Thanks for purchasing You Can Run. Head to www.rebeccazettl.com for a free gift when you sign up to the newsletter.
Copyright © 2016 by Rebecca Zettl
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.rebeccazettl.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Alice looked up at the red brick building looming in front of her. Stark. Ugly. Home. Alice pushed open the door the old, dingy building. A mastiff stared up at her, his broad back reaching almost to Alice’s hip. His big fluid eyes soaked in his master’s depressed mood and reluctance. He butted her hand with his head, wagging his tail when Alice rubbed his ears in response. “Come on Benji,” she said, leading him into the building. The foyer was dim, a concoction of yellowed linoleum and more of the unfinished red brick that comprised the outside of the building. The elevator stood at the rear of the room. There was a sign affixed to the elevator door and as Alice neared it she realized with a sinking feeling that it was out of order. She wheeled her suitcase over to the foot of the stairs instead. It would be a long way up to the sixth floor. At least it will keep me fit she thought to herself wheezing her way up the endless stairs, hoisting her heavy suitcase up behind her. By the time she reached the top her arms and legs trembled, and sweat crept down the small of her back. It was a relief to reach the landing on the sixth floor, dumping her suitcase heavily to catch her breath. Benji lounged lazily by her side, unperturbed by the climb. Alice pushed off the wall and started down the hallway. Benji loped easily beside her as they made their way down the wooden floorboards down to the apartment at the end. A brass number on the caramel colored wood proclaimed it as apartment 63. She threw the door open and let Benji inside. The modestly sized apartment was all that she had been able to afford. Alice walked around the place, taking it in for the first time. Her footfalls kicked up swirls of dust on the wooden floor boards. Benji found a place in the sun near the dim windows at the apartment’s one external wall and flopped down, sending more dust spiraling into the air. He lolled there happily, his big tongue dripping out of the side of his mouth as he watched Alice pace around the room. Alice took in the balcony along the side of the building; a small concrete landing, ringed with an iron balustrade. She had traded the size of the apartment for this one outdoor space. The concrete platform jutting out from the side of the building was a poor trade for the rambling garden that she had treasured in Toowoomba, but here in this concrete jungle, she had not been able to afford a house much less a garden. This would have to do. The view was of buildings. So this is Birmingham she thought, looking out over the endless brick, steel and concrete misted by a curtain of light rain starting the fall over the city. It was the first time that she had laid eyes on the city where her mother had been born. Wendy had spoken of it with enduring love and even homesickness at times. Alice wished that she could see what her mother had seen. The city felt like a prison compared to the sprawling suburbia she had left behind. She sighed heavily. She would just have to get used to it. Maybe in time she could grow to love it the way that her mother had. She turned back to the apartment and walked inside, closing the door to the chill and damp that descended with the deepening evening. She dragged the suitcase into the apartment’s only bedroom and began to unpack. By the time she was done, Benji was grumbling, a sentiment echoed by her own empty stomach. Leaving Benji resting contentedly in the fading sunlight she headed out through the door. He looked up around half an hour later as the door swung open again and Alice moved back through, clutching paper bags filled with groceries and a plastic bag filled with takeaway hanging off one elbow. The tantalizing smell filled the apartment and her situation was already starting to look brighter to Alice. This little place would feel homelier once she’d cleaned it properly and fitted it out. She fed Benji, cringing at the long strings of drool that hung down each side of his jowly face. The one downside of loving a mastiff. Alice sat down to eat, running her hand over her head to smooth back the distinctive profusion of red curls that spilled down over her shoulders. Instead her fingers met freshly cropped ends, dyed a shade of blonde that looked natural but still alien. Her red curls had made her stand out. She had hated that when she was young. Looking different. She had grown to love her own uniqueness as she had become older, and now that her curls were gone she found that she missed them more than she had thought she would. A stranger’s face stared back at her from the mirror now. A stranger’s face to match a stranger’s name. Alice Rae Harding. Rachel Jane Waters a quiet voice whispered to her. She shook her head to banish the thought. Her hand crept up beneath her shirt and her fingers felt the savage scar that roughened its way across the otherwise tender skin of her torso. She closed her eyes against the terrifying memory of that night. She withdrew her hand, stroking Benji’s head lovingly. She thought for the millionth time how lucky it was that he had been there that night. She shook her head, trying to snap back to the present and started in on the delicious smelling orange chicken and fried rice in the bowl that she was cradling in her lap. Rachel Jane Waters was gone. That life was gone. Alice Rae Harding was her life now.
***
Alice waited in the dingy foyer, leaning against the back wall, waiting to guide the delivery men. She could see them coming towards the doors and dashed forwards to hold the door open. They manhandled the two seater couch awkwardly through the narrow doorway and began maneuvering it towards the elevator. “Oh, no, I’m sorry.” Alice told them. “The elevators out of order. We’ll have to take the stairs.” She said indicating towards the entrance to the stairwell in the corner. One of the men began to laugh. “You’re having a laugh aren’t you?” he barked, looking at the narrow stairwell. “The paperwork says your place is on the sixth floor.”
Alice shrugged apologetically. “Yeah. Sorry. Apparently the elevator’s getting fixed.” She said. “But it’s not working right now.”
“Sorry lady.” He said, putting his end of the couch down and indicating to his friend to do the same. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.”
Alice boggled. “But… I told them the elevator was out of order.” She protested. “How am I supposed to get that up the stairs on my own?” She demanded. It was a good question. The two men had carried it between them, and now they expected Alice to carry it up six flights of stairs on her own. The first man shrugged. “Sorry. We’ve got other deliveries to make. We don’t have time to drag this thing up there for you. You’re on your own.” He said, unbothered. They left her standing in the run down foyer with the two seater couch that she had ordered. She stared at the couch and at the stairs. Sighing heavily, she supposed she should be grateful that it was only the couch and not the fridge or the washing machine that already sat upstairs in her apartment. She couldn’t lift the two seater on her own that much was for certain. She had no one in this town that she could ask for help. There was nothing for it. She placed two hands on the arm of the couch and pushed it towards the staircase. It was hard going and she had to put all her weight behind it just to move it across to the linoleum. She reached the bottom of the stairs. Crouching and placing both hands at the bottom of the couch she managed to hump one end of the couch onto the stairs, already panting with the effort. Doggedly she placed two hands on the
lower arm of the couch and began to shove. Gradually it began to move. Alice tried not to think too much about how difficult this would become by the sixth floor. She could already feel the weight bearing down on her arms. Too late, she began wishing that she worked out like she resolved to every new year’s day. She reached the first landing and stopped, holding the weight of the couch from sliding back down the stairs. Alice groaned inwardly. She hadn’t really thought this through. How was she going to turn it? She needed to maneuver it from the top end, but there wasn’t room to squeeze past the couch and if she left her position at the bottom, the couch would slide back. She was standing there, her already trembling arms holding the couch in place, thinking through the problem when she heard hurried footsteps coming down the stairs. Shit. One of the residents was coming down and it sounded like they were in a hurry. They wouldn’t be too happy about the blocked staircase. Sure enough a man in a suit appeared at the other end of the couch. “I’m really sorry,” Alice started before he could say anything. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute,” she insisted, though she had no idea how she would make good on that promise. He took in the situation with intelligent blue eyes, looking out from a long pale face framed with dark hair. “It looks like you’re a little bit stuck there,” the stranger told her, the tone of his voice equal parts bewilderment and consternation. Alice saw him checking the size of the gap between the couch and the stairwell wall, too narrow for a person to fit through without scrambling over the couch itself. “Here.” He said, grabbing the upper end of the couch. “Keep pushing,” he said, maneuvering the couch around the tight ninety-degree bend and the landing. It was a long, laborious process. Her heart sank every time she saw him check his watch with visible impatience. She knew she was holding him up but to Alice’s surprise and relief, he said nothing. Five floors later, Alice and the stranger pushed the couch along the hallway. “Which one is it?” he panted as they paused at the landing to the stairs. “Number 63. Right at the end.” Alice gasped, gesturing with one trembling arm towards the end of the hall.
“Oh,” he said, with some surprise. “You’re my new neighbor. I’m in 62.”
Alice smiled. “Nice to meet you,” she said.
“I’m Donny, by the way. Donny Callow.” He introduced himself as they reached the door of her flat.
“And I’m Alice,” she replied, unlocking the door to her apartment. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said. “Um, sorry about this,” she said, gesturing at the couch. “And thank you,”
He waved it off. “Come on. I can’t hang around, I’ve got to get to work.” he said, taking up his end of the couch. Together they maneuvered it through the door and shoved it up against one wall of the apartment. Donny and Alice stood either side of the couch in Alice’s still bare apartment. “I have to go,” he puffed, checking his watch again.
“Of course. Thank you so much for this,” Alice said genuinely. “If I can help you with anything…” she trailed off as he waved off the comment.
“It was nice to meet you,” he repeated, already inching towards the door. “But I’m going to be ridiculously late for work.” He grimaced.
“I’m sorry,” Alice flustered, remembering the hurried canter of his footsteps on the stairs when she had first heard him coming. “Thanks again,” she said as he hurried out the door, waving back at her. She watched him down the hall. He was tall and slim. Sharply dressed, but slightly disheveled by their work with the couch. She shoved the analysis aside in her mind and closed the door to her apartment before he saw her staring at him, her face lit with a girlish smile. She locked the heavy deadbolt that she had had installed on her first day in the apartment and shot the heavy latch across as well. A cautious retrofit of her own choosing. The balcony door and the windows were all similarly fortified. A little part of her mind told her that she was being paranoid. She ignored it. She had moved here so that she wouldn’t be found. So she could stop looking over her shoulder, but she had still felt the need for the locks here. They made her feel safe, locked up inside her very own fort Knox. She flopped down on the couch that Donny had helped her bring up. At least the neighbors seemed nice here.
***
“God damn it where is the bloody thing!” Alice hissed to herself, turning her apartment upside down searching for her mobile phone. She was forever doing this. She dialed it hastily from the land line handset that was perched on the laminate kitchen bench, and heard the super Mario theme song ring out from the bathroom. It was the one quirk she allowed herself in her otherwise professional demeanor. She ran into the bathroom and collected it from the bench where she had left her phone while doing her makeup, before dashing out of the door. She hurried down the hallway and practically ran towards the train station, hoping she hadn’t missed it. Judging by the number of commuters still standing on the platform when she arrived, she had come in time. She spotted a familiar figure standing a short distance away. Tall with dark hair and fair skin, currently looking down at something on his phone. She made her way over quietly, drawing up slightly behind his left shoulder, while reaching around to tap him on his right. Donny looked over to his right and seeing no one turned back to his left, making a face. “Here’s trouble.” He said jovially.
“Good morning to you too.” Alice quipped back. They had spent a lot of time together since he had first helped her out of the fiasco with her couch. They ate dinner together at least once a week. He was good at making her smile and laugh, something that had been a rarity when Alice had first moved here. She was surprised just how easily she had grown to trust him. Maybe it was because he was a cop, she wondered to herself. Nonetheless, there were plenty of things that she had never told him. Rachel Jane Waters. The thought swam, unwelcome, across her mind as she felt Donny’s eyes linger slightly on her lips, and her own pulse accelerate in response. The now familiar butterflies stirred, stealing her breath away. She looked away and cleared her throat, letting the moment pass between them, unacknowledged as always. The train pulled into the station, its slipstream gently rustling hair and clothes as Alice and Donny followed the other commuters in gathering expectantly near the train doors, smiling and joking once more. Alice’s day rushed past in a blur of newsprint and ringing telephones. That was one good thing about her new job, it never left her bored. Her mind was already looking ahead to the coming evening. Donny was coming over for dinner again tonight. She tidied her hair in the mirror of the newspaper office’s bathroom, just about ready to head home for the day. She was getting used to the face looking back at her and the name that now belonged to it. Alice Rae Harding shouldered the coat that she had bought last week to cope with the deepening chill that was settling over the city. According to the locals, it wasn’t even cold and she realized more than ever that she had never really known winter back at home. She wrapped the coat around herself and stepped out into the winds that hounded and bit all the way down the grey concrete path to the train station. The newspaper job was another trade she had been obliged to make. She had been a radio presenter back home and she missed it, but it had come with its own pitfalls she remembered darkly. Besides, the newspaper role was growing on her. She stood on the platform waiting for her regular afternoon train. She hardly took in the other commuters who were similarly prepared for the cold, if a little less rugged up than Alice. Suddenly a face leaped out at her from the other side of the platform, hitting her like a kick in the stomach. His dark eyes shifted around the commuters, searching for someone, or something. Alice felt the wind of a train whistling through the station. She knew that she should look away, turn her face so he couldn’t see it. But she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away from the face that still plagued her nightmares. The train pulled into the platform, blocking Alice’s view of the familiar face. She allowed herself to be carried along with the surge of commuters moving onto the train, mechanically entering the carriage and taking a seat, staring unseeingly at the back of the seat in front of her. It couldn’t be him. She closed her eyes,
trying to stave off the fear that threatened to close over her throat. She sucked in deep breaths, fighting back tears. He couldn’t be here. Please god, he couldn’t be here. Her mind flashed back to the last time that she had seen him. She stared up at him standing over her with the knife in his hand, shielding the gaping wound in her torso. There was a distant, high pitched sound that she realized was her own screaming. She remembered Benji’s deep, angry barks and the flash of his teeth as he knocked her attacker down. She couldn’t remember anything after that. Not until she woke up in the hospital. A sympathetic policeman had explained that they were looking for her attacker, but so far there was no trace. The same dread that she had felt that night shivered down her spine. Everything had moved so fast after that. She had left everything behind to come here. Everything except Benji. She had thought that he wouldn’t be able to find her here. Now, just six months on, there he was standing on a train station platform, searching commuter’s faces. Looking for her face. This couldn’t be happening. The train slid smoothly into Alice’s usual station and she made her way home, her eyes darting suspiciously everywhere. Searching faces, searching reflections in windows, searching for the one person in the world she never wanted to see again as long as she lived. Back inside her own door she locked all of the deadbolts and latches. She crouched down to Benji’s level as he bounded towards her. She ran her hands over his dark fur and for once, she didn’t protest as he licked the tears off her face with large wet swipes of his pink tongue. She scooped him into her arms and pressed her face into his fur, drinking in the smell of him, beginning to cry in earnest now. She sucked in deep shuddering sobs. It had been so hard to run, to leave everything behind. She couldn’t face moving again. I left so much behind and it didn’t even work she thought bitterly. She thought of going to the police. They had tried before, but hadn’t been able to protect her. She wondered if they would do any better this time. A knock on the door sent a visceral flinch tearing through Alice’s body, prompting a startled yelp from Benji. “Alice?” A familiar voice called from the other side of her door. Alice relaxed physically. It was only Donny. She stared through the narrow peephole to be sure. His long pale face stared at the closed door questioningly. Probably wondering what the holdup was. He raised his hand to knock again but Alice opened the door away from his hand. She saw his expression change and realized that she must look a complete mess. “Are you ok?” he asked. She swiped quickly at her cheeks, trying to remove the mess of tears and ruined makeup that mixed there. “Uh, come in.” she said, throwing the door wide. Donny obliged, closing the door behind him, still waiting for an answer to his question. “Alice?” he asked, genuine concern lighting his eyes. Alice sat heavily on the two seater that Donny had helped her bring up months ago. He followed her over and sat down more lightly beside Alice, his hands drumming on his knees. Alice’s own hands were clasped tightly together between her knees. She stared down at her hands, the knuckles white with tension. “Donny.” She began, trailing off after just one word. Hesitantly, Donny reached across and placed one long hand on Alice’s. She opened her clenched hands, wrapping them around Donny’s. “There’s something I have to tell you.” She whispered, unable to look at him. The tears she had tried to banish earlier crept back into her eyes and spilled silently down her cheeks. Benji whined and placed his large head on her knee, staring up at her with soulful eyes. She took one hand away from Donny’s and placed it on Benji’s head, stroking his soft ears. The only two people she trusted now. She took a deep breath, tightening her grip on Donny’s hand and he responded with a gentle squeeze. “Look, Alice,” Donny’s soft deep voice interjected before Alice could begin the explanation that she was dreading. “I know that you’ve got secrets, if that’s what this is about.” She met his eye for the first time since she had let him in to her apartment. That wry smile that she had come to love lifted the corner of his thin lips. “Seriously, who has that many locks on their door.” He teased, nodding towards the hardware encrusting Alice’s front door. “That plus no photos… not one. No family, not even of you back home. Unusual for an expat I would have said. Besides, you never talk about the past.”
You Can Run (Harding-Callow Short Stories Book 1) Page 1
