Deliver Me

by Karen Cole

  She locks the door, slides the chain into place and heads to bed. Lying in bed, her head buried under the covers she tells herself everything is okay. Everything is okay. She repeats it over and over like a mantra until she falls asleep.

  *

  She’s jolted awake by the phone ringing. She rolls over and looks at her alarm clock. It’s five in the morning. Jesus. Not again. Anger surges through her body. She stomps down the stairs and snatches up the phone.

  ‘Why don’t you just fuck off and leave me alone?’ she snarls.

  There’s an embarrassed cough on the other end.

  ‘Uh, Abby . . . it’s Mark.’

  ‘Shit, sorry, Mark. I’ve been getting these nuisance calls.’

  ‘Yeah, Danny told me. Look, I’m sorry to ring you so early but I thought you’d want to know right away . . . It’s Danny.’

  The way he says it she immediately knows it’s bad. The blood leaves her heart. Danny. No, not Danny. Let him be okay.

  ‘He’s okay, right?’ she says. Her voice wobbles. Tears are already stinging at the back of her eyes.

  ‘Um, yes, he’s going to be alright. They’re just keeping him in for observation.’

  ‘Who’s keeping him?’ It’s as she feared: something has happened to Danny.

  Mark’s voice on the other end is calm. How can he be so calm? ‘The hospital. He’s at Cheltenham General.’

  ‘Oh my God. What happened?’ Abby pictures him being hit by a car or falling down somewhere, drunk. She should never have let him walk home alone in the state he was in.

  ‘I’m going to visit him this morning,’ says Mark. ‘Do you want to come?’

  ‘Yes, sure.’

  ‘Okay then, I’ll pick you up at eight thirty, alright?’

  Twenty-Seven

  Mark’s Honda pulls up outside the house at 8.30 precisely. He stands outside the house twirling a black umbrella and he holds it over Abby’s head as they make a dash for the car in the pummelling rain.

  ‘So, how is he?’ she asks, getting into the passenger seat and brushing the rain drops off her skirt.

  ‘Um . . . okay.’ Mark starts the engine and heads into town.

  ‘What exactly happened? ’

  Mark doesn’t answer for a moment. His face is grim as he weaves through the traffic in the town centre.

  ‘He was attacked last night on his way home.’

  ‘What?’ Abby’s stomach clenches in shock. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. ‘But he’s okay, right?’

  Mark presses on the pedal as they reach the main road out of town towards Cheltenham. He glances sideways at Abby. ‘I think so. He’s just got a few cuts and bruises and his wrist is broken. At least that’s what they told me.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’

  Abby relaxes a little. The knot of anxiety in her stomach is gradually unwinding. At least Danny is not seriously hurt, but she still can’t quite believe that it’s happened at all.

  ‘Why . . . Who . . . ? I mean, did he get into an argument? Was he mugged?’ It seems unlikely. Mugging’s the kind of crime that happens in London, not in this sleepy little town where half the population is over sixty.

  Mark stares straight ahead out of the windscreen. His eyes are glued to the road, his expression impassive as always.

  ‘I don’t know much. I guess we’ll find out when we get there.’

  They slip into silence. Abby gazes out of the window at sheep grazing in green fields. Through the trees she glimpses a silver river roping through the valley and the large, expensive private school building that perches on top of the hill. Even in the driving rain, this is idyllic countryside. It’s hard to imagine any kind of crime taking place here, let alone a violent crime. But now she’s been personally affected by two violent crimes in the space of a few months.

  She feels a lurch of guilt. Has this got something to do with her? If she hadn’t made Danny come around and got him involved in all her shit, then this wouldn’t have happened. At least she should have made sure he got home okay. He was so drunk last night. She shouldn’t have let him leave by himself. She should have insisted he call a taxi. But how was she supposed to know this would happen? She’s walked home alone from Danny’s house countless times and nothing has ever happened before.

  ‘How are you, anyway?’ Mark asks, breaking into her thoughts. ‘Is the baby kicking you yet?’

  ‘All the time.’ It kicks her constantly. It’s kicking her now, a steady insistent strike. Sometimes it feels like it’s angry with her, or that it’s trying to tell her something. Sometimes she can see the movement of her skin as it writhes beneath, like something stirring in a primordial mud pool. She runs her hands over her belly and pulls out the seat belt, so it doesn’t feel so tight.

  ‘It’s a big change in your life, I suppose. You’re not too stressed by the whole thing?’ He takes a deep breath. He seems to be deciding whether to say something. ‘Because my friend Andy Wilson called round last night . . .’

  ‘Oh.’ Abby has almost forgotten about her confrontation with Andrew, with all the other things that have been happening. She grips the seat as Mark swerves around the corner, thinking rapidly. How much does Mark know? How much should she tell him?

  ‘He said you spoke to him the other day.’

  Abby holds her breath. ‘Did he say what we talked about?’

  Mark squirms uncomfortably and clears his throat. ‘He said you accused him of rape and that the police have been to interview him.’ Mark glances at Abby. ‘He was understandably quite upset.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You really think Andy is the father of your baby?’ he says slowly. ‘You think he could have raped you at the New Year’s Eve party?’

  ‘Yes, I . . .’

  But Mark doesn’t give her a chance to answer. ‘Because I have to tell you I find that hard to believe. He’s a good guy, you know, and anyway he was with me most of the night and the rest of the time, when I wasn’t with Andy, I was with you. So, I don’t see how he could have, just purely from a logistical point of view.’

  Abby shrugs. ‘I don’t think it happened at the party. He gave me a lift home that night. I think it must have happened then.’

  Mark shakes his head. ‘But how do you know? Do you have any reason to believe it’s him, apart from the fact he gave you a lift?’

  ‘No,’ Abby admits slowly. ‘But I don’t see who else it could have been, and you’ve got to admit it’s strange. What was a middle-aged married man doing at a party like that? Why wasn’t his wife there with him, for a start?’

  Mark flushes. He looks annoyed, or about as close to annoyed as Mark ever gets.

  ‘He was there because I invited him, okay? He’s a good friend of mine. And his wife wasn’t there because she was working that night. She’s a paramedic. Jesus, Abby, you can’t just go about throwing around accusations like that. It could have serious consequences. You could seriously fuck up his life.’

  He turns a corner and they drive over the top of a hill, looking down at Cheltenham spread out in front of them. The rain has stopped, and a weak sun is shining through the clouds. The rooftops are gleaming.

  ‘If you’re looking for someone to blame, what about that ginger bloke you were arguing with?’ he says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘After the fireworks we went to my room to watch the boxset, but you were in there, shouting at a tall bloke with red hair. He looked like a slimy piece of work to me.’

  Hugo Langley, again, Abby thinks. ‘What were we arguing about?’

  He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. We left you to it and went to Danny’s room instead.’

  Could it be Hugo? Abby turns this idea over in her head as they crawl through the town centre, caught up in the rush-hour traffic. No, Hugo’s in Thailand, so he can’t have been stalking her. But perhaps she wa
s wrong about Andrew Wilson, too. After all, she has no proof. She was so sure the other day, but now, talking to Mark, her certainty is dissolving. What if he’s right and Andrew Wilson is innocent?

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you,’ says Mark as they pull into the hospital car park. ‘I know this whole thing must be very difficult for you, but Andy’s my mate, you know, and I just think you’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  ‘It’s okay, I’m not upset,’ Abby lies. ‘Let’s talk about something else.’

  On their way in, they stop at the hospital shop to buy some snacks and magazines for Danny. The volunteer on the desk informs them Danny is in Jenner Ward and they navigate their way through the labyrinth of corridors.

  He’s sitting up in bed next to the window. He has a bandage around his head and a splint on his wrist. He looks pale and thin, his dark eyes glittering. Apart from that he looks okay, and Abby feels a rush of relief and affection.

  ‘Danny,’ she exclaims, giving him a hug. ‘We’ve been so worried about you.’

  Mark stands by the window, a slight smile hovering on his lips. ‘How are you doing, mate?’

  ‘I’ve been better, to tell you the truth,’ Danny says wryly. ‘But the doctor tells me there’s no permanent damage.’

  ‘Do you remember what happened?’ Abby asks.

  ‘It’s a bit of a blur.’ Danny presses his head gingerly with his good hand. ‘It was just after I left your house. I was taking the short cut, through the park, you know.’

  Abby nods. She often goes that way herself.

  ‘I’d just crossed the bridge,’ Danny continues, ‘when I heard someone rush up behind me, and there was like this sudden pain in my head. Then nothing. Next thing I knew I was in an ambulance. Apparently, a couple found me lying unconscious in the mud.’ He laughs. ‘I mean it was worse than my sixth-form leavers’ party where I fell face first into the mud. Do you remember, Mark?’

  Mark shrugs and smiles. ‘It’s burned into my memory.’

  ‘So you didn’t see who attacked you?’ Abby persists.

  ‘Not really . . . I mean . . . no. I had the impression it was a man. He was wearing a hat I think.’

  ‘What kind of hat?’

  Danny shakes his head ruefully. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did they take anything?’ asks Mark.

  ‘That’s the weird thing. My wallet was still in my pocket when I got to the hospital.’

  ‘Well, at least you’re okay. That’s the main thing,’ says Abby.

  ‘Yes, it’s been quite exciting actually. The police have been round to take a statement. I felt like I was in an episode of Line of Duty.’ He grins.

  Abby grins back. He’s enjoying the drama, she realizes, and she’s relieved that he’s okay, but there is an idea scuttling about in her head like a bug and a knot of unease in her belly. She has a feeling that this attack wasn’t random.

  ‘Do the police have any idea who it was?’ asks Mark.

  Danny shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so. But I got into an argument with some homophobic arsehole two nights ago in the pub when I was with Will. He threatened to ‘smash my faggot face’. Charming eh?’

  ‘Did you tell the police?’

  ‘Yes. They’re looking into it.’

  ‘What about CCTV?’ says Abby. ‘They must have CCTV.’

  ‘Apparently, there’s no CCTV in that part of the park, and the cameras that cover the main gates show that no one went in, apart from me and that couple who found me.’

  ‘There are other ways into the park. Have they checked them out?’

  ‘I’m sure the police know what they’re doing, Abby,’ Mark interjects.

  ‘Hmm, I suppose so.’ Abby stares out of the window at the small park with the damp rose bushes and empty benches. The idea that has been troubling her ever since she heard Danny was attacked bubbles to the surface.

  ‘Do you think it could have been the guy on the phone?’ she says.

  ‘What guy?’ Danny is fiddling with the splint on his wrist.

  ‘Whoever called the house last night. You shouted at him, remember? Told him to fuck off. Maybe that made him angry . . . or jealous. I told you he was outside the house the night before. Perhaps he was watching the house again last night.’ She shivers at the thought. ‘Did you see anyone following you when you left?’

  Danny sighs. ‘No. I’m sure no one was following me. I would have noticed.’

  Not necessarily, given how drunk he was, Abby thinks privately, but says nothing. She can tell Danny believes the idea is nonsense and she doesn’t want to get into an argument with him right now.

  But as she’s driving home with Mark, another idea slithers into her mind. The car that hit Alex’s car just before she met him in the park. What if that hadn’t been an accident? What if someone had deliberately run into him, someone who was jealous of his relationship with her?

  If she’s right, and Danny’s assailant is her stalker, then she’s dealing with someone even more dangerous than she previously thought.

  *

  Over the next few days she keeps returning to the idea, like a dog gnawing at a bone. She runs the chain of events through her head over and over. And the more she thinks about it the more plausible it seems. It’s too much of a coincidence to believe that the two things – the phone call and the attack so soon after – aren’t connected.

  It’s nearly a week after the assault and she has finally built up the courage to phone the police to inform them of her suspicions when Danny calls her and tells her they’ve arrested the guy from the pub.

  ‘Apparently, they have him on CCTV heading towards the park at the right time,’ he says. ‘The bastard, I knew it had to be him.’

  Abby is surprised and confused. ‘Are they sure they’ve got the right man?’

  ‘Yes, it’s him alright,’ he says. ‘No doubt about it.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s good. It must be a relief,’ she says.

  But any relief Abby feels is short-lived. Even though her stalker has gone quiet for a while, she knows in her heart that he’s still out there, watching her. Waiting.

  JULY

  Your baby is now roughly 40 cm long and weighs about 1.3 kg. It can open and close its eyes and if you shine a bright torch at your belly you might feel it respond to the light by turning its head.

  Twenty-Eight

  Every day Abby goes through the motions. She works, eats and sleeps. But she’s stopped going out unless she needs to, and she’s constantly on edge. When she does go out she’s always looking over her shoulder; at home she jumps whenever the phone rings and stands in her room peering out from behind drawn curtains to see if she can catch him loitering outside. But she never sees anyone. And there are no more nuisance calls to her landline or her mobile. Weeks pass, and gradually she tries to convince herself that he’s gone away, forgotten about her.

  But he’s there in her dreams, always there, just out of sight, in the shadows, watching her, taunting her. She has a recurring dream where he steps out of the gloom for a second and she catches a brief, tantalizing glimpse of his face. But before she can make out his features, he withdraws and is swallowed in darkness again. She has another dream where he’s on top of her, pinning her down and she is powerless to move and furiously angry. In her dream, she tries to make out his face but there’s a bright light glaring in her eyes, blinding her. That’s when she wakes up to the shrill ring of her alarm and she lies there for a second, the baby kicking her frantically. Then, exhausted, she climbs out of bed and gets herself ready for another day at work.

  It’s a week before the end of term. The kids have gone home, and Abby is tidying the Art Room, doing an inventory of all the art materials, trying to decide what needs to be ordered for next year, when Jenny pops her head around the door.

  ‘Oh, Abigail, I’m glad
you’re still here. Gina wants to talk to you. She says could you come to her office and see her asap.’

  Abby sighs and looks at her watch. It’s already six o’clock. Now God knows what time she’ll be finished. ‘What about?’

  Jenny shrugs, ‘Not sure. Something about your maternity leave I think,’

  Abby crosses the quadrangle to the main school building and knocks on the door to Gina’s office. She can never quite shake the idea that she’s a schoolkid in trouble when the head summons her.

  Inside Gina Watson is sitting behind her desk, talking to a young man with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

  ‘Ah, this is Abigail now,’ she says with the false, bright smile she reserves for parents and new members of staff. ‘Abigail. This is Tom Marsden. He’s going to cover for you next term while you’re on maternity leave, and longer if you need it.’

  Tom stands up, holding out his hand and giving Abby a pitch-perfect smile.

  Abby frowns and shakes his hand. ‘But I’ll be back at work by the beginning of October,’ she says quickly.

  Gina laughs merrily and wags her finger. ‘You say that now. But you’ll probably change your mind. I’ve seen it happen countless times. Anyway, there’s really no rush, Abigail. You take all the time you need. Enjoy the time with your baby. It’s really very special.’

  ‘But I won’t need it,’ Abby insists. ‘I told you, I’m giving the baby up for adoption.’ She’s sure she’s told Gina this before, but clearly she’s forgotten, or more likely, knowing Gina, didn’t listen in the first place.

  Gina raises her eyebrows. There’s a glint in her eye. She doesn’t like being argued with. ‘Let’s wait and see, shall we, Abigail?’ she says, smiling icily. ‘Anyway, I thought you could show Tom around tomorrow. Let him observe a couple of your lessons. Get him up to speed with your plans for next year. I’m assuming you’ve written them all?’