own home! It was outrageous. She hated the man who had done this to her, and she hated herself for having been made a victim. She would not be a victim. Somehow she had to regain her confidence.
It was better outside. She felt safe on the bustling, noisy street and in the crowded shops and sitting over a latte at a table outside one of the little pavement cafés, watching the pigeons plodding fearlessly amongst the feet of passers by, dodging between the wheels of buggies and bicycles. The pub across the road was festooned with banners, shredded by the winter wind and still hanging there months later. Two meals for the price of one. Watch today’s match here.
Crowds of people waited in front of her to cross the road, constrained by the railing which stopped them spilling into the traffic. The lights changed, they flowed across; behind them another group built up again. Above her head, a tattered silver balloon hung like a dead bird in the branches of a tree, flapping amongst the leaves. At the end of the road the traffic whirled on an endless choreographed dance around the mini roundabout. She sipped her coffee, reluctant to move. The noise was unstoppable; deafening. Engines; music; the cooing of pigeons on the ledges of the buildings high above her head; people talking and laughing and shouting and swearing; the warning siren of a reversing lorry; mobiles ringing every few seconds, their insistent ring tones an endless selfish cacophony against escalating raucous yells.
Here, she used to feel safe; at home. Suddenly she hated it all. What she wanted was silence.
Methodically she began packing up, sorting out the paperwork, loosening her ties to school and friends. Only for the summer, she explained. Just going away to be on my own for a bit. Taking the chance to do some painting. She didn’t say where she was going. Made it sound mysterious. Fun. Lonely. It wasn’t going to be for ever. She loved the flat. She didn’t want to sell it. She just needed space. Somewhere safe. Somewhere he couldn’t find her.
When the phone rang as she came in through the front door she answered it unsuspectingly, expecting it to be the headmaster’s secretary, Jane, with yet more red tape to sort out. ‘Hello?’ She was juggling handset, handbag, shopping, unloading her stuff on the table, the front door still open behind her.
‘How are you, Jess? Recovered yet?’ The voice was muffled; deep. She didn’t recognise it.
‘Who’s that?’ Her carrier bags had fallen to the floor. Turning she walked the two strides to the door and slammed it shut, reaching for the chain to ram into its slot. ‘Will, is that you?’ He had rung two or three times and she had refused to speak to him.
There was no reply. For several seconds the line stayed open; she could sense him, whoever he was, there, listening. Then he hung up.
Her hand was slippery with sweat as she put down the receiver. She sat down at the table, her head in her hands, trying to steady her breathing. Ring the police. She should ring the police now. But how could she? She had made her decision not to tell anyone and she was going to stick with it. Abruptly she sat up and reaching for the handset again dialled 1471, her hands shaking. The caller had withheld his number.
Half an hour later the phone rang again. She stood staring down at it for several seconds before she answered.
‘Jess? I wanted to check you’d received all the bumph from the Head’s secretary.’ It was Dan. He was calling from school. When she didn’t answer immediately his voice sharpened. ‘Jess, what is it? What’s happened?’
‘I’ve been having calls, Dan. When I answer there is no one there. This time he asked how I was. Then he hung up.’
‘Did you recognise his voice?’
‘No.’
‘So it wasn’t Will?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t know. You didn’t say anything to Will about where I’m going, did you, Dan?’ Dan was the only person she had told; after all, he had known Steph as long as he had known her. They had all been at college together.
‘You made me promise not to.’
‘And I meant it.’ Jess bit her lip.
‘If it wasn’t Will,’ he said slowly, ‘it could have been Ash.’
She breathed deeply for a moment. ‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’
‘Ash is an actor. He is quite capable of disguising his voice, Jess. OK, so he shouldn’t know your phone number. Anyone could find it though. He could have looked while he was in your flat.’ There was a pause. ‘He was in your flat, wasn’t he, Jess?’ When she didn’t reply he went on. ‘Or he could have looked it up in Jane’s office here. I know the kids aren’t supposed ever to get in here, but they do.’
She nodded numbly.
‘Do you want me to come over?’
‘No. No, Dan. Don’t worry. I’m OK.’
‘Well, you know where I am if you need me. When are you going?’
‘In a day or two. As soon as I’ve sorted all the paperwork.’
‘All right, take care. I’ll ring you tomorrow, OK?’
Her case was lying open on her bed. She was folding the last of her clothes into it when the phone rang again. She paused for a moment, her heart thumping then she leaned across to her bedside table to pick it up. There was no one there.
‘Hello?’ She started to shake. ‘Who is it? You may as well tell me! Ash, is it you?’ There was no answer. ‘Hello!’ She shook the receiver. ‘Hello! Who is there?’
There was a quiet laugh the other end of the line. Male voice. Deep. Anonymous.
She dropped the receiver back on its base with a whimper of fear. The bastard was enjoying this. Well, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. She glanced at her watch. She could leave tonight. Now. There was nothing to keep her here a moment longer. She had even found a tenant for a few weeks to look after the flat. And if she left now she could catch up with Steph before she left for Rome. She would be safe in Wales. No one would find her there. She glanced at her mobile. He hadn’t rung her on that so far. Hopefully he didn’t know that number which was another reason to think it wasn’t Will. Will knew her mobile number; he knew Steph’s address – he had even been to Ty Bran. He knew everything there was to know about her. It couldn’t be Will who was tormenting her. If it was, she was lost. He would guess at once where she had gone.
Dan was the weak link in her plan. The only person who knew where she was really going. He answered at the third ring.
‘Dan, if anyone asks, tell them I’m going to Italy to spend the summer with Steph and Kim, OK?’
She smiled grimly as she heard Dan laugh. After all, it might even be true. If Kim didn’t mind maybe she would follow Steph there. And just in case, it would do no harm to throw her passport into her bag.
Closing her case she stood it by the front door. The contents of the fridge went into a cardboard box and a cool bag; the papers scattered across her desk into her briefcase with her laptop, and beside that her two beleaguered house plants with her artists’ materials and sketchbooks too long abandoned for lack of time, already in another cardboard box.
Cautiously she opened the door and peered out onto the landing. She had already dropped off
