by Gemma Rogers
‘How old you do think he was?’
‘I don’t know, umm, mid to late twenties. Maybe even thirty. I can’t be sure.’
‘What colour was his skin?’
‘White.’
‘Hair colour?
‘I don’t know, I didn’t see.’
‘Did you see any hair at all, on his arm or legs? Eyebrows?’
‘No. He had long sleeves, I’m not sure if it was a hoody or a sweatshirt and he wore jogging bottoms. He also had gloves and a balaclava on.’
‘What colour were they? Any distinguishing marks or logos?’
My thoughts turned to those plain trainers.
‘No, none that I could see. Everything was black.’
‘Did you see his eyes? What colour were they?’
I recoiled. His eyes would haunt me forever. Ice blue, cold and empty, devoid of any emotion.
‘They were blue.’
‘Okay, tell me what he said to you, what did he sound like? Any accents?’
I told Emmerson about the soft voice, how it was more intimidating than if he had shouted.
‘Fantastic, Eve, you’re doing great. I know you’ve told me already this morning, but can you tell me again exactly what happened yesterday from when you stepped into the park.’
After reliving it again for the second time, Detective Emmerson dropped me back at home, walking me up to my front door and seeing me safely inside.
‘Well done. I know it’s been traumatic, and you’ve been incredibly brave. If you remember anything else, please don’t hesitate to call, you have my card. I’ll be in touch in a few days.’
I shut the door and my shoulders sagged, relieved it was over. I wanted a shower but contemplated going back to bed instead.
Hearing the front door, Ben came out of his room.
‘Are you okay?’
I gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m tired.’
‘Tea?’ he asked, and I nodded.
A few minutes later we both sat at the table, tea in one hand, cigarette in the other. An awkward silence between us. I hadn’t smoked for a few years and I didn’t want to start again now, but it was a slippery slope. I enjoyed the stress relief it brought and Ben was only too happy to share.
‘Fuck!’ I hadn’t called in sick for work yet. It was half nine, they would be wondering where I was.
‘What?’ Ben said, alarmed at my sudden outburst.
‘Nothing, I’ve got to ring the office and tell them I won’t be in.’
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’
No, but I had to at some point. Perhaps if I said it fast it would be easier. Like ripping off a plaster. ‘I was raped on the way to the station yesterday morning.’
Ben’s mouth dropped open and the horrified expression on his face made my eyes fill with tears. He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of mine.
‘I’m so sorry, Eve. That’s fucking awful.’
I grimaced, yes it was.
‘Hopefully they’ll catch him quickly, they’ve got his DNA, right?’
I nodded, although I wasn’t sure, now regretting the bath in the cold light of day. Hopefully there’d be some of him left on my clothes.
5
Sunday 28 January 2018
‘But he attacked me! He tried to kill me,’ I cry out, cradling my head in my hands. Tears pool on the desk beneath me and my legs tremble beneath the table.
Terry taps my arm and I flinch away. He ignores my reaction and leans in to whisper, ‘I advised no comment’.
‘Why can’t I talk? I haven’t done anything wrong,’ I hiss back.
‘Let’s start with how you met Ian?’ Hicks leans back in his seat, waiting for me to speak.
Relax. I can do this. I don’t even have to lie, it’s more bending the truth. I sip my coffee, use the seconds to gather my thoughts and wipe my eyes on the blanket. The stage is set.
‘We met at the gym. Pulse, in town. I signed up a few months ago. It was an offer, ten months for the price of twelve.’
‘Okay, so Ian attended the same gym?’
The continuous use of his name makes me twitch. It sounds so normal, not fitting for the monster he was.
‘Yes. We went at similar times, so we’d smile and say hello. He was one of the regulars.’
‘When did you first speak to each other?’
‘I think it was about two months ago. He was waiting for a weights machine to come free and we chatted at the water fountain.’
I sniff, and Hicks pushes a tissue box towards me. I can’t work out if he is being polite or just irritated by my sniffing. I hope it’s the latter, but I take the tissue and blow my nose.
‘What did he say, do you remember?’ Becker leans forward in her seat, taking notes in a spiral-bound book. Hicks has his arms crossed, staring at me intently. I feel a flush rise in my neck.
‘Just hello, he joked about the machines always being full, I think. He seemed friendly, normal.’
‘Did you get the impression he liked you?’ Hicks asks, his forehead wrinkling.
‘I guess so. I didn’t think much of it at the time. He used to watch me run, it made me feel embarrassed.’
Becker nods. ‘Did you think he was creepy?’
‘No, not then. Not at all really, not until last night.’ I let out a sob and Hicks looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. ‘He was clawing at my clothes. Like an animal.’ I’m weeping again, and I know I’ll have a headache before long.
The detectives glance at each other but I can’t read them. Perplexed maybe? Sympathetic? I’m not sure yet.
‘I just want to go home!’ I wail.
It’s true, I’m shattered and want a long bath. I want to hibernate for at least a week, but there is no way that is going to happen yet. I have to try and get out of here today.
Monday 25 September 2017
Ben headed off to bed and I stared at my phone. I couldn’t face talking to my boss, Stuart. It was difficult enough to say and, ridiculously, I felt embarrassed having to say it to a man. I’d go direct to human resources. Debbie was the closest person to me at work. After a few rings, she answered, sounding puffed out with a cheery ‘hello’. She must have ran to grab the phone.
‘Hi Debbie, it’s Eve,’ I said, my voice already cracking. Tears erupted from nowhere and I had to stop myself hanging up. The kitchen walls seemed to shrink in around me. I’d never felt so drained.
‘Eve, are you all right?’
Debbie and I had hit it off when I joined the company. Before I gave up smoking, we would congregate at the bus stop outside the office at least four times a day. She was nice, in her mid-thirties and married with kids, but too much of a gossip to be working in HR. As friendly as we were, I knew my story would be all over the building in minutes, but I had no choice.
‘No, I’m not to be honest. I need a few days off.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘I don’t want to go into detail but…’ I struggled to say it out loud. ‘I was sexually assaulted yesterday. I’ve just got back from the police station and I don’t feel up to coming in.’ My voice wobbled as I tried to fight back the tears, sniffing loudly.
‘Of course! Oh, my goodness, you poor girl. That’s terrible. Don’t even think about coming in. Take as long as you need. I’ll have a discreet word with Stuart and you get in touch when you’re ready to come back.’ The genuine concern in her voice was comforting. Every time I said it out loud, to another person, made it more real. My limbs felt weak and all energy zapped. ‘Is there anything at all we can do?’
‘No, thank you, Debbie.’
‘Okay, well we’re here if you need us. Keep in touch.’
‘Thanks, I better go,’ I said, hanging up.
I put my head in my hands and wept.
The flat was quiet, I couldn’t even hear Ben snoring. It made me feel uneasy, the silence, even though I knew I wasn’t on my own. All the doors were locked, and no one could get in.
&
nbsp; Just as I changed into my pyjamas to get into bed, a knock came at the front door. I wrapped myself up in my dressing gown and hesitated by Ben’s door. Should I wake him up to answer it?
I tiptoed towards the door, but before I got to it, I heard Jane’s voice.
‘Eve, it’s me.’
I flung open the door and began to sob as soon as I saw her face, overwhelmed by how glad I was to see my closest friend.
Jane had on denim dungarees, a neon cropped T-shirt beneath, allowing a glimpse of her tiny midriff, and plimsolls. Her golden hair, long and loose. She practically carried me to my room and we huddled on my bed.
‘I’ve been so worried. You never called. I’ve been ringing and ringing.’
I glanced at my phone, redundant on my carpet. I’d set it to silent after I rang Debbie. Ignoring the notifications of texts and missed calls.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, Eve.’
I cried into her shoulder as she held my hand. She asked nothing of me and for that I was grateful. I fell asleep and woke up with my head in her lap as she gently stroked my hair. I sat up, wiping sleep from my eyes.
‘Have you taken the day off work?’ I asked.
‘Called in sick.’ Her eyes wide, a guilty grin.
I smiled. Jane always made me feel better.
‘I’m sorry about the London Eye.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll do it another time. You’re safe, that’s all I care about.’
I told Jane some of what happened, snippets I could bear to talk about, as she looked on, disgusted at what I was telling her. Pausing to shake her head and pat my hand.
‘Let me make you some tea,’ I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Jane had been here hours and had had nothing to eat or drink.
‘I’ll make it!’ Jane overtook me on the way to the kitchen.
She stayed until late, cooking dinner with what she found at the back of the freezer.
‘You need to go shopping, or rather Ben does.’ She laughed at her plate of chips, peas and fish fingers. I pushed mine around my plate as she tucked in. We talked about anything other than my attack, and she tried to keep me distracted, but I was relieved when she left to go home. I loved her, and was grateful for her visit, but I was desperate to be alone.
The next few days blurred into one. I spent my time sleeping, smoking, staring at the television and occasionally leaving my room to eat. Ben knocked on the door a few times to make sure I was still alive, offering me tea, cigarettes and on one occasion another joint, all of which were gratefully received.
We’d been flatmates for around two years. When I first had the flat, I coped on my own for a while, working full-time and supplementing my salary with bar work at the weekends. Then I had to renew my mortgage, the excellent rate I’d secured at first had gone up and so did my monthly repayments. I got a lodger, a girl called Vicky, but it was a mistake from the outset. I worked in the bar with her and everyone always came back to ours after closing time. It became a place for partying and there was always someone lying comatose on the living-room floor. One Sunday morning I woke up to find one of the customers she’d brought back fast asleep at the end of my bed and the rest of the flat wrecked.
When I advertised again, I knew what to avoid. Ben was polite and came across as chilled and easy-going. I didn’t foresee him being any problem and thought I’d give living with a man a go this time. It was the best decision I ever made. He paid his rent on time and there were no parties; in fact, if he wasn’t working or eating, he spent most of his time out or occasionally playing his Xbox. The bonus was that he worked nights, normally from around six in the evening until six in the morning. He once told me he was the regional manager for a group of large warehouses in the south-east that contained all sorts of items, from sports cars to designer stock for clothing stores. Items of value that had to be guarded twenty-four hours a day and he managed the night team on the ground and any movements of stock. I was impressed. It made my job seem boring. Although Debbie and I made sure we’d have a laugh most days, even when we were busy.
The day after I made the call to Debbie, I received a bunch of flowers from everyone at work. The delivery man knocked repeatedly, but I couldn’t open the door. I felt paralysed by fear. Instead I hid, hunched in the corner of my room, terrified it was my attacker coming for more. A complete over reaction, I know. The courier left the flowers outside and Ben noticed them when he left for work in the afternoon. The card read ‘thinking of you’. I was touched, but the thought of going into the office made me nauseous. I bet they were talking about me as well as thinking of me. I was doing everything I could not to think at all.
Jane kept in contact every day, checking in to see how I was doing. She sent me a beautiful gift of calming essential oils in pulse point roller balls and comfy pyjamas, knowing I hadn’t got dressed in days. I answered the weekly call from my mother and told her I hadn’t been well, I’d been laid up in bed with the flu. She sounded remarkably sober and gave me the recipe for her mum’s chicken soup, which apparently was the best cure for flu. Her mood dipped as she told me she’d finally emptied Dad’s wardrobe after all this time. I had no energy to talk her out of her melancholy. I felt selfish, as I would usually always try and lift her mood, but I was unable to see past my own darkness.
In four days, I hadn’t left the flat. Ben was doing cigarette and shopping runs although I lived mostly on pasta, tea and toast. I had no desire to do anything.
6
Friday 29 September 2017
On Friday morning, Ben knocked on my bedroom door when he arrived home from work. It was an almighty effort to get out of bed to unlock it, but he was one of the few people I was not averse to seeing. He stood in the doorway, dressed in a shirt and tie, his top button undone. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes. His head almost touched the top of the door frame, but his body didn’t fill the width of the space. Hair dark and unruly that he kept short probably for that reason. He yawned before he spoke. It must have been a long shift.
‘Hey,’ he said.
‘Hey.’
‘How are you doing?’ He edged forward, over the threshold, and lowered himself down onto the end of the bed.
I shrugged, what could I say?
‘Jesus Christ, it stinks in here,’ he chided playfully, surveying the mess of my bedroom. He got up and threw open my curtains, bright sunlight blasting through the glass making me squint. He opened the window wide, letting fresh crisp air in before turning to face me, hands resting on his hips. ‘Eve, we need to talk. I know what happened was dreadful, but this has to stop. You’re letting him win if you carry on hiding in here.’
‘Did you bring me cigarettes?’ I asked flatly, holding out my hand, ready to receive.
Ben’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw repeatedly. ‘Fuck sake. No, I didn’t.’ He turned around, his frustration evident, and stomped into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
I tucked my knees up to my chest and cried. He was right, of course he was right. What the fuck was I doing? I hadn’t washed or changed my clothes since Monday. The bedroom stank of sweat and smoke; the ashtray overflowing and mouldy cups littering the carpet. My reflection was grey and sallow. I resembled a junkie; thin, with sunken eyes and greasy hair.
I crept back out to Ben’s door and tapped gently. A second later it opened, and he frowned at my puffy eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stepping forward to give me a hug.
I scooted backwards, and he looked away. Mirroring my step with his own.
‘I stink, you’re right, I need a shower,’ I said quickly. Relieved to see him laugh and the awkwardness dispelled. I didn’t want to tell him I couldn’t bear his touch. His kindness overwhelmed me, and I didn’t know what I would have done without him. But he was still a man and I didn’t want to be touched by one. ‘I’m scared, Ben,’ I whispered.
‘I know.’ He sighed, and I could see him teetering on the balls of his feet.
Was he going to reach out for me again? Thankfully he decided against it and remained in the doorway. ‘Go get dressed, have something to eat and once I’ve had a few hours’ kip we are going out for a walk.’ It sounded ambitious, but I would give it a go.
Three hours later, I’d showered, washed my hair and eaten a lunch of beans on toast. I’d filled my time waiting for Ben by tidying my room, which was now aired and smelling fresher. I examined my face in the mirror, as I pulled my mousy hair back into a ponytail. The graze on my cheek was almost gone, a yellowish bruise remained. I’d healed down below too, the pain I’d initially felt when going to the toilet had gone and the tenderness passed. Physical scars were always quicker to heal.
We stepped out of the door to our building onto the noisy street. Immediately my senses were overloaded. The sound of cars and chattering people was like a hammer to my skull. It made my head throb. Someone brushed past me and I fell against Ben, my whole body shaking. Sucking in fresh air like a marooned fish. It was too much.
A hand touched my shoulder and the world spun.
‘It’s okay, just breathe. Deep breaths, in and out. That’s it.’
We stood for a minute, sheltered in the doorway, until the light-headedness passed and I was able to continue. It was slow progress, we walked towards the park initially, but then cut off towards the high street and found a bench in the square. School children zoomed past on bikes and scooters in their uniforms, pursued by parents struggling to keep up.
‘You all right?’ Ben asked, breaking the silence.
Warmth hit my cheeks and I stared at my trainers.
‘I think so. There’s so many people here.’ My voice was shaky. I was looking at all the faces in the crowd. Could he be there? Amongst them? Looking right at me? Would I recognise him at all?
‘The weather brings them out. You, on the other hand, look like a vampire.’ It was true, I did, with my pasty complexion, although Ben didn’t have much more colour.