by that argument.
‘Only if they want to be seen,’ said Francesca. moistening her lips. ‘I don’t always see him, but I know that he’s there.’
‘I see.’ Will watched the way she pulled out another tissue and proceeded to shred it, also. ‘So—this man, whoever he is, follows you.’ He made an impatient sound. ‘You’re saying the police can’t do anything about that?’
Francesca sniffed. ‘I’m not sure they even believe me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they’ve never seen him.’ She swallowed. ‘He’s very clever, Will. Sometimes—sometimes I used to think I was going mad.’
Will breathed deeply. He wanted to dismiss what she was saying. He wanted to tell her he didn’t believe her either, and leave her to deal with her own life. But he couldn’t. Truth to tell, the strongest urge he had was to vault across the carved chest, with its tray of tea and sandwiches, and go and comfort her. To pull her into his arms and tell her not to worry; he would handle it.
Instead, he scooped up a couple of the smoked salmon sandwiches Mrs Harvey had prepared for Francesca’s supper, and ate them. He was suddenly fiendishly hungry. Probably because he’d eaten so little at Mulberry Court. He refused to countenance any other explanation for his hunger, despite the connotations. He was not eating to compensate for any other need.
‘It’s true,’ she said, evidently deciding that this tackling of the food signalled a certain scepticism on his part. ‘I always know when he’s following me. It’s a funny feeling—a kind of sixth sense a woman has. Only—’ she scrubbed at her cheeks again ‘—there’s nothing remotely funny about it.’
‘And that’s all he does? Follow you?’
‘He did.’
‘Has anyone else seen him?’
‘Only my landlady.’ She hesitated. ‘She was in the flat one evening, when I saw him standing outside the building. He was wearing one of those black hoods at the time. I couldn’t see his face.’
‘So how did you know it was him?’
‘Because I recognised the way he was dressed.’ She gazed at him frantically. ‘He always wears a hooded jacket. One of those brushed cotton jackets, I think it is. that people wear for jogging.’
‘Perhaps he is a jogger?’
The look she gave him was bleak. ‘He follows me, Will. Don’t you understand? He enjoys frightening me. I’ve taken books out of the library to try and understand what he gets out of it. It’s the element of uncertainty—of fear—that gives him the most pleasure.’
Will hesitated. ‘The night you saw him—outside your apartment, you said—didn’t you call the police then?’
‘What would have been the use? There’s no law that says a man can’t stand in the street. I’ve even started using my car for work, instead of getting the bus. But he always knows where to find me.’
Will knew an almost uncontrollable sense of fury, a raw anger that simmered in his gut. He didn’t want to be, but he could feel himself being drawn into this. He might not want her as his wife any longer, but he was damned if he was going to let her be terrified to death by some pervert.
‘Eventually—eventually, I started getting phone calls,’ she went on, her voice growing thinner. ‘You know the sort of thing—starting off with heavy breathing and progressing from there. I bought an answering machine, in the hope that that would stop him, but it didn’t. When I came home some evenings, there were maybe half a dozen of his messages waiting on the tape.’
Will swore. ‘The police must have taken notice of you then.’
‘Oh, yes. They did. They advised me to change my number.’ Her lips quivered. ‘Then it started all over again.’
Will blinked. ‘He got your new number? How? God, it must be someone you know!’
‘No.’ She trembled. ‘I think he must have got into the apartment. There’s no other way we could think of to explain how that had happened.’
Will stiffened. ‘We?’
‘Yes, we.’ Francesca tried to compose herself. ‘Tom Radley. He’s a friend. He works at Teniko, too.’
Will nodded, aware that his reaction to the fact that she had a man friend wasn’t exactly dispassionate. Yet why shouldn’t she have an admirer? he asked himself. He hadn’t exactly lived the life of a monk since she’d left.
‘We are just friends,’ Francesca asserted now, and Will wondered if his expression had given him away.
‘Hey, that’s your affair,’ he said lightly, managing to sound almost indifferent. ‘I’m glad you’ve got some support. That helps a lot.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ She gazed at him with tear-wet eyes, and he despised himself for thinking that she still looked good in spite of her distress. ‘Tom’s offered to move in, but I don’t want him to. We don’t have that kind of a relationship and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.’
Will looked down at his-spread hands, aware that this was getting harder by the minute. For God’s sake, he thought, why had she come to him? If she imagined he might offer to move in with her, she was wrong.
‘The calls,’ he said quickly, desperate to distract himself from sensual images of what it had been like when he and Francesca had lived together. ‘Couldn’t they be traced?’
‘Oh, sure.’ Francesca moved her hand. ‘They were made from call boxes all over the city. There was never any pattern to them. He’s much too clever to get caught out like that.’
‘And the voice isn’t familiar?’
She shuddered. ‘No.’
‘And when you decided he’d been in your apartment...’ He paused. ‘I assume you changed all the locks?’
‘Yes.’
There was an exhausted note to her voice now, and, looking at her, he realised how tired she must be. If she’d done a day’s work and then driven up here, she must be absolutely worn out. He should let her get some sleep before continuing this inquisition. And yet...
‘You say you didn’t want to stay in the apartment,’ he persisted. ‘Yet you obviously stayed there after you thought he’d broken in.’ He bit his lip. ‘What happened tonight that so upset you? I know I sound as if I’m playing devil’s advrocate, but I just want to know why you felt you had to get away.’
Francesca expelled a trembling breath. ‘When I got home from work tonight, I found the bathroom window had been broken.’ She fought for control. ‘That was bad enough, but then—then the phone rang, just as I was examining the damage. It was him. The stalker.’ She shuddered. ‘He said—he said he was watching me. I—I asked him if he’d broken my window and be said that I shouldn’t bother to get it mended because he’d be back.’
