by Gemma Rogers
Crossing the road to the block, I swung my keys around my finger like a cowboy spinning a gun. A well dressed lady in her fifties with long, flowing dyed locks emerged from the entrance. She carried a burgundy handbag, the handle tucked into the crook of her arm. It looked expensive, a designer brand.
If only I’d moved faster, I could have slipped inside before the door shut, but that would have been too obvious. I heard the click of the lock. Damn it.
‘Excuse me, sorry to bother you,’ I said in my poshest lilt.
She turned and smiled at me, taking in my sporting attire.
‘Hello, how can I help you?’ she asked.
‘I saw a man come out of this building, heading that way. I was jogging and have been round the block since, but I’ve just come across this bunch of keys over there.’ I turned and pointed towards the main road before continuing. ‘Do you think they could be his?’
‘Oh. I’m not sure. What did he look like?’
To say a monster would have been an exaggeration, to a stranger at least.
‘About five seven, dark hair. Looked like he was going to the gym.’
‘That’ll be Ian. He’s at number six. Do you want me to take them for you?’ She reached out to take the keys, her fingertips brushing the swinging bottle opener.
I snatched my hand back. Her lips parted as though she was going to speak, but no sound came out.
‘No. Thank you, but no. Just in case they aren’t his. Perhaps I’ll head over to the gym and if I can’t find him, I’ll hand them in to the police.’
‘Yes. I think that’s best,’ she said as she backed up, away from me. Her mouth formed into a tight smile.
‘Thanks for your help.’ I waved as she retreated, desperate to get away from the mad woman on her doorstep.
I pocketed my keys and began my walk home. I had what I came for.
My attacker’s name was Ian. A perfectly normal name, too normal for the animal I knew him to be. Now his apartment number had been confirmed, I used my phone to type his full address into the search engine. No results. I did the same again, this time using his first name and full address. Still nothing. Fuck. Everyone had a digital footprint, didn’t they? He might be on Facebook, but typing in Ian followed by Sutton didn’t bring up anyone who looked like him either. At a loss, I tucked my phone into my pocket and carried on home.
Ben would be back today, and I wanted to be waiting for him when he arrived. I was a little too late though, as I opened the front door I heard voices from the kitchen. Ben’s distinctive laughter carried through to the hallway, followed by a girly giggle. My heart sank. This was a first. Don’t look, just go straight to your room and close the door. I couldn’t, it would be rude, plus I had to see who she was. I popped my head into the kitchen, plastering the broadest smile I could muster across my face.
‘Hi.’ Ben looked pleased to see me and my heart lifted a little. The girl, sat across the table in my chair, didn’t look quite so pleased. She corrected her expression into one more friendly when Ben glanced at her. ‘Eve, this is Amy. She’s been on this course with me in Manchester.’
‘Ah, the landlady. I’ve heard a lot about you,’ she said.
I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.
‘That’s me,’ I replied, resisting the urge to throw her off my chair. She was attractive, in a horsey way, but she knew it. Unfortunately for her, she had the worst case of resting bitch face I’d ever seen. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
Ben looked up at me and I returned his stare with a quick raise of the eyebrows and left the room to have a shower.
I wished I could share my news of finding Ian. I’d gone from elation to deflation in the space of an hour. Ben had never brought a girl back before, in all the time we’d lived together. I wasn’t sure I liked it although there was no rule to say he couldn’t. I wanted to share my progress. I knew Ben would think I was crazy for getting involved and not handing the information over to the police. Was I crazy? I needed evidence to get him off the streets, and I couldn’t rely on the police to find it. The idea of going undercover made me twitchy and I paced around my room in my towel. I didn’t want to dwell on the fact I would be face to face with Ian. His name bounced around my head like a pinball machine and I struggled to connect the horrific attack with such an ordinary name.
This was the only way. There was a sexual predator on the loose, in a place where I used to feel safe. I had to do something about it. I had to protect the women of this community if the police couldn’t. I wouldn’t risk handing him over to Emmerson and her finding nothing at his apartment and him being released from suspicion. I had to be sure, without a doubt, that they had enough to put him away. I would need some help, but not from Ben, he would ask too many questions. Jane would try and talk me out of it. I sent an email to Debbie, asking if she wanted to meet for lunch next week.
The giggling continued from the kitchen until I couldn’t bear to listen to it any longer. Wrenching the volume knob up on my retro stereo, I drowned them out with angry rock music. How stupid was I to think I could rely on Ben? We’d had a moment, but it was short-lived, and it was clear I’d been replaced. I could do this without him.
I ignored the tap on the door when it came sometime later, after Amy had gone home, but Ben caught me on my way out of the house.
‘Off to the gym?’ he called from his room as I passed. The door was never normally open when he was in there.
‘Yep.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Ben offered.
I turned around, sighing, and fixed him with a cold stare.
‘I’m not going to Jason’s. I’m signing up at a different gym.’
‘Oh, okay. Did something happen?’ He meant with Jason, but I didn’t answer and carried on out of the flat. Ben scampered after me. ‘She invited herself in. I didn’t ask her. She lives down the road. God, she’s been on my case all week!’ He rolled his eyes as though I was in on the joke.
‘It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,’ I called over my shoulder as I slammed the door behind me. I could imagine the scenario, Ben was too nice to refuse, but I didn’t want to get in to it. I had things to do.
25
Sunday 28 January 2018
‘He sent me a few texts the following week. You’ve got my phone, so you can look at them.’
‘Anything untoward?’ Detective Becker scowls, flicking back pages of her notebook. Her scrawl is unreadable, especially upside down. It’s of no use to me.
‘Just flirting. He had a nice time and wanted to see me again.’
‘And you felt the same way?’
I rub my forehead, eyes on the table.
‘Yes,’ my voice breaks.
Becker hands me a tissue. ‘I’m sorry, Eve, I know this is emotional, but we have to go over everything, so we can fully understand what happened.’
I nod, wishing she’d get to the point. They have my phone, so surely by now whatever is relevant has been taken off it. Do they have any idea what they’re doing? Perhaps there’s a Convictions for Dummies book at the front desk and I’m being tormented one chapter at a time.
‘Okay, so there were a few texts between you over the next week or so. The next time you saw him after that was last night?’
I nod, blowing my nose.
‘Miss Harding has nodded,’ Hicks says as he leans in towards the tape recorder. I catch a whiff of his coffee breath and wrinkle my nose. His shirt gapes, exposing doughy pale flesh dotted with dark hairs.
‘I saw him at the gym a couple of times actually.’ An image of dark red roses flashes before me.
‘Okay. We’ve requested CCTV, so we’ll be able to confirm that,’ Becker adds.
Go for it.
‘So how did last night come about?’ Hicks asks.
‘He asked me to go for dinner with him. He booked a table at La Casa, but we met for drinks first, at Mangos again.’
‘How did Ian seem?’
‘Fine, well, then anyway. Normal
. He had a lot to drink. More than me.’ I engineered it that way. Everything was on track until Ben had turned up unexpectedly. Was he here, in the police station? Providing a statement right now and blowing it wide open? I pray he’ll stay quiet.
Sunday 29 October 2017
Registering at the gym was tedious and it was another outgoing I couldn’t afford, but it was necessary. I’d have to cancel the boxing club, it would be a shame, but I couldn’t afford both. Pulse gym was almost double what I was already paying, but it was my way of getting closer to Ian. The manager, Ahmed, gave me a tour and the induction, showing me how to use all the equipment. There was no pool, no steam or sauna and no frills. A basic gym, but I had to get used to it. I was going to be working out a lot. I did suggest a punchbag or speedball as we walked around, which seemed to go down well with Ahmed, so I could live in hope.
When I left, I visited the opticians and asked which colour contact lenses would transform my eye colour the most.
‘Your eyes are so pretty; most people would kill for that shade of green. I think the blue would turn them a deep turquoise shade. It would complement your hair more than the brown ones.’ The female assistant was helpful and showed me all the options.
I bought two packs which could be worn for two weeks before being thrown away. It had turned into an expensive day. Every time I tried to save money, I ended up needing something else.
Reluctant to go home and face Ben, I decided to go for a coffee. Baristas wasn’t one of the major players, although the coffee was just as good. Susie, the owner, was a cheery, buxom woman who wore bright red lipstick. I knew from our first conversation that her husband worked away on an oil rig in the North Sea. She’d joke that it was the best place for him. I loved the quaint little shop, but the real pull for me was the small internet café at the back and the lack of cameras inside. I bought a latte and sat searching anonymously for information on crime scene forensics, blood splatter analysis and DNA. My mind raced with possibilities on what I would do if I couldn’t get any evidence against Ian. Just how far was I willing to go?
I enjoyed visualising how it might play out. Like watching a movie in my head, but I couldn’t imagine doing any of the things I was picturing. For now, I just wanted to watch. I wanted to watch him like he’d watched me that fateful morning. Deciding if I was a good choice. How did he choose? What were his influences: was it the way I walked? My size must have been a factor, easy to overpower. My hair colour even? Maybe he wouldn’t like the blonde? Time would tell.
I took comfort from knowing I could stop this at any time. I could go to the police with what information I had. I could tell them I bumped in to him walking along the street and just knew it was him. My faith in the system could be restored, but I knew I might have wasted my chance.
Back home, I crept into the flat; Ben’s door was closed. I could hear machine-gun fire, so the Xbox had been dusted off. He sounded engrossed; shouting obscenities at his player. I slipped into my room unnoticed and rang my mum.
‘Hi, Mum,’ I said, but all I could hear initially was scuffling. ‘Mum, you okay?’ I asked, louder.
‘Yes, sorry, I couldn’t get to the phone quick enough.’
‘Are you all right?’ Sensing something wasn’t right, she didn’t sound drunk, but she was getting better at fooling me.
‘I had a fall yesterday. Patrick took me down to the doctors and they’ve patched me up.’
‘How did you fall?’
‘I missed a step coming downstairs yesterday morning. I was at the bottom for three hours before Patrick knocked on the door. He had to break in.’
My heart sank, she must have been pissed or hungover from the night before. She was hardly old and frail.
‘Oh god, Mum! Listen, let’s FaceTime. I want to see you. I showed you how to do it when I gave you the phone. Remember?’ Mum had been pretty good at tech – when she was sober. I’d given her my old iPhone when I’d purchased a new one. Something else I’d bought that I couldn’t really afford at the time. It was no wonder my credit card was almost maxed out.
‘Okay, you ring me,’ she said, hanging up.
I called back and after a few seconds’ connecting I saw a view of the white Artex ceiling before Mum’s face came into view. I tried to smile, but she looked gaunt, her hair straggly and her eyes bloodshot. Being an alcoholic was taking its toll.
‘Can you see me, Mum?’ I asked, waving.
She grinned and waved back.
‘Your hair!’ She clapped a hand over her mouth.
‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s very blonde.’ No compliments then. ‘Did you get the cheque I sent?’
‘Yes, thanks Mum. I’ve paid the council tax bill.’
‘Are you all right for money?’
I nodded, it was easier to lie. I didn’t want her to worry about me.
‘And what about the other thing? Are you okay?’ I gritted my teeth. How could she refer to my rape as ‘the other thing? How could she be so fucking insensitive?
‘Show me your leg,’ I said, changing the subject. The phone shook when she picked it up and she only had the shakes when she needed a drink. Perhaps she was sober? The camera wobbled as she showed me her bandaged shin and the surrounding papery skin.
‘It’s fine, it’ll heal.’
‘Make sure you keep it elevated,’ I instructed.
Her phone beeped.
‘My battery is going,’ she said as I heard another beep, then she was gone.
Monday 30 October 2017
I woke filled with positive thoughts for the day ahead. My new gym schedule was going to start. Everyone who had a gym membership went on a Monday, didn’t they? I just had to pick the same time he went. I knew I’d bump into him eventually if I went every day, and it was safer than waiting outside his flat. I guessed it would more likely be after work rather than before. The anticipation made my stomach churn. I was impatient to find out more about him. What he did? Where he worked? It was strange to try and make the pieces fit. Like a double-sided jigsaw puzzle; one side didn’t correspond with the other.
Ben was moving around the kitchen, so I was reluctant to emerge from under the duvet. I was still pissed off about coming home to find Amy in my kitchen, which was irrational. There were no rules to say he couldn’t bring girls back, but I took an instant dislike to her.
‘Morning,’ Ben said, shovelling cornflakes into his mouth when I joined him, unable to ignore my rumbling stomach any longer.
‘Morning,’ I replied curtly. It was half past eight and in half an hour Debbie would be logging on and checking her emails. If I knew Debbie, she’d be on the phone by ten. I didn’t want to involve her, but I knew she wouldn’t ask any awkward questions.
‘You said you wanted to talk? When I got back,’ Ben said in between mouthfuls.
‘Did I? I can’t remember,’ I lied.
‘What have you been up to then whilst I’ve been away?’
‘Nothing.’ It was easier with my back to him as I busied myself making tea and toast. I needed to up my game, I was a rubbish liar.
‘Fuck sake, Eve.’ I heard the clang of his spoon against the china bowl and spun round. ‘What’s going on, one minute we’re fine, the next you don’t want to talk to me,’ he snarled.
‘That’s rich coming from you. Before your course, you hadn’t spoken to me for over a week.’
He shrugged and pushed his bowl away. I saw him squeezing his jaw tight. The tension between us was palpable.
‘I’m sorry you were attacked. Fuck, I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be raped but…’
‘But what?’ I interrupted. ‘But it doesn’t excuse me being such a bitch? Or are you just pissed at me because I wouldn’t sleep with you?’ I spat.
Ben jumped up, his chair scraping across the linoleum. He took slow, steady breaths, gripping the table.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ He wrenched his coat from the back of the chair and took off, slamming t
he front door so hard the flat shook.
I launched at the wall, pummelling my fists into the smooth white plaster. Why did I have to say that? Why did I lash out when I was hurt? He would move out, I was certain of it.
My phone rang before any real damage had been done to the wall or my hands. I knew who it would be before I looked at the screen. Taking a deep breath, I answered before it went to voicemail.
‘Hi Debbie. How are you?’ I said as cheerily as I could.
Three hours later, once I’d popped my repeat prescription for diazepam into the doctors’, we sat at a table in the window of Baristas, both nibbling on toasted paninis. I’d planned to spend some more time on the internet, so I was killing two birds with one stone.
‘How’s the reshuffle been?’ I asked, not only as an opener, I was curious. There were never any awkward silences with Debbie, she could fill hours with mindless chatter, which wasn’t a bad thing.
‘It’s been so stressful. They scored us, and we had a round of interviews. In the end, the other poor lady was made redundant, which obviously is good for me, but I’m doing the work of two people now. It’s ridiculous! Anyway, how about you? Have you recovered from the attack?’ If only it was that simple. Debbie had no idea. The only thing she’d had to recover from was a warning after she leaked sensitive information internally. She was the most tactless human resources representative I’d ever met.
‘Getting there. I’m having counselling. How is my replacement, she any good?’ I couldn’t help but ask; perhaps I needed the ego boost?
‘She’s all right, not a patch on you though. It’s taking her a while to settle in. She’s got all sorts of problems; she’s going through a divorce and her eldest child has been diagnosed as having autism.’ Same old Debbie. No one’s secrets were safe.
‘That’s a shame. It must be tough for her.’