by Gemma Rogers
Riffling through my cupboard, I pulled out black clothes easily, it had always been my colour of choice. I tied my hair into a bun and tucked it under a baseball cap. My reflection resembled that of a pre-pubescent boy. It wasn’t the look I was going for, but if it disguised who I was, I was happy. I just wanted to blend into the background, to watch and wait. He’d have to show up eventually and then I’d have him.
Walking back to where it happened in the late afternoon drizzle brought me back to reality. What was I thinking? The idea was stupid. Someone would end up getting hurt. I could get hurt again. I might not walk away this time. What was I, a vigilante? No, it was reconnaissance, there would be no interaction at all.
As I reached the entrance to the park, the one I’d used that morning, I paused to read the yellow police incident sign. There must be one at both entrances. The date and the time of the worst moment of my life recorded for everyone to see. It was surreal.
I didn’t go up to the café. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the exact spot, but I knew he must have followed me, as he came from behind. I sat on a damp bench, close to the entrance, staring into the distance. Hoping he would walk past but I knew my chances were slim.
Almost two hours and five cigarettes later, I was cold and damp from the rain, my backside numb. It was starting to get dark and I was getting jittery, wanting to make sure I was safely back home before the sun set fully. The only people to come past were: a group of three teenagers, a father and his two kids on bikes and two elderly women. What was I doing? What were the chances he’d come back here, return to the scene of the crime? I had this all wrong. I sneezed into my hands, and headed home.
17
Sunday 28 January 2018
The sun streams through the small oblong window near the ceiling, illuminating a rectangle of concrete on the floor as though it is a sign from a higher power. My back creaks as I move to sit, muscles stiff from the bench. Thankfully the headache has gone, but my entire body hurts. I feel sore everywhere after last night’s struggle. I brush my fingers over my eye, feeling the puffy lid and socket. My cheekbone, once prominent, is hidden under swollen tender flesh. I feel like I’ve been run over. I have no idea of the time, but I can hear movement beyond the cell walls. I was hoping to wake in my bed this morning, but that was too optimistic.
The viewing hatch shoots up, the slicing noise making me jump, and a pair of brown eyes encased in pale creased skin stare through.
‘Tea?’ he asks in a cheerful voice and I smile and nod gratefully.
It’s a while before he returns with a polystyrene cup, which I clasp my hands around. He’s in his late fifties and I have a flash of concern that he’s exposed to violent criminals daily down here. He doesn’t look like he’d be too handy. But then, neither do I.
‘Bacon or egg?’ He holds up a cellophane wrapped breakfast roll. I guess I’d be screwed if I was vegan.
‘Bacon please.’
‘I guessed right.’ He passes the roll to me and I tear off the wrapping and bite into it hungrily, disappointed that it’s cold. What did I expect?
‘Could you tell me the time please?’ I say, my hand covering my still full mouth.
‘It’s eight thirty, miss.’ He smiles at me and his eyes carry no judgement. ‘Did you want five minutes in the yard once you’ve had that, to get some fresh air?’
‘Please.’
The yard is tiny, but it’s in the full sun and I face the sky to bathe in it. I feel like I haven’t been outside for a week. The temperature is freezing, but I don’t care. The air is clean and fresh, and I take in as much as I can. They have until around midnight to charge or release me unless they apply for an extension. Everything rides on my interview today. The enormity of the situation threatens to spill out, but I try to keep it contained. I must not panic. I can do this.
Sunday 15 October 2017
I sat in the chair, the lamp above my head had glowing red cylinders, reminding me of the film, War of the Worlds. The warmth was pleasant though, like being on a sunbed. My scalp burned, but I’d been told to expect that. I was dying to scratch my head and gnawed at my fingernails to stave off the urge. Finally, when it was washed off and I returned to the mirror, the change was shocking.
‘It’s a dramatic transformation.’ I could tell she was nervous that I was going to cry. She had tried to talk me out of it in the beginning. I smiled to show I wasn’t upset, and she began combing the hair before cutting.
Forty minutes later, the floor was covered in a layer of bleached hair, so blonde it was almost white. I’d gone from having shoulder length mousy brown hair to an ice-blonde graduated bob that stopped at my chin, making my features look more angular.
‘I love it, it’s so striking.’ The hairdresser’s fiery red curls bouncing from all the jiggling she was doing. Perhaps she needed the toilet?
‘Thanks very much, it’s perfect,’ I said. It would take time to get used to. It would make me stand out for sure, which I wasn’t sure I wanted, but it was the new me. As different as I could look for under a hundred pounds. I wouldn’t be mistaken for Eve the victim any more.
I paid and dutifully rebooked in six weeks to have my roots done, although I wasn’t sure I’d be back. Perhaps I could do it at home and save the nightmarish interaction I just wasn’t any good at. Not to mention the price tag a cut and colour cost these days.
‘Wow.’ Was Ben’s first word when he caught sight of me, his head snapping back as we passed in the kitchen doorway.
‘Tea?’ I asked, stifling a smile. What was it with men and blondes?
‘Yes, please. I can’t believe how different you look.’ He sat at the table, still staring, open mouthed.
‘Fancied a change.’
‘Big change.’
I hadn’t seen him all week, since the night I’d cooked dinner. He’d obviously been avoiding me, and this proved a good distraction from how the evening had ended.
‘How are you?’ I asked.
‘Good. You?’
I nodded and placed the tea in front of him.
‘It’s the same colour as that bird off Game of Thrones.’ It was then I remembered he had a thing for her. As long as he didn’t think I’d done it for his benefit. My cheeks flushed. Maybe subconsciously I had?
I changed the subject and we talked about going to the cinema. There was a horror film he wanted to see on the big screen. It sounded fun. I hadn’t been to the cinema in ages.
‘You not opened this yet?’ He tapped the letter propped against the empty fruit bowl which had turned into a deposit for junk. It was my psychiatrist’s appointment and I’d forgotten to open it when it first arrived. I ripped open the envelope, the appointment was booked for a week Tuesday. I rolled my eyes. ‘Not going then?’ Ben’s tone was disapproving, and he frowned at me.
‘I’m not sure. What if they lock me up?’ I tried to joke, but Ben’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked concerned for me and I wanted to hand him my heart for safekeeping, but there was too much going on. Too many things I couldn’t tell him. How could I open up and let everything out? I was barely keeping my shit together as it was. But I knew I could trust him and right now he was the closest friend I had. I reached over and squeezed his hand.
‘What’s that for?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know, just for being you. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, I really do. It means a lot.’ It was Ben’s turn to blush.
‘Have you seen Jason?’ Ben asked, his voice strained.
‘No, not for a few days, why?’
‘He asked me if we were a thing, said he was thinking about asking you out. I just wasn’t sure you were in the right place for that.’
‘You didn’t tell him?’ I interrupted. I didn’t want Jason looking at me in the same way everyone else did that knew.
‘No, of course not, I just said you had a lot going on and you weren’t looking for anything right now.’
I moved away from the table, rinsing my empty c
up at the sink.
‘I’m not.’
I turned round to face Ben and saw him heave a silent sigh.
‘He’s not my type anyway,’ I added.
‘Just be careful. He’s a player.’
I nodded, I’d gathered that already.
‘He probably won’t even recognise me,’ I said. I couldn’t decide if I liked the blonde but different was good. Different was safe.
18
DC Becker
I sit at traffic lights, five minutes from home, the image of Eve’s battered face etched in my mind. I hate these kinds of cases, they hit a nerve. There are too many monsters out there. I wish I could catch them all, but even if I could, they’d get chewed up in the justice system. Spat out, apparently reformed after a pitiful sentence, only to offend again. We do the best we can with the resources we’ve got but it never feels like enough.
The car behind beeps its horn, signalling me to move. Lights are now green, and I pull away slowly. It’s a taxi, the driver overtaking me as soon as he’s able to. I don’t care, I shouldn’t even be behind the wheel. I’m exhausted. Only a couple more minutes and I’ll be home. Then I can slip in beside Steve and grab a few hours’ sleep. Recharge my batteries. Hicks will probably sleep in the rec room at the station, but you wouldn’t catch me on that mouldy old sofa.
At least Eve’s talking. I’m sure her solicitor will have advised her not to comment. So why is she willing to tell us what’s happened? Is it because she believes she’s done nothing wrong? Clearly, she’s going to claim self-defence and by the state of her, I don’t doubt it was.
I need to squeeze my husband tight, kiss my daughter’s head in her cot and only then will I be able to sleep. I can worry about putting the pieces together later. Then I will find out who Eve Harding is, and how she got herself caught up in such a serious crime.
19
Monday 16 October 2017
I rose early the next morning, feeling motivated. It was good to have a purpose. I had missed the routine of work. As much as I didn’t want to go back, it was a reason to get out of bed which I no longer had. I’d planned to fill my days with training and exercise, but there was only so much my body could take. I hadn’t anticipated how much rest my muscles would need in between workouts and I was getting bored of aching all the time. No amount of bathing in Epsom salts seemed to make a difference. Jason kept trying to get me to drink protein shakes, but the one he’d offered me tasted awful. Green tea and something? Perhaps I needed to try a different flavour?
Meeting Jessica at the office was interesting. She seemed nice, in her forties, dressed in floaty florals with thick black tights and a cardigan. If anything, she seemed more nervous of me than the other way around. She had already moved herself into my desk, my belongings stacked neatly in a box to one side. I could see she felt a bit awkward. She jumped up as soon as I walked in, offering me a limp handshake and saying she’d heard a lot of good things about me. Everyone in the office stared at my hair. Stuart said he liked it, but I wasn’t sure I believed him.
He was happy for me to do a few hours a day, stretched out over the week and, to be honest, I thought that might be dragging it out. I wasn’t going to complain, I was being paid for the entire four week notice period, so I was getting off lightly. There really wasn’t much to hand over, especially as Jessica had been doing pretty much the same job for a competitor. It was hardly as if she needed showing the ropes. We started looking at the photo library where all the stock images were held, and I showed her how Stuart liked them to be filed. We put in a request to IT to give her access to the shared drive, so she would be able to see past press releases and the templates for all internal and external communications. That was enough for one day.
When I got back home, Ben was still asleep and I was pleased I didn’t have to lie to him about where I was going. I gathered my things – the rape alarm which had arrived whilst I was out was the first thing to go in my bag. I couldn’t decide whether to take a book, it risked my full attention not being where it should, but it was a good cover. Who would notice a girl sat on a bench reading?
I’d had a change of heart about the stakeout. I wasn’t going to let one disappointment put me off. It was foolish of me to believe it would be so easy. That I’d spend a few hours in the same place and he’d just stroll on by. Imagine if he did? Anticipation made my skin tingle. What would I do if I actually saw him? I hadn’t thought about anything else since the idea occurred to me. Where did he live? How did he live? Did he work full-time? Could he be married with a family? The idea sickened me. I couldn’t bear to entertain the notion that he had a wife at home. One who was oblivious to his vile behaviour. Before, I hadn’t wanted to think about him at all, but now I seemed to spend every waking moment contemplating what he was doing.
I wrapped up in thick leggings, trainers instead of boots, just in case I had to run, and a heavy coat. It was sunny, but the wind had a chill. I added extra layers, knowing I would probably get cold quite quickly. I pulled my cap down low on my head as I made my way towards the park, covering as much of my hair as possible. It was so bright it might attract attention and that wasn’t the plan. How I looked was unimportant. As long as I was unrecognisable, I didn’t care. He hadn’t seen much of me. Not of my face, I was sure.
I arrived at the park, a mounting feeling of trepidation as I sat on a bench and watched the pre-school children and their parents in the playground. Squeals of delight rang out as they whizzed down the slides. It was reasonably busy, people making the most of the sunshine even though the temperature was only twelve degrees. All too soon it would be too cold for days spent in the park.
I strained my eyes to catch the faces of men in the vicinity. Only a handful came past whilst I was there. Two dog walkers, a jogger and one clutching his briefcase as he scurried along. None were him.
It was a needle in a haystack; I didn’t even know if he lived or worked in the area. For all I knew, he could have walked or driven a couple of miles before chancing on me. But the park was all I had to go on. It occurred to me the best time to come back would be on a Sunday morning. It was a weekend when he was here, not during the week. Would he come back though? It would be stupid of him, an unnecessary risk, especially with the incident boards still out. But what choice did I have? If I left it up to the police then another girl would have to go through the pain and humiliation I felt. They wanted to wait until he struck again, hoping he’d make a mistake, but I couldn’t let that happen.
I stayed a couple of hours, but my stomach was churning, and I needed food. Of all the things I’d brought in my small rucksack, snacks weren’t among them. Next time, I’d know better.
Ben was up when I returned. I nearly bumped into him as he left the bathroom, he was fresh out of the shower, wearing only his towel. My face turned scarlet, confronted with his naked torso. Water droplets cascading down his chest. He apologised, before whisking past me into his room, his ears turning pink.
‘Want to come spar with me later?’ I called after him.
‘Maybe,’ he called back as the door closed.
I made myself beans on toast and sat down to eat, waiting for Ben to come back out, but he was taking his time. I hoped he’d come to the club with me and we could have a laugh. Get back to the way things were before the kiss. I hated the atmosphere being so awkward and was desperate to clear the air.
Opening my laptop, I checked my emails and banking online, running through the list of direct debits to see where I might be able to switch providers or change to monthly payments. I spent less than an hour feeding my details into a comparison site and saved over a hundred pounds a month by changing my electricity provider as well as buildings and contents insurance. I was terrible at shopping around, too lazy to waste time searching for a better deal, but now I had no excuse. With more time on my hands and the need to dig myself out of my financial pit, it was imperative I took more interest in what I was spending. Ben’s rent had gone in, but it hadn�
��t made much of a dent. I was still in my overdraft, although away from the limit. Mum’s cheque and my quarterly council tax bill had both arrived in the post whilst I was out. I had to make sure I paid the cheque in today, then that would be one bill I’d be able to cross off my list.
Instead of waiting for Ben, I grabbed my bag and headed out of the door. It was Jane’s birthday on Friday and I hadn’t bought her anything yet. I could go to the bank and then look around the shops for something to get her whilst I was there.
When I got to the bank, the queue was long, and I was the youngest one in it. Eventually I got to the desk and paid in the cheque, the teller informing me it would take around four to five days to clear.
I found a lovely photo frame in the window of a quaint gift shop. They sold all sorts of decorative items for the home as well as gifts and trinkets. The frame was cream with two cartoon sloths hanging upside down from a line. The slogan ‘I love hanging out with you’ across the bottom. Jane loved sloths, she thought they were unbelievably cute. It was the reason her travels would extend to South America, she wanted to see one in the wild.
I picked up some posh hand cream for her too; she always complained how dry and cracked her hands were from the antibacterial gel she had to smother them in numerous times a day. I loved shopping trips where you were able to get everything you needed in one go.
It wasn’t until I began my journey home that I thought I saw him, just ahead of me, across the pedestrianised area. Something about the way he walked. I pictured the image of him on the CCTV Detective Emmerson had shown me. The similarity in size and shape was striking. My heart pounded as I followed him up the road, away from home, towards the end of the high street where the bars and restaurants were located.