I Will Make You Pay

by Driscoll, Teresa

  But my biggest mistake was not that I changed my name; it was thinking I could put Alex Sunningham behind me.

  CHAPTER 28

  MATTHEW

  Matthew is in charge of breakfast while Sal is in the shower.

  ‘It’s a Choco Pops day, Daddy.’ Amelie is sitting on her little booster seat, beaming at him. Butter wouldn’t melt. He tries to remind himself that she is a child and not an opponent.

  ‘No. It’s not, darling. It’s Friday. Choco Pops day is Saturday. Tomorrow. Treat day tomorrow.’ Matthew watches his daughter’s face darken and there is a creeping dread. How does Sally do this? How does she manage so many hours of this? He starts mentally whizzing through the tip sheet he read just last night on how to head off the impending meltdown. He needs more coffee but remembers that he is not supposed to say ‘no’ unless absolutely necessary. He is supposed to be smarter than that. Distract. Distract. Distract.

  ‘We’ll have Choco Pops together tomorrow, sweetie. I’m looking forward to that. How about we do some colouring today while we have breakfast. Or would you like to do a puzzle?’ Give them a choice. Let them feel they have some control over their life. ‘You can choose.’

  Amelie looks suspicious. She frowns and narrows her eyes, as if evaluating what is really going on. ‘I choose a puzzle.’

  ‘Right. Good.’ Matthew turns away quickly before she can clock his smile of surprise, and puts Weetabix and fruit into a bowl with warm milk from the microwave. He tops the breakfast off with more strawberries and grabs two wooden-block puzzles from the basket of toys in the corner of the kitchen.

  ‘Which one?’ More choice. Matthew is feeling borderline-smug.

  A few minutes later Sal appears in her dressing gown with her wet hair wrapped in a towel. She looks at the puzzle alongside Amelie’s healthy breakfast bowl and raises her eyebrows with apparent approval.

  ‘Thanks, Matt. You got to run, now?’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry.’ He takes a final slurp of coffee and moves swiftly to kiss Amelie and then his wife. ‘Be good, both of you. Daddy loves you.’ Then he bolts quickly. Such a relief to leave the house after a small triumph instead of a row over shoes or a coat or the car seat . . .

  In the driver’s seat, still parked on the drive, he checks his watch to confirm that he has just about enough time to try his little experiment for Ian Ellis before he meets Melanie Sanders for another coffee. He double-checks his backpack for his iPad. Yes. Good . . .

  He finds himself thinking once more of the day – Friday, a Weetabix day in his household. But for Alice? He wonders what it must be like, waking every day to a countdown. How many days till the next Wednesday . . .

  Forty minutes later and Ian Ellis is peeping through the curtains as Matthew pulls in. Poor guy, Matthew thinks. It’s wrong to patronise but the truth is Matthew would dearly love to find a small step in the right direction for Ian; at least to stop him calling the emergency services so often. That large, overdue payment from the corporate client has really eased the financial pressure on the agency so he can spare the time.

  He has no idea if this is going to work but he’s determined to give it a try. He’s exchanged several emails with Ian’s daughter in Canada and has a hunch.

  ‘So I’ve been in touch with Jessie by email, and I wanted to run something past you,’ he says as Ian leads him into the sitting room.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’ve just had breakfast and I don’t actually have much time this morning.’

  ‘Why have you been in touch with Jessie?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I didn’t mention the little people. I was just wondering about whether I can help to put you in touch with Jessie a bit more.’

  ‘I’ve told you. I’m not getting a mobile phone. They give you brain cancer. And the landline is too expensive. About a pound a minute, I reckon. Maybe more.’

  Matthew takes out his iPad from his rucksack, taps in his key code and sets it up in front of them on the coffee table.

  ‘It’s an iPad, Ian. Like a little telly – only skinnier. It does lots of things. Look. I found a short tourist film to show you the area your daughter lives in.’

  He turns the iPad at an angle and Ian watches the film of the Canadian landscape in utter amazement, as if magic is being performed.

  ‘It’s like Tomorrow’s World.’

  Matthew smiles at the mention of the long-forgotten programme highlighting developments in science and technology.

  ‘Is it still on? Tomorrow’s World? I don’t watch telly as much as I used to. Everyone mumbles.’ Ian is still staring wide-eyed at the iPad.

  ‘No. I think they axed Tomorrow’s World a very long time ago, Ian. But never mind that. I have a surprise for you. Now, promise not to pass out on me. Brace yourself for a nice surprise . . .’

  Matthew clicks on his Skype icon and connects to Jessie’s number. He’s already done a test run. She doesn’t have a lot of cash, apparently, but she does have a smartphone. Discounted contract. It’s five in the morning where she lives in Canada, but Jessie has been on the night shift as a porter at the local hospital and has promised to be standing by.

  There’s the sound of the call connecting and there she is. A large, smiley woman in a bright blue dressing gown. Matthew adjusts the iPad so that it is pointing directly towards Ian again.

  ‘Hi, Dad. Surprise!’

  Ian is at first speechless. For a time he just stares in shock at the screen as if witchcraft is being performed. His daughter then blows him a kiss, her eyes watery. Ian looks at Matthew, his own eyes unblinking, searching for an explanation.

  ‘It’s a video call, Ian. It’s done through a special service which is free once you have the kit. You can speak. Jessie can see and hear you too. It’s not costing me anything so go ahead. You can chat now . . .’

  ‘Jessie?’ He says this as if the image is some kind of apparition.

  ‘Yes, Dad. Isn’t this great? I can’t believe it . . .’

  ‘How about I give you two a few minutes in private and get myself a glass of water. You don’t need to touch anything, Ian. Just sit in front of the iPad and talk. Call me if the signal gets funny and the picture freezes. That happens sometimes. I can fix it.’

  ‘So – how are you, Dad?’ Jessie says. ‘I’ve just got in from a shift, so I’m sorry I look so shattered. I’ll be going back to bed later.’

  Matthew stands and moves into the kitchen as Ian begins to speak. Slowly at first and then almost gabbling. Waving too. Like someone who has just spotted a relative in the distance.

  Two hours later and Matthew is in a supermarket car park to meet Melanie – no time for their usual café. He’s still smiling inside, thinking about Ian, when Mel’s car pulls up and she heaves herself out slowly.

  ‘Why’s your client going to London? We asked her to stay close, Matt. I thought you said she was up for better cooperation.’ Mel has her hand pressed into the base of her back.

  ‘She is, Mel. She’s just going to stay with her sister for the weekend. Good security there, apparently. Even better than the Dorset pad. Look – she’s tired and she needs a break. She’s on her mobile if you need her. And she’s got a meeting for a story on Monday morning. Then she’s back.’

  ‘Well, I’m not happy about this. Alice out of the patch when we still have no idea where this Alex character is. I don’t want to be liaising with the Met on this. You know how I hate that.’ She’s watching shoppers across the car park collecting trolleys from a bay covered in Perspex like a bus shelter.

  Matthew doesn’t reply. Melanie is now leaning forward on a railing and she closes her eyes, as if enjoying the breeze on her face. He again takes in the huge bump and remembers that Sal always felt too hot towards the end of her pregnancy. He realises that Mel will get touchy if he again voices his concern but he’s worried that she’s pushing herself too hard. She’s clearly struggling.

  ‘What if he changes the pattern, Matt? What if it stops being Wednesday?’r />
  Matthew is struck by two things immediately. There’s a new urgency and a deep-rooted concern in Mel’s voice. She’s very worried about Alice and very worried about the missing girl too. A good cop and a good person. Also, he finds it uncanny that they still think so alike; it was just the same when he and Mel worked together in the force.

  He lets out a long sigh as Melanie opens her eyes and turns to read his expression.

  ‘So it’s not just me. You’re worried this stalker could change tack too, Matt.’

  CHAPTER 29

  ALICE

  Leanne’s car positively purrs. I stretch out my legs in the huge passenger footwell and think of the contrast with my own car – a noisy diesel. I should change it. Yes. Once all of this is over, I will change my car. Come to think of it, I will change a lot of things in my life.

  It’s Friday and the traffic is bad. Stop, start. Stop, start. The radio is tuned to a commercial station with a lot of quizzes and caller interaction. Leanne likes this. I don’t. I prefer music without all the incessant chit-chat and the adverts, but I don’t want conflict with Leanne.

  Every now and again I glance at my sister as she drives, and try to find the right shape for my gratitude. Are all siblings like this? I wonder. The truth is I absolutely hate that I need Leanne to rescue me yet again.

  I am remembering the journey back from Scotland after the nightmare that was Alex. The tiny plane from Inverness airport into Gatwick, then Leanne driving me back to her London home. She had been married three, maybe four years, and both children were very small. Leanne and Jonathan had a live-in nanny to step up when they travelled.

  I remember quietly disapproving of Leanne having childcare when she didn’t work. I feel guilty now for being so judgemental. What do I know about raising children? And what would I have done without Leanne’s support? Then – and now.

  ‘I do appreciate this, Leanne.’

  ‘I know. And I also know it’s practically killing you, needing my help. Needing anyone’s help.’

  I laugh and Leanne bumps the flat of her left hand into my shoulder. ‘Hey. Do you remember that time you broke your leg, Alice? How old were you?’

  ‘Twelve.’

  ‘Yeah. And you wouldn’t let anyone near to help you with your crutches. You refused to have a bed set up for you downstairs and you used to shuffle up and down the stairs on your bottom.’

  ‘Christ. I’d forgotten that.’

  ‘Me and Mum haven’t. Absolute bloody nightmare. One time you slipped and shot down the stairs so fast, we thought you’d have to have the leg reset.’

  I laugh and then wait for her to say it, and I promise myself I will not retaliate today – because she’s right.

  ‘Our Little Miss Stubborn.’

  I take out my phone to pass the time and feel the new sensation that marks every single new day as I gaze at the home screen. Friday. Five days and counting; five days until I know what he’s going to do next.

  I turn to look out of the window and feel suddenly conscious of my breathing. Also my flesh. I am going to use cheese wire on you.

  Could they be right? Could it be Alex?

  I just don’t see it myself. Too late, I realised that I never meant anything at all to Alex. I was part of his cover. His cloak of respectability. He drew me into his world for one reason only – so that he could reassure parents and schools and outsiders that he was happily engaged. A lovely man with a lovely fiancée – ipso facto, safe with teenage girls.

  I doubt he gave me a second thought after it all blew up. He was furious at the police and the families and media. In court he claimed he was in love with the girl who ran away with him and that age was just a number. He claimed he had been cruelly misjudged. How can I be condemned for falling in love?

  He never once mentioned me in court, so it just doesn’t fit for me to imagine him stalking me now. Why would he bother? Why would he care? And what would he achieve?

  ‘Do you really think it’s Alex, Leanne?’ I am surprised to hear myself say this out loud.

  She fidgets with her seat belt before answering. ‘I honestly don’t know, but I think you’re wrong to so completely discount the possibility. He’s had a long time in jail to stew. Who knows what someone like that is capable of. I just want to make sure you’re safe until they find him.’

  ‘What’s wrong with me, Leanne?’ A long sigh leaves my body. I smooth the front of my sweatshirt.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Well, for all this to happen to me. To one person. It’s ridiculous.’ I take a hairband from my pocket and pull my hair up into a ponytail.

  ‘I agree that you’ve had more than your share of bad luck. But you of all people should know from your job that life doesn’t play fair when it hands out the drama.’ She turns up the radio and I take the hint, returning to my phone.

  I’ve bookmarked several pages on stalking. There’s something still nagging at the back of my brain since talking to Jack. He’s so right. I really do badly want to write about this. It’s so frustrating having to keep it all inside.

  I flick from page to page – taking in once more all the research I did soon after that very first phone call.

  Most stalkers are not killers, apparently. But many killers are stalkers first. Most victims know the stalker. Many don’t report the stalking for fear of making the situation worse. Many victims complain that the police don’t do enough.

  I put a new search into Google and find a link to a charity reaching out to victims. It’s not popped up when I’ve searched before and so I skim through its home page. Its advice page. Its page of statistics. And then I find a page of case histories. There is the story of an actress sent foul messages when she was pregnant. The teacher hounded by a former pupil. The nurse who really was the victim of an acid attack. Page after page of horrible stories.

  There are lots of quotes from victims and I devour them, one after another. There’s this strange creeping sensation as I recognise the very precise rollercoaster of emotions they all describe. The sense of helplessness. The constant looking over your shoulder. The anger. The disappointment in yourself at being afraid . . .

  Then I click through to the website’s blog page.

  Which is when I suddenly have my idea. And I quietly send the email that I do not realise in this moment is set to make things worse for me.

  CHAPTER 30

  HIM – BEFORE

  He is staring through the classroom window to the trees beyond the playground. There is a huge bird flying in a big circle. Round and round and round.

  He wishes he knew more about birds. It looks like some kind of eagle to him, but he once pointed out an eagle to his gran and she said it wasn’t an eagle at all. It was a red kite. He thought she meant a kite with strings and when he told her this, it made his gran laugh.

  She knows loads about birds and all kinds of animals too, from growing up on a farm. She doesn’t really like towns and cities. Sometimes they take the bus out of town and go for a walk and a picnic in the school holidays. His gran always looks really happy on those days and he wishes they could run away and live on a farm together. Keep sheep and cows and goats instead of her stinky job.

  He turns back to his reading book and traces his finger across the page. He’s allowed more difficult books now because he’s doing so well. Top of Red Group.

  Miss Henderley comes over to his table and sits on the corner.

  ‘Do we have any books on birds, Miss?’ He turns back to the window and points to the huge bird which is still circling. ‘I’d like to learn the names.’

  ‘I think that’s a kestrel but I’m not sure. I’ll have a look in the library and see what I can find for you. Everything OK with you?’

  ‘Yes.’ A lie. But at least it’s Monday and so he’s not tired. He won’t fall asleep in class; not today. The problem is it’s only two more sleeps until his gran leaves him again.

  Brian says that if he tells his gran their secret – about t
he Lego and the favour – then Brian will have to tell the police about his gran leaving him on his own on Wednesday nights and she will be put in prison. Brian says that old people can’t cope in prison and she’ll probably get sick and possibly die. So he mustn’t tell anyone anything at all. Brian says the best and safest thing is for Brian to pop round and keep him company every week when his gran goes out at night. He will bring special biscuits and also chocolate from Belgium, which he says is the best kind in the world.

  Thinking about Brian makes him want to punch things and also to cry, so he pushes the backs of his hands into his eyes.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He opens his eyes to see Andrew next to him staring. Andrew repeats the question. ‘What are you doing with your hands?’

  ‘I’m trying to see how dark I can make it with my hands in my eyes.’

  ‘That’s weird. You’re weird.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ He pushes Andrew in the shoulder but Andrew starts to call to the teacher, who is back at her desk now.

  ‘He pushed me, Miss. I didn’t do anything but he pushed me.’

  ‘Hey, hey. Both of you calm down and get back to your reading.’

  Later, as he walks home from school with his gran, he asks a lot of questions about birds. He’s decided that he would like to have a bird of prey and train it to kill Brian. Yes. He will teach it to swoop down and attack him. Then no one would know who was to blame – they would think it was just a bird gone a bit mad – and his gran would not go to prison.