by Gemma Rogers
Debbie sipped her latte, a white line of foam painted across her lip. ‘How’s the job hunting going?’
‘I can’t do anything while I’m being paid my notice, but I think I might do a bit of temping come the end of November.’
Debbie nodded in agreement. Now would be a good time to slip in the lie.
‘Guess what, I’m getting a dog. A pug. My therapist thinks it would be a good idea, give me something to focus on.’
‘God, I love pugs, they are so cute with their squishy faces. You won’t regret it. A house isn’t a home until you have a dog. I wouldn’t be without my westie, Molly.’
Forty-five minutes later, after Debbie had told me everything I could ever want to know about being a dog owner, we asked for the bill. I insisted on paying and we gathered our things to walk back to the office. I felt guilty for lying, but I needed Debbie to do me a favour in a few weeks. She was going to help me out with a small part of my plan. So, for now, I was going to be getting a pug.
26
Sunday 28 January 2018
I describe our date last night in detail to Detectives Becker and Hicks. How we had a drink in Mangos before heading to the Italian restaurant. I relay how normal the meal was, how we got through the first bottle of red wine before finishing our main course. I told them I was trying to pace myself, but Ian ploughed through another bottle like it was fruit juice. It loosened him up. He told me he was an only child, that his mother had died when he was young. I almost felt sorry for him. He was good, so convincing. Acting like a normal human being.
It was almost too easy, the conversation flowed between us and there were no awkward silences. I could have forgotten why I was there, until I saw it. Something I said caused his eyes to flash, they rolled dark like thunder. A look I had seen before. Cold and devoid of emotion. It chilled me to the core. A mix of anxiety and revulsion churned my stomach as I sat across the table, watching him saw pieces of his steak. Smiling sweetly and saying all the right things, even managing to flirt when all I wanted to do was run.
‘Did Ian know you had been attacked previously?’ Hicks asks.
I snort. ‘No. It’s not really something you mention on a second date. Was I supposed to tell him I was damaged goods?’
He looks sheepish, fidgeting with his papers. Good, the prick.
‘That’s not what I meant, Eve. I was asking if he knew.’
I look away, worried I might launch myself at him.
‘What did you have to eat?’ Becker asks in redirection. Does she expect me to lie about something so trivial?
‘We both had steak.’ My voice has an edge to it, but I can’t help it. As if asking what we had for dinner brings them any closer to finding out the truth.
I’m sure they will be in contact with the restaurant, interview the waitress. She will report that there was nothing out of the ordinary about our date last night. Any CCTV in the restaurant or the town will confirm the same. They won’t know I struggled to finish my meal because I was so nervous about what was to follow. They won’t know I almost retched when Ian played footsie with me under the table whilst we waited for the bill. They don’t know I was willingly heading into the lion’s den, eyes wide open.
Tuesday 31 October 2017
I eased into a jog, pushing the treadmill to 5km an hour. It was about my pace, maybe a bit slower, but I planned to stay on there for a while. There were six treadmills, and these were always the most popular piece of equipment at any gym. Those and the weights.
There were seven people in the gym, including me. Four men and three women. One of the women was wearing a tiny crop top and shorts. She had more on her face in the way of make-up than clothes on her body. Women like her frequented every gym, they were the girls who never worked up a sweat but wanted cute pictures for their Instagram page.
For the first time ever, I’d made an effort in what I was wearing to work out. My clothes were tight, arms on show, but I was never going to bare my midriff to the world. Before I left, I put on some waterproof mascara and pink nail varnish. I was there to be noticed after all.
An hour in and it was gone six in the evening, but no sign of him yet. I’d been here at the same time yesterday, convinced as it was a Monday he’d show, but he didn’t. It had taken all my courage to venture out after dark and by the time I’d arrived I was a bag of nerves. With every step I’d envisaged footsteps behind me. I’d held my rape alarm in one hand and my keys in the other. I was disappointed that after the effort he didn’t show, so I had to try again. I needed to see him in the flesh, make sure I hadn’t imagined him.
I’d moved from the treadmill to the rowing machine. My shoulders were in great shape from the boxing and it felt good to use them. I was facing the door when he walked in, a towel slung casually over his shoulder. My hands trembled, but I gripped the pulley hard and moved faster, keeping a rhythm as I watched. He filled his bottle at the fountain and got on the treadmill, plugging in his headphones. He glanced my way and I averted my eyes, moving faster and listening to the fan on the rower roar. I felt exposed; would he figure out who I was straight away? The plan suddenly seemed foolish. But my hair was different, blonde and much shorter than it was before. Plus, I had my blue contact lenses in; the turquoise popped against my pale skin. He didn’t see much of my face that morning, but the pounding of my chest unnerved me. I had the cover of exercise to account for my panting; trying to take steady breaths to avoid the panic attack which was fast approaching.
Wanting to find an angle where I could watch him unnoticed, I went to fill my bottle, staying by the fountain to have a drink. He was in the zone, staring straight ahead, still running on the treadmill. His face was long with a prominent nose which made him look superior. He had brown cropped hair, no sign of any grey and I struggled to age him. His topaz eyes were as I remembered them, cold, with no light behind. Dead inside. A shiver descended my body, turning my legs to liquid and I held onto the fountain to steady myself. I couldn’t believe we were in the same room.
I remained frozen on the spot for a minute before moving to the cross trainer, setting a light programme for ten minutes. My muscles were becoming tired and I worried the adrenaline shooting around my system, coupled with my racing heart, might lead me to pass out. We were opposite each other, across the gym, and I saw him glance my way a couple of times. Surprisingly, I didn’t notice him eyeing up the near-naked woman who was now doing yoga poses in front of the wall of mirrors. Every other man in the gym seemed to be; even Ahmed, who waved at Ian as he walked by, couldn’t take his eyes off her rear. They were all so predictable; men were creatures of habit, they couldn’t help themselves. Except for you Ian, why? I’d seen you glance at her once or twice, sure. But your tongue wasn’t hanging out like the others. Perhaps you weren’t turned on by female flesh on show? No, that would be too normal. You were turned on by fear.
At the end of the programme, I hit the showers and decided to call it a day. Relieved that I’d found Ian. He was going to be a familiar face to me soon. Removing my contacts and placing them in the holder. I would be back again tomorrow but was now looking forward to some dinner and an early night. Fortunately, it was Halloween and droves of parents and their mini monsters were roaming the streets, knocking on doors to ‘trick or treat’. It made the area feel safer but all the same I stuck to the main roads and stayed in the glow of the street lights. I bought a Chinese takeaway from our local, two minutes from home, and knocked on Ben’s bedroom door as I went past.
‘Takeaway,’ I announced and a second later he was in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘Pork balls or chow mein?’ I asked as I opened the foil containers and spooned rice onto plates. I wasn’t sure if Ben had eaten, it was past seven, but any leftovers could be used tomorrow.
‘Balls please,’ he said, getting glasses out of the cupboard.
‘I’ve got wine as well.’ I handed Ben the bottle to open. ‘Loads of kids out tonight,’ I said, knowing we never got anyone knocking on Halloween. No one
could be bothered to climb the stairs, and as the door on the street was between two shops, most people didn’t even realise it was there.
‘What’s this in aid of?’
I brought the containers and plates to the table and we sat down to eat.
‘A peace offering,’ I said hopefully. Today had been a successful day and I was in the mood to celebrate, even if I didn’t want to tell Ben why.
‘I’m sorry about yesterday,’ Ben said.
I stopped, fork halfway to my mouth. ‘I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean what I said. Are we good?’ I wanted us to go back to the way we were, but it still seemed as though there was a crevice between us.
‘Of course. Thanks for dinner.’
‘What are landladies for, eh?’
Ben rolled his eyes at my sarcasm. ‘I didn’t describe you as my landlady.’
‘How is Amy?’ I asked.
Ben coughed, spluttering so much he needed a drink.
‘Keen,’ he replied with a grin. His eyes streamed, and I had to laugh. I bet she was. Ben was a good catch; tall, dark, quirkily handsome. He was funny and kind. What wasn’t to like?
We cleared our plates and by the time we’d finished things were almost back to the way they had been.
I tried to avoid an awkward goodnight by retiring early and not indulging in too much wine. I stopped at two glasses and made sure there was no lingering in doorways. The feelings were still there, for me at least, but to act on them would only confuse Ben and I didn’t want to lead him on. He could have a chance with a normal girl, not a crazy one. It didn’t stop me lying in the dark and thinking about the kiss we’d shared a couple of weeks ago. It couldn’t be helped; the timing wasn’t right and now I had too many secrets to hide. Ben wouldn’t approve of my plan and it was easier to keep him out of it. Safer too, If anything happened to me, I didn’t want to be responsible for dragging him into it.
27
Tuesday 7 November 2017
‘Hello, stranger,’ Jason said as I entered the boxing club around 9 a.m., his tone laced with sarcasm.
I bowed my head and raised my palms up in surrender, I knew my absence wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. I’d spent most of the week at Pulse, watching Ian, when my body would allow it. I’d started taking supplements and drinking protein shakes and I had to give it to Jason, it was working. My muscles were recovering quicker, I was starting to look toned, almost pumped. I liked this new me. I felt strong, like a warrior. I’d been trying to work out Ian’s schedule, so I could work mine around his, conscious not to go every day that he went. I didn’t want anyone to notice our training was aligned. He hadn’t spoken to me yet and things weren’t moving as fast as I’d like, but I couldn’t rush it. It needed to seem natural, not forced. Ian showed no signs of recognising me and my anxiety was easing on that front. Wearing the contacts helped; I almost felt like a different person when I put them in. Being in the same room with him still made my skin crawl though.
‘Sorry, things have been a bit hectic.’ I slung my towel over my shoulder and held my fists out for Jason to tape. There were a couple of people in the gym, including a girl who looked to be in her late teens giving the punchbag a hammering. ‘A girl? That’s great.’ I had been the only one up to now.
‘Her probation officer brought her in. We talked about doing a community programme. Getting the waifs and strays off the streets.’
‘That would be fantastic.’ We moved to the mats and Jason lifted the pads for me to strike. My shoulders felt heavy; after a week of not boxing, I was already losing my agility. Rowing just wasn’t the same workout.
‘Wanna tell me what’s going on? You in trouble?’
I squirmed. What did he know?
‘I’m not in need of your programme,’ I said, attempting a joke.
We moved in a circle, dancing around each other as I tried to target the pads. And then the idea struck, a little white lie would make this easier.
‘There’s a guy.’
Jason raised his eyebrows and chuckled. ‘There’s always a guy!’
Too out of breath to talk and punch at the same time, I sank to the mats and proceeded to tell Jason about a man I’d met in a bar. I knew he was a member of Pulse gym and in a mad moment I’d signed up. I explained that even though it wasn’t anywhere near as good as Jason’s club, and I missed boxing, I couldn’t afford both.
‘Hey, I was never going to charge you in the first place, remember? You insisted.’
‘I know, I know, but it’s not fair to come in for free. You’re a business after all, and I can’t be in two places at once.’
Jason rubbed his chin, black stubble starting to poke through.
‘You’re not working, right? Ben said you worked in an office before. How about you come and work here? I could do with some help. I’ve got no clue about accounts, marketing, promotion, that kind of stuff. There’d be a bit of the maintenance of the gym too, of course, we’d all have to pull our weight, but I want to turn this into something big. Especially if I’m going to get funding for an outreach programme.’
I grinned, watching Jason’s eyes light up. He had just made my day. ‘That sounds amazing.’
‘Okay, let me work out some numbers. It won’t be the kind of salary you had, so don’t get your hopes up.’
‘I won’t. I can’t do anything until the end of November anyway, as technically I’m still working my notice.’ The idea sounded perfect, perhaps I could even do a personal training qualification on the side? I was sure I’d have to subsidise my earnings with some waitressing or something, but getting the chance to work in a job I enjoyed, that would be brilliant.
After finishing at the gym, I picked up my prescription for more diazepam from the chemist en route to my second appointment with Doctor Almara. I’d run out a few days ago but kept forgetting to collect them. I was getting anxious about them wearing off and was pleased when I got two months’ worth this time with an appointment reminder before any more would be prescribed.
When I sat down in the orange chair, I reminded myself to play down my buoyant mood. Here, I was a victim of rape, struggling to deal with the trauma. It wasn’t a lie, but I didn’t want to seem like I was making too much progress. Who knew where my notes might end up in weeks to come?
Doctor Almara sat back in her seat, notepad in lap, her face impassive as I told her about my redundancy and how the circumstances around that had left me feeling low.
‘Maybe you should try and focus on the positives of the situation. A new start, a chance to begin again, somewhere different. You can be whoever you want to be. How are the feelings of anxiety? Are they lessening with the medication?’
‘A bit. It’s slow but I’m making progress. I managed to go outside in the dark, which is something I’ve been avoiding.’
‘And how did that make you feel?’
‘Nervous at first and then angry at why I should have to feel scared.’
‘These victories are important. Small steps lead to big changes. You should feel proud of yourself. May I ask what led to the change of appearance?’ She waved her hand towards my hair, the beginnings of a smile on her lips.
I ran my hand through the platinum strands. ‘I wanted a change.’ I wanted to look different, no longer Eve the victim.
‘Has it made you feel better?’
‘Yes.’ I wasn’t going to tell her about my plans for Ian. They would make me feel more than just ‘better’.
She asked if I had started writing a journal or drawing yet. I told her I hadn’t, but it gave me an idea and I bought a notebook on the way home.
Monday 13 November 2017
I was making slow progress with Ian at the gym. He still hadn’t spoken to me, but we had moved on to nods of acknowledgement and a smile. Mine was forced, but his was at ease as we passed on my way to the water fountain. I knew I’d get there, he chatted animatedly with some of the other regulars; I just had to bide my time.
I tried to get to the boxing club as
much as I could. Jason had made me an offer, even drawing up a contract with flexible working hours, paid holiday and mandatory pension contributions. It was a significant drop in salary, but I expected that. It was a well-known fact that the fitness industry wasn’t the best paid. I’d look around for waitressing or some other evening work if I couldn’t manage.
I exchanged texts with Debbie and we met up at Baristas for lunch again. She seemed back to her old self now most of the restructuring was complete. I was happy to hear Stuart had managed to keep his job and asked Debbie to pass on my best wishes. We both ordered jacket potatoes and I was salivating when Susie delivered them, steaming hot, to our table. I’d been eating like a horse all week.
‘How do you get to stay so tiny?’ Debbie complained as I shovelled in layers of butter and cheese. She opted for the less fattening plain jacket with beans
‘I’m in the gym almost every day now. I’ve got a job at the boxing club, starting at the end of November. I’m going to have a complete change of career, maybe do a qualification in personal training,’ I said between mouthfuls.
‘That’s certainly a change! My brother’s a personal trainer, sees loads of bored rich housewives. Says they’re lazy cows. Do you know, he’s been propositioned three times since he started?’ Debbie shook her head in disgust.
‘Oh, I forgot, check out Doug,’ I said, showing Debbie a photo of a pug puppy I’d borrowed from Google images a couple of hours before.
She shrieked, practically ripping the phone out of my hand to have a closer look. ‘He’s gorgeous! When are you picking him up?’
‘Not until Christmas, he’ll be ten weeks then.’
She handed me back the phone and scooped some beans up onto her fork before picking her own phone up and showing me around twenty photos of her westie. To be fair, it was a cute mass of curly fluff.