by Adam Croft
‘So how have things been?’ he asks. It doesn’t sound like he’s fishing for info — he seems genuinely interested.
‘Yeah, not too bad,’ I lie. ‘Well, I say that. I’ve not been too well recently so I’ve had a bit of time off work.’
‘Nothing serious, I hope?’
‘No, just a few dizzy spells and things. Doctor reckons I need to take it easy for a while. Not going to argue with that,’ I say, smiling before I take a sip of my drink.
‘Hence the absence on Thursdays,’ he adds, before taking a mouthful of his pint.
‘Yeah, sorry about that. I should have called or texted, I know. I’ve just been so scatty recently.’
‘Honestly, don’t worry about it,’ he says. ‘To be honest, most people tend to flake permanently and I don’t hear a word from them again. The fact you got back to me is a good start.’
I don’t know whether to be pleased with myself or not.
‘So you come here a lot?’ I ask him, trying to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about myself; I want to find out more about him.
‘Depends what you mean by a lot.’ He shows me a cheeky smile, two dimples appearing at the creases of his cheeks as he does so.
‘Breakfast, lunch and dinner?’
He laughs. ‘Not quite that often, no. But I am partial to the odd pint a few times a week. Arrest me.’ He holds out his arms towards me, wrists pointed skywards as he chuckles. I get flashbacks of being in the police station twice this week, but I try to force a smile anyway. ‘Symptom of living on my own, I guess. Gets a bit quiet around the house in the evenings. There’s only so much Mad Men a guy can watch.’
I smile, then realise it wasn’t because of the joke, but because he mentioned living on his own. ‘I’ve never seen it,’ I say.
‘Oh, it’s brilliant. No question. But your brain starts to veg out after about six episodes.’ He laughs again. ‘Sign of the times, I guess.’
I leave it a moment before speaking.
‘Do you not have a housemate or anything, then?’
He looks down at his hands and smiles.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—’
‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘Really. And no, I don’t have a housemate. Nor a wife. Nor a girlfriend. Nor a boyfriend.’
I put on the best deadpan face I can muster. ‘That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?’
He looks at me for a moment, then smiles again as we both laugh. This is how it should be. This is what I like. I don’t want danger, I don’t want excitement and I certainly don’t want woolly jumpers and yes-men. I want someone who understands me, who gets my style. Someone I can have a laugh with, someone whose company I can enjoy.
I think of Kieran, and how completely different he is to Simon. And how different they both are to previous boyfriends I’ve had. They can be likened to drinks. I’ve had my fair share of vodka shots and Jägerbombs in the past, but Simon is a quality glass of red wine. Kieran, on the other hand is... Well, he’s tap water. Because he’s decided it’d be easier and more convenient just to drive.
Listen to me. Going on about Simon as if there’s something that’s going to happen between us. This is the first time we’ve even seen each other socially, outside of the classes, and I’m comparing him to previous boyfriends. But I think that’s exactly why. Even though this is the first social outing we’ve had, I feel completely comfortable with him. It’s almost as if it’s absolutely fine to see him once a week or every now and again. It doesn’t feel as though there’s that compulsion to keep meeting up with him every five minutes, either on my part or his. It strikes me that that’s been the problem in more or less all my relationships up until now. And it’s not always been the guy’s fault.
But, most importantly, it’s come at the right time. It’s giving me hope. It’s giving me something to hold onto. And I’m sure as hell not going to let go.
It’s all I’ve got.
41
The one saving grace about keeping a friendship with Kieran is that I know I can rely on him if I need him. And right now I really need him.
The early morning sun streams in through my kitchen window, and I’m secretly quite proud of myself for getting up so early on a Saturday morning. But I know exactly why I have. I’m renewed with vigour. I’ve got a focus. A direction. A plan.
‘This is going to sound really weird,’ I say to Kieran, cradling the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I try to do the washing up, ‘but do you still speak to your mate Danny or David? The guy who works for the police.’
‘Darryl? Yeah sometimes. Why’s that?’
I wipe my hands dry on my jeans and scribble Darryl down on the kitchen notepad, just under bacon and bread. ‘Oh, just wondered. I thought I saw him in town the other day, but I’ve not seen him in years. Forgot all about him, actually.’ Well, the last part’s true. To be honest, I doubt I’d recognise him if he walked into my kitchen right now and introduced himself. But if my hazy memory is right, Kieran’s friend could be the key to unlocking all this. ‘He worked in IT or something, didn’t he?’
‘Erm, I think so, yeah,’ Kieran replies. ‘Something to do with their internal servers. He’s civilian staff, though. Not actually a police officer.’
‘Cool. I thought I recognised him. So how’s things? I ask, changing the subject to make this sound more like a random, friendly call than a fishing expedition.
Unfortunately, Kieran tells me exactly how things are. He tells me about his week at work, the trouble he’s been having with his boiler and his hunt for a new housemate.
‘That reminds me. You still on for tonight?’ I ask him, even though whatever he just said obviously didn’t remind me of anything.
‘Yeah, course. What’s it all about?’
I shrug, even though he can’t see me over the phone. ‘Dunno. Just thought we should catch up.’ I sigh. ‘Call it me mending bridges. I was a cow the other day.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says. I can hear him smiling as he speaks.
‘Hey, why don’t you invite Darryl along? Be a good chance to catch up. If he’s free, I mean.’
As soon as I say this, I realise how weird it sounds. I was actually thinking of looking him up on Facebook via Kieran’s friends list, but I want to keep away from the digital world if I can. What if my online activities are being watched?
A thought hits me. Shit. What if everything I do is being watched? What if Gavin Armitage has put microphones or cameras in my house? Or bugged my phone? Fuck fuck fuck. It’s too late now. I’ve had the conversation with Kieran. It’s been said now. That leaves me only one choice. I need to put this plan into action quickly.
‘Well yeah, I can do,’ Kieran says, in the sort of voice that has a subtext of But why the hell would you want me to do that?
I laugh a little. ‘This is going to sound so stupid. But if you can keep a secret... I’m thinking about writing a book. One of those things I’ve always wanted to do, you know. And there’s this bit I’m thinking about which needs some research. When I saw—’ I glance down at my shopping list. ‘—Darryl, it reminded me about it. I thought he might be able to help.
‘Yeah. Sure. Sounds good. But why tonight?’
‘Dunno. Just thought as we were meeting tonight anyway. No time like the present and all that. Besides which, I need to get started with writing it or I’ll never do it. It’ll be good for me. Therapeutic, perhaps.’
Kieran seems to consider this more favourably now. I thought he might.
‘Alright. I’ll send him a message, see what he says.’
‘Great. See you tonight then,’ I say, before we say our goodbyes and I end the call.
Instead of locking my phone and putting it back in my pocket, I open up the Photos app and look again at the picture of Gavin Armitage — or whatever his real name is — and for the first time in a while I smile. Genuinely smile. And I think to myself: Gotcha.
42
It being a Sat
urday, Mandy’s off work, so we arrange to meet for coffee. Somehow it seems healthier than a few drinks in the evening, but I’m not sure the overdose of caffeine from the super-strong coffees the local chain serves is going to be any better than getting shitfaced on wine. It eases my conscience a little, though. Until tonight, when I’ll be meeting Kieran and Darryl.
I wonder if I can get away with ordering a decaf. I’d have to be the one going up and ordering, though, and I’d have to get Mandy to sit down. Otherwise she’d hone in on it like a guided missile and want to know why I wanted decaf. Was I pregnant? Ill? Hungover? Dying? The truth is my head is splitting. I stopped taking my medication yesterday.
I know. But I need to think clearly. Properly clearly. It’s hard to describe, but it’s impossible to pursue a clear train of thought when you’re on those things. I know I’ve got the withdrawal stages to go through first. In the short term, it’s going to be worse. But it’ll be worth it for the long-term gains. And I’m currently feeling the full force of the initial short-term symptoms. Headaches, some nausea and that damn electric pulsing at my temples. It’s not fun, but I’m determined to ride it out for the greater good.
Plenty of water, plenty of rest. Well, one out of two is a good start.
The coffee shop is busier than I expected it’d be. It seems it’s not just me who’s had the idea of the disingenuous health kick. Fortunately, Mandy’s sitting on the other side of the room with a full cup of coffee, so I’m able to order my sneaky decaf and take it over to the table without being quizzed. I really don’t think throwing caffeine into the mix with this headache is going to help. I’ll leave that to the ibuprofen.
True to form, Mandy dives straight in with the question she’s been wanting to ask me — the reason she invited me here — as if I didn’t already know.
‘So? How did it go?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I think we might be getting somewhere.’
Mandy makes a high-pitched squeal and starts clapping her forearms together like a performing sealion, lifting her knees up and banging her feet down like a frenzied cyclist. It’s not something I’ve ever seen her do before. It was almost feminine. Almost.
‘I’m not getting my hopes up just yet, though,’ I add.
‘So what happened? Why the sudden change of heart on their part?’
I shrug. ‘I dunno. Maybe they finally realised I was for real.’
‘But you told them he was a copper, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And?’
‘And I got the response I expected. I think. They weren’t expecting me to come out with it, and I think they were skeptical, but at the same time they have to take those sorts of allegations seriously, don’t they?’
Mandy murmurs her agreement as she swallows a mouthful of cappuccino. The froth clings to her upper lip like a moustache. ‘So are they investigating him?’
‘I dunno,’ I say. ‘I hope so. I had to go down to the police station again and look through a pile of photographs of police officers, to identify him.’
‘And you did?’
I hesitate for a moment. I try not to, but it’s unavoidable. I never have been a good liar. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I identified him.’
‘To the police?’ she asks, as if she’s rumbled me immediately.
‘Yeah. To the police.’
She seems to accept this without question, and I realise I was perhaps just being paranoid.
‘Wow,’ she says, gazing off into the middle distance. ‘That’s some pretty fucked up shit.’
I flick my eyebrows upwards without even realise I’m doing it. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘So what now? They go in, arrest him, find out where he says he was at the times he was following you? Fingerprint him? What?’
‘I don’t think so, no,’ I say. I’m not lying. ‘To be honest, I don’t really know what happens next. I mean, they’re not going to tell me, are they? I don’t imagine they’ll want to go in all guns blazing, though. They probably have set processes for things like this. Last thing they’ll want to do is go wading in without the evidence.’
‘Yeah, but in the meantime what’s to say he’s not going to creep into your house at night and try to... I dunno, rape you or something?’
Mandy can tell by the look on my face that she’s said something really fucking stupid.
‘Sorry. I don’t mean that he’ll—’
‘Forget it. It’s fine. And anyway, I’ve had all my locks changed.’
‘Again.’
‘To properly safe ones this time. I had the security guy round.’
Mandy says nothing, but I can tell exactly what she’s thinking. She thinks I’m not safe in my house. She thinks I should leave for a while, go and stay at hers or somewhere else. After all, a couple of sets of locks on some doors don’t seem to be stopping him. What’s to say another set will?
And it’s not the fact that Mandy is thinking these things that’s worrying me.
It’s the fact that — deep down — I think she might be right.
43
Kieran texted me to confirm that Darryl would be joining us tonight, but couldn’t get there until 8.30. I’m quite pleased, actually, as it gives me some time to get Kieran on my own and prep him on what this is all about. I don’t want the first he hears of Gavin Armitage to be when I tell Darryl.
And I don’t want it to sound like I’m using Kieran, either. I mean, I need his help. Of course I do. But that’s not the same as using him, is it? It’s relying on a friend, a friend who has access to resources that no-one else I know does.
I know it’s a long shot. I’m not expecting Darryl to say Yeah, that’s so-and-so. He’s a known stalker. I’ll get it sorted. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m expecting. But it’s all I’ve got. I need help. And now I’ve got Gavin Armitage’s picture, I can get something done.
Kieran turns up bang on time — predictably. Although I’m a few minutes early I’ve still not been served, so I get him a drink too.
We sit down at a table in the corner, near the window. It makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, but that’s exactly why I’m doing it. I need to show Gavin Armitage — if he’s watching — that I’m not afraid. He can take a photo of me in a bar if he wants. So what? I’m onto him. Bring it on.
Once we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, I start to tell Kieran the whole story from the beginning. I tell him about the patisserie, the business card, the photoshoot. Then I pause before telling him about the photos I got sent.
He’s shocked, to say the least.
‘What? You can’t be serious,’ he says, his face showing me that he knows I’m serious, and he’s seriously annoyed. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time.
‘Yeah, I am. But that’s not all. He’s been in my house. Twice, I think.’
Kieran just looks at me. ‘You need to call the police. Now.’
‘I have. I’ve been to see them. But I can’t prove anything. That’s the problem. This guy knows what he’s doing. He’s... Look, one of the times when I went to the police to give a statement, I saw him. He was standing in the office, wearing a uniform. He’s a police officer, Kieran.’
Kieran’s mouth hangs open. He looks like a dying fish. ‘But... Jesus, you can’t mean... So that’s why... Darryl,’ he says, not forming even half a sentence, but at the same time somehow managing to get everything across.
‘Yeah. That’s why Darryl.’
‘Didn’t the police believe you?’
I sigh. ‘That’s kind of a long story. Yes and no. But I know who he is. I mean, I don’t know his name, but I have a photo of him.’
‘You took a picture of him?’
‘No. Well yes. Sort of. I took a picture of his picture. Look, can I explain this later? I just wanted to fill you in before Darryl came.’ The truth is, I want a bit of time and space to think about how I’m going to approach this. Do I just come out and tell Kieran and Darryl I lied to the police and didn’t
recognise any of the photos? Or do I lie to them and say I did, but they didn’t do anything? I’m sure Darryl will be able to find out anyway. It’s probably on record or on a system somewhere.
For the next half an hour or so, we talk about anything but Gavin Armitage. It’s the elephant in the room, but I really don’t want to have to explain all this over and over again when Darryl arrives.
Shortly after 8.30, he does arrive. He and Kieran are immediately pally. Knowing Kieran, he’s probably not seen Darryl for months — if not longer. He was never particularly very good at keeping in touch with his friends when we were together. Part of me wonders if it was because we were together. Perhaps he’s one of those guys who doesn’t speak to his friends much when he has a girlfriend. Or maybe he just doesn’t speak to them all that much anyway. I don’t know. I’ve not had long enough to find out yet.
‘You remember Alice, don’t you?’ Kieran says, as Darryl sits down.
‘Yeah I do. Hi Alice. I thought you two...’
‘We did,’ I say, putting him out of his misery. ‘We’re good friends, though.’
Kieran smiles at this. I can’t tell if it’s a real smile or a forced one. If it’s a forced one, he’s a good actor.
We talk about what we’ve been up to, how work is, what our current living arrangements are. And all the time Kieran and I keep looking at each other, conscious of where this conversation has to lead. Eventually, I take the plunge.
‘I was wondering if I might be able to ask you a favour, actually, Darryl,’ I say. I go on to tell him about Gavin Armitage and the photos. Kieran listens, entranced, even though he’s heard the story already. I stop short of telling him Gavin Armitage is a police officer.
‘That’s so weird. Are you alright?’ he asks. It’s sweet that his first concern is for me.
‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘A little shaken at times, but yeah I’m alright.’