by Gemma Rogers
‘Can we have a chat, it’ll only take a few minutes.’
I sighed and stepped back from the door, defeated. Emmerson stepped across the threshold. Her blonde hair bobbing as she moved. For a second, she looked like she was walking bowlegged and then her long beige mac parted, and her bump was obvious.
‘Congratulations,’ I said, gesturing towards her belly, the navy fabric of her wrap dress stretched tightly across it.
‘Thanks, I seem to have bloomed in the past few weeks. I feel like a whale.’ She rubbed her stomach. Why do women always do that, constantly rubbing their stomachs when pregnant? She followed me into the kitchen and I wanted to smoke but refrained. I didn’t offer her a drink. We weren’t friends and I wanted her gone as soon as possible. ‘I wanted to stop by on my way home. There was an attempted attack on a Saturday back in October, but the victim has only just come forward to report it. It happened closer to town, the girl was walking home the morning after staying over at her friends. Around the same time of day you were attacked.’ The image of the petite blonde crouched by the fence flashed into my mind.
‘Is she okay?’
‘She said an alarm spooked her attacker and he ran off. She didn’t get a good look at him, but he was wearing a balaclava and carrying a knife.’
Thank God, she didn’t get hurt. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there? I knew the answer to that already.
Emmerson eyed me as though trying to read my thoughts.
‘It’s going to be in the local press this week, I believe, with an e-fit. I wanted to speak to you before you saw it.’
Why wasn’t I offered an e-fit? Was I not a credible witness?
‘The victim saw he had dark hair. So even with the balaclava covering his face, we now have skin, eye and hair colour, as well as height and build. We’re officially connecting this attack with yours, and potentially others, too.’
‘It sounds like he’s not going to stop.’ I couldn’t keep the tremble from my voice.
‘I think you’re right, Eve. Not until we stop him.’ The ‘we’ made me start. She couldn’t know what I was planning, surely?
Sunday 28 January 2018
I am left alone for a few minutes, apart from my guard, while my solicitor speaks to the detectives. I nurse my tea and allow a second to wallow. What if I never get out of here? What if I’ve made a terrible mistake?
Hold your nerve, Eve, just for a bit longer.
It’s so frustrating not knowing what is going on outside this room. I have an idea of what lab results they’ve received, other than what they’ve declared. I’d tried to think of everything, but now I’ve been charged, there is no turning back. There was always a possibility I would be. A likelihood even. My solicitor wants me to ‘no comment’, but there is enough evidence to put me away, it’s intent they’ll struggle to prove. Thoughts whirl around my brain and I itch for nicotine.
‘Could you please take me out to the yard for a cigarette?’ I ask the officer.
‘I’m afraid there’s no smoking anywhere inside the station.’
My shoulders sag.
‘But I can take you out for some fresh air?’ he continues and I award him a grateful smile.
The detectives and my solicitor are nowhere to be seen. The custody officer is a jolly guy with rosy red cheeks who smiles at me as I pass. My experience of the police so far has been a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t sure it would always be though.
Cold air rushes through the door as it is unlocked, and I move out into the tiny yard. I can’t believe how much I’ve taken for granted just being able to go outside. Freedom is underrated, that’s for sure. With a view of the sky, I am calmer, the future doesn’t look so bleak when I go back into the interview room.
‘In your bag we found a rape alarm. Why did you not use this when Ian attacked you?’ Hicks asks when the interview continues.
‘My bag was on the side by the front door, I’d left it there when we came in. I couldn’t get to it.’
‘What do you think made Ian snap? Do you recall?’ Becker presses.
Why are they revisiting this again? The same thing over and over; are they trying to catch me out?
‘He was fine until I didn’t want the drink and asked to go home.’
‘Do you think his plan all along was to rape you?’
‘I don’t know.’ Isn’t it your job to connect the dots, detectives?
‘Did you plan to have sex with him?’ Hicks asks, his eyes narrowing.
‘I don’t see how that is relevant,’ my solicitor interjects, but I talk over him.
‘No, I hadn’t planned to. It was only our second date.’ I purse my lips.
‘Why did you agree to go back to his?’ Becker asks.
I glare at her, my outrage obvious, but she doesn’t flinch, our eyes lock. Hers are watering and I see something in them. Pity? Empathy?
‘Because he invited me to, for a drink. I’d been before, and he was a gentleman then. I thought I’d have a drink or two and he’d call me a cab, like last time.’
‘Did you know Ian had a history of violence?’
Yes, I did, but not a documented one.
39
Tuesday 16 January 2018
I jogged towards Ian’s place and around the outside of the park, not daring to go in. Gripping my rape alarm the entire time and staying only on main roads. I wanted to find him, but I had to stay safe, now I knew what monsters lay in wait for the unsuspecting. Hands slippery with perspiration, I threaded my keys through my fingers to use as a weapon if I needed to. I hadn’t been jogging in the dark and the rush of air past my ears as I moved made it hard to hear. I looked all around, but I couldn’t find him or any evidence of an assault. There were no sirens or flashing lights, the streets were quiet. If only Emmerson hadn’t kept me talking.
Frustrated, I returned home, checking the PetCam straight away but Ian was nowhere to be seen. Defeated, I went for a hot shower and found some whisky stashed under the sink. I don’t remember how it got there, maybe it was from the housewarming party I’d held when I moved in and started working at Drive. My lame attempt at making friends in the area. The flat had been filled with airheads from the office, ones Debbie had rounded up for me. I didn’t have anything in common with them, their fake eyelashes and ridiculous drawn-on eyebrows. It was like I’d landed on an alien planet. The party wasn’t a raging success, although Debbie stuck to me like glue from then on, whether I liked it or not.
The whisky burnt my throat on the way down and warmed me through. It tasted vile though and one was enough. Unfortunately, it didn’t help me sleep. I stared first at the ceiling, then at Ian’s empty sofa until I switched my phone off.
Wednesday 17 January 2018
Ben came home from work the next morning in a panic, just as I was on the way out of the door to go to the club, confirming tonight he was doing the dinner for Amy and could I be around? I agreed, resigned to my fate.
‘I’ll pick everything up. What are you drinking?’
I wanted to say, ‘the strongest alcohol you can find’, anything to numb the pain of the evening, but Ben was stressed enough already, and I didn’t want to add to it.
‘Anything, whatever Amy likes.’ Hideous, it was just going to be hideous. I hadn’t forgiven her for pinching him right out from under my nose. Even though at the time I didn’t know I wanted him. She knew though. I could tell the way I caught her looking at me. I knew she saw me as a threat.
On the way into work, I stopped at the shop, buying all three local papers and scouring them over lunch for the piece on the attack.
Typically, the piece I was looking for was found in the last paper. Page five featured a half-page spread with a large e-fit, dominated by the balaclava. She hadn’t got the lips right, his were thinner and his mouth smaller. The eyes were similar, but Ian’s were remarkable by their lack of depth. Their topaz blue colour, although attractive, was flat and lifeless. It didn’t look like Ian. I imagined him cutting out t
he article and adding it to a scrapbook, sneering at the police incompetence. Was he the sort to take mementos? Ian hadn’t taken anything of mine. Not yet anyway.
I hoped I would see him at the gym later, I needed to start moving things along. Although I’d promised to be home for seven so my workout would be shorter today. Perhaps I should invite him? We could double-date: ‘Hi Ben, Amy – this is Ian, my rapist boyfriend I’ve just started seeing.’ It would be amusing if it wasn’t true.
When I arrived at the gym, Ian was already there, deep in conversation with Ahmed by the weights. I smiled and waved, and he grinned back, giving me a wink. I saw a playful nudge from Ahmed and could almost hear him being pumped for information. I ignored them and got on the treadmill to run, choosing the one nearest to them so I could keep them in sight. I never ran with headphones, but the noise from the treadmill drowned out everything. The rhythmic beat was soothing. Dinner with Amy and Ben was fast approaching, and I was sulking about the whole thing. I hated doing things I didn’t want to do, but I owed it to Ben to try. Ian walking past, winking, broke my concentration. I almost tripped over my own feet. He got on beside me and seconds later we were jogging in time.
‘You’re early today,’ he shouted over the hum of the machines.
‘I have dinner plans.’ I was jogging too fast to talk but pride stopped me from slowing. If he could do it then so could I.
‘Oh?’ he said, raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips.
‘My flatmate and his new girlfriend.’ Although she wasn’t new any more.
‘Want rescuing?’
‘I wouldn’t put you through it. Actually, you never did tell me where you got my address?’ It was a safe environment to ask again. He didn’t intimidate me here.
‘I couldn’t possibly reveal my source.’
Ahmed, he must have got it from him. Ahmed had the addresses of every member of the gym. Surely it was illegal, data protection existed for a reason, but I didn’t want to consider the alternative. That he had followed me home. I considered going to the police. Detective Emmerson seemed to have a renewed vigour for the case, but I didn’t hold out much hope. Ian seemed to be able to move around as he pleased without fear of detection. Perhaps if I was in his shoes, I would be as arrogant. No, it had to be me. The police weren’t going to find him anytime soon. I had to deliver him to them.
As I was getting dressed later, still damp from my shower, a text came through on my phone from Ian.
Wait outside for me
No please or thank you, just a command. Did he have any idea how he comes across? I couldn’t refuse, just had to go with the flow. Inching ever closer to my reward.
Outside, the bitter night air stung my face, gusts of wind blowing my hair every time I changed direction. I didn’t see Ian until he was right in front of me.
‘I thought you were dancing.’ He grabbed me around the waist and pressed his body against mine, swaying to music neither of us could hear. His chest felt solid, ice cold against mine. My jaw clenched at the proximity, every fibre of my being wanted him off me.
‘Trying to get my hair out of my face,’ I said, tucking a handful of it behind my ear unsuccessfully.
Ian moved me backwards to an alcove at the side of the building, out of the wind. ‘Better?’
I nodded but was uncomfortable at being shielded from the road. The alcove was dark and tucked away, hidden in the shadows. Anything could happen, and no one would see. Just like behind the café. I blinked away the memory, legs trembling.
‘When are you free for dinner?’ he asked, still with one hand around my waist.
I bit my lip.
‘The weekend?’ My voice high pitched, giving away my nerves.
‘Okay, I’ll book a table. Saturday?’
‘Sure.’
‘You’re a mystery, Eve. I can’t wait to find out your secrets.’
I shivered and stiffened in his arms as he leaned towards me. I tried to relax as he spent the next few minutes pawing me in the dark. Pressed against him in a passionate embrace while I was trying to find my ‘happy place’. The feel of his hands over my body made me shudder and I counted in my head until it was over. Praying he wasn’t going to take it too far. I didn’t want to anger him by pushing him away A fumble in the dark, groping and stolen kisses that filled me with revulsion. I felt soiled and the urge to go back inside the gym to shower him off me was strong.
‘Get a room,’ came a deep voice from behind Ian. He pulled away and we both looked at the man walking past; clutching a can of beer and chuckling to himself. My knees buckled, grateful for the interruption.
‘What fucking business it is of yours?’ Ian spat, which made the man laugh even more.
‘Oooooooohhhhhhh,’ he replied in a high pitched mocking wail.
‘Fuck off,’ Ian said dismissively as the man staggered where he stood.
‘And if I don’t?’
Ian moved as quick as a flash, my grip on his sleeve lost. Seconds later, the man was on the ground, with Ian leaning over him. Pulling his arm back, Ian slammed his fist into the man’s face, twice. I gasped, watching blood fly from his mouth. Teeth awash with red drool. My veins filled with ice as the scene played out before me. I stood frozen, powerless to intervene, as the man’s head bounced off the concrete, eyes rolling back into his skull.
Ian stood up, smoothed his hair and stepped over the man as though he had always been there. My body shook, unwilling to respond to my brain screaming at me to run.
‘Come on, let’s get you home,’ he said, putting his arm firmly around me and leading me away.
We walked for five minutes, neither of us speaking. Was that on Ahmed’s CCTV? I knew there were cameras at the front, but what about the sides? We headed towards my flat before I mustered the courage to disentangle myself from him.
‘You don’t need to walk me, I’ll be fine from here,’ I said, my voice drifting away into the wind.
Ian looked at me, trying to read my staged smile.
‘I’m sorry I lost my temper,’ he said, not sounding in the least bit sorry.
‘He was an arsehole,’ I offered, to appease him.
Ian’s face relaxed and a smile played on his lips. I had said the right thing.
‘He was,’ he replied simply. He kissed me goodbye and turned back in the direction of his apartment.
I shuddered, chilled to my core but it had nothing to do with the winter temperature. Should I go back and see if the man was all right? How badly had Ian hurt him? I began to jog towards home, pausing as I passed a phone box. Stepping inside, I dialled for an ambulance, reporting a bleeding man outside Pulse gym and hung up, not giving my name. It was all I could do. I didn’t have time to process it. I was due back home to enter another charade.
40
Wednesday 17 January 2018
When I arrived home, I could hear them in the kitchen laughing. Ben had pulled the table out from against the wall and positioned all the matching chairs around it, so it seated four instead of two. Tonight, the table was covered in a cream cloth, with candles at the centre, and laid for three, each place setting had a folded napkin and wine glass. Ben had made an effort. A pang in my chest reminded me he had done it for her, not me.
‘Just in time,’ Ben said, pouring me a glass of wine. The bottle was two thirds gone already. I must have missed the pre-dinner drinks or was the alcohol for Dutch courage? What was I walking into?
‘Be right in.’ I dumped my gym bag in my room and quickly removed my contacts in the bathroom. One of these days I’d forget, although it didn’t matter so much if Ben saw them. I sat on the toilet, gathering myself, trying to slow the race of my pulse. Unable to comprehend what I’d just witnessed. I couldn’t focus on it now, not with them waiting. I flushed and washed my hands and arranged my mouth into a smile.
Entering the kitchen, I took the glass Ben held out to me, draining it in one go. He raised his eyebrows at me, but I ignored him. I needed the alcohol to take the e
dge off.
‘Hi Amy, how are you?’ I asked.
‘Fine, thanks. Have you just been to the gym?’ Her nose wrinkled ever so slightly, and I smoothed down my static hair.
‘Yep, working up an appetite. Smells delicious, what are we having?’ I feigned a smile at Amy, who stretched her thin lips upwards a degree in return, her glare remained stoic. Had this been her idea or his? Was there an agenda to this dinner I wasn’t aware of? I wasn’t bowled over by her warmth, that was for sure.
‘Stew, it’s been in the slow cooker all day.’ Ben grinned, looking pleased with himself.
‘We have a slow cooker?’ I asked.
‘We do now,’ Ben said, spooning stew into bowls. I caught a glimpse of Amy stiffen at the use of the term ‘we’. The smell reminded me of winters with Mum, quelling hunger pains after a day playing out in the streets.
Amy bustled around my kitchen as I looked on, slicing the French stick and placing it in the bread basket. I sat, redundant. They moved around each other with ease. It made my throat tighten, I refilled my glass and swallowed a large gulp of wine.
‘So, what have you been up to, Amy?’ I asked, trying to generate a conversation.
‘Work has been hectic, hardly any down time. All work and no play,’ she said, reaching for Ben’s hand. ‘I don’t see Ben as much as I’d like.’ She frowned at him and stuck out her bottom lip like a child. I held in a snigger.
‘It’s the shift work,’ Ben interjected, but I knew that already. I barely saw him either. It was one thing Amy and I had in common. Maybe the only thing.
Ben delivered the bowls to the table and my appetite arrived on cue as soon as it was placed in front of me. I scooped up the stew with crusty bread slathered in butter, it tasted delicious.
‘Do you work in security too?’ I asked.