear in her eyes. “You don’t think a cat left it, do you,” I stated bluntly.
“No… I don’t know,” she qualified, albeit hesitantly. “I guess with everything else, I’m a little on edge.”
“Everything else? You mean the phone call?”
“Yes, and I’ve also been receiving notes and flowers. At first I thought they were from you because they started just after we met you see. But it soon became obvious they weren’t.”
“I’m
not romantic enough?” I asked with a rueful smile, acknowledging one of my shortcomings.
“Not at all. The notes were… how should I put this… not especially eloquent and well you have quite a poetic soul.” The compliment raised a soft blush on my cheeks. “Plus you flat out denied you’d sent them, claiming you weren’t twelve!”
“Let me get this straight, you think the bird, the notes, the phone calls are all down to the same person?” I ushered her back into the sitting room.
“I know it sounds crazy, but the notes have been growing progressively stranger. It’s hard to explain… threatening without being specifically menacing.” She chuckled wearily as she slowly swivelled in her seat. “It seems my secret admirer, has escalated to secret stalker.” The words carried such scorn that I almost missed the sliver of distress. Almost. “The phone calls are increasing in frequency.” She choked out a laugh. “This afternoon I was a character in an incredibly poor rip off of Scary Movie, you know the deep breaths on one end of the line, the harried, ‘hello, hello, who is this?’ on the other. I quickly disconnected, but they kept calling back. I didn’t answer the second time, nor the tenth. There haven’t been any since you arrived.”
“Did you try caller I.D?”
“The number was withheld,” she said wearily. “Whoever it is, they’re careful. I wasn’t too bothered until the texts started.” There was another shiver and I put my arm around her shoulder to offer my warmth and hopefully my strength. “They are… demented… I don’t know how else to describe them.”
“Let me see? Please?” I held out my hand, but she shook her head.
“I delete them as soon as I get them now.”
“Have you any idea who might be behind it?”
“Well there’s Geoff, my English teacher. I see him everywhere I go. He was even in Morrisons yesterday afternoon.”
“Coincidence?” I mooted, although secretly I doubted it. I remember the look he gave me the night I picked Joanne up from college. It was disconcerting to say the least.
“That’s what I thought. But my friend Lorna, who also takes his class, is sure he lives in Leith. Why would he shop at the Dalkeith Morrisons?”
“It’s close to college for him?” I played devil’s advocate. “It could be a self-fulfilling prophecy. You’re looking for him, so you see him more? Why don’t you try talking to him?”
“I’m worried that if I do, he could mark me down. Nothing major, but enough to stymie my university application. Plus what if I’m way off the mark and he’s completely innocent.”
“For starters, he can’t mark you down,” I reassured her. “You could appeal and he’d be gated for it.”
“I’m also afraid the only reason I’ve been getting distinctions is because, you know.”
“Because he’s attracted to you?”
“Aye.”
“Joanne, any grade you’ve been given has been earned. All exams and coursework are moderated. He couldn’t give you an unfair advantage no matter how infatuated he is with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I said emphatically.
“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that, thanks” she said quietly. “Anyway, enough. He’s twisted my heed plenty for one day. What’s this?” Joanne picked up a large A3 envelope I’d dropped on the kitchen table when I first came in. “It’s not another contract is it?” She smiled, feebly.
I chuckled. “No, it was on your…” My eyes widened. “Maybe I should open it.”
She handed it over. “Adele, the handwriting…” her voice and hands quivered. “God it’s the same as the notes. Who’s doing this to me? Why are they doing this to me?”
I cautiously lifted the flap and when nothing jumped out, I relaxed a smidgen.
Until I saw the photos.
They were of Joanne and I the night we went out in Edinburgh. It was a photographic diary of the entire evening, from leaving my office building to entering Chic to Chic. There was even one of Joanne going into the changing rooms at New Look and another of us holding hands as we walked. More chilling, however, was that in every single photo my face was viciously scored out. Joanne’s face whitened even further, if that was at all possible.
“I also keep seeing the same blue car in really random places but I put it down to coincidence and paranoia. But those photos are no coincidence.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “What am I going to do, Adele?”
“I think you should come and stay with me,” I said, instantly seeking my default setting of taking control. “Go and pack.”
“No,” she sat up straighter. “I’m not being run out of my house by some bampot.”
“I don’t like it, Joanne.”
“And you think I do?” she snapped.
“Then come and stay with me.” The notion that someone was keeping tabs on her with such scrutiny they knew her schedule had my heart racing so fast, my Harley would have been left in its wake. Being displaced from her house was the least of her worries, not that I said as much. There was no point worrying her unnecessarily. “Whoever’s doing this is unhinged.” I winced. Way to go, Adele, I’m sure that put her mind at ease! “Have your neighbours seen anything?”
“No… I asked, but most people work through the day. I was beginning to think I was imagining it.”
We both looked at the photographs again. There was no way we were sharing an hallucination. “Do you have any of the letters? We’ll need evidence to give to the police.”
“The police?” She frowned.
“Yes, the police. You have to report this, Joanne, it’s gone way too far already.”
“You’re right,” she sighed. “Will you call?” She looked up at me hopefully.
“Of course.” I picked up my own phone at the same time as Joanne’s beeped. “Can I?” I asked and she nodded fearfully.
This was no secret admirer, this was a bona fide loco stalker. There were no references to romance, no avowals of adoration. Anger and rage roared through my body, closely followed by fear.
“Adele, let me see.” I handed it over wordlessly, and her eyes glazed over as she read the message. Swallowing several times, she threw the phone down, and ran into the kitchen, where I heard the distinct sounds of her retching. I looked at the screen which was still visible.
I’m gonna slice ur whore into a million pieces. Ur mine.
The words were unambiguous and brutal. But what was worse? The fucker added a smiling emoji followed by one with hearts for eyes.
***
“So that was a complete waste of time,” Joanne sniffed into her handkerchief once the police left.
“At least they’ve been to the house and they’ve taken your phone. Sergeant Anderson seemed to be taking the matter seriously now they have proof of a threat of actual harm. She said this isn’t the first case she’s dealt with, she knows what-”
“Jo? Jo! Where are you?”
“In the kitchen,” Joanne called.
“Christ, is everything alright?” The bombshell that exploded into the room glared at me accusingly, before rushing to Joanne’s side. “Whit’s gawn on? Mah mam phoned me at work and said the polis was here!”
“Someone’s stalking her.” I said it brusquely in a vain attempt to hide my anger. That wasn’t what Joanne needed. Support and care were the only emotions warranted at this juncture. However, if I ever caught sight of the sick fucker responsible for this, my rage would have its emancipation.
“Stalking? You mean Geoff?” Ashleigh asked.
“I don’t know, Ash, I just don’t know anymore.” Joanne shrugged her shoulders. “I’m hoping it is him because if it isn’t…” she faltered. “If it isn’t him then I haven’t got a clue who it is, which is even scarier. Is it someone I sat next to on the bus, or queued behind me at the checkout in Morrisons? I feel like a pawn in a twisted little game some sicko has decided to play,” she cried plaintively.
“Right then, go and pack, you’re coming home with me,” Ashl
eigh said firmly.
“I can’t.”
“Why not. Give me one good bloody reason!”
“I’ll give you three and they’re all under eight years of age,” Joanne said calmly.
“She’s staying with me,” I settled their quarrel. “No arguments, Joanne. I have a state of the art alarm system three spare rooms. Besides, I always order too much takeaway.” I would use any and every contention in the dating for dummies handbook to remove Joanne from this place and into a safe haven. “Maybe it would be best to take a few days off work,” I proposed.
“I can’t afford to do that,” she said lowly.
“Money isn’t important,” I objected strenuously. I didn’t particularly want to be having this discussion, and definitely not in front of her friend whose expression was filled to the brim with antipathy and disgust.
“Only someone with money would say that!” Ashleigh reared up.
“Ashleigh McLaughlin, that was out of line” Adele’s just trying to help,” Joanne rushed to my defence.
“Trying to help? This crap only started when you met her. She could be the one behind it for all we know. I mean she’s quite fond of twisted ‘games,’ look what she’s had you doing for the past month.”
“Adele saved my mam’s life and probably mine if I’m honest. She isn’t responsible, she’s become a target because of me. The last text I got threatened to slice her into tiny pieces. I can’t place anyone I l…” she stopped. “I can’t place anyone else in danger.”
Ashleigh pursed her lips, chagrined. “I’m sorry, Jo, I’m scared.” She turned to me. “I apologise, Adele, I didn’t mean to accuse you.”
“Forget it, this has shaken us all up. So it’s settled, Joanne’s coming with me,” I said forthrightly.
“And if I refuse?”
“If you refuse I’ll stay here with you and if you object to that, I’ll sleep in my car outside if I have to,” I said defiantly.