by Alison Keane
Thankfully I don’t recognise any of the bar staff. I make my way over there and upgrade Nathan to a triple vodka. I don’t have much time. I need to make this count. I get us two drinks each.
I have around four hundred and fifty pounds in my savings account plus another two hundred which is all that’s left of next month’s rent. By running away I’ll be forfeiting my deposit, but I’m going to have to forget it. I can’t risk my life for the sake of that crappy flat.
It doesn’t seem real yet. In less than twelve hours I’ll be leaving here for good.
I shiver. That’s if everything goes to plan.
By now, Nathan is struggling to lift his glass without sloshing the contents all over the place.
“We should get food,” he slurs.
“Lightweight,” I say, laughing.
That laugh is hollow. I always thought going out to pubs was fun, but tonight has been the most dreadful night of my life. It’s made me even more determined to quit drinking. I don’t even envy Nathan his vodka anymore.
Our conversation has been going around and around in circles for some time. I’ve been tempted to try and find out what his motivations are, but I’ve stopped myself. I can live without knowing the why’s if it means I can get away safely.
When the pub closes and we have to leave, I call the number of a taxi I found on a poster behind the bar. Nathan is half-leaning on me for support and I get the horrible feeling once again that he’s putting on an act to get one over on me. I don’t see how, though. I sat there and watched him drink those drinks, including the one with the sedatives.
I turn around and look up at the Builder’s Arms as we wait for the taxi. I’ve avoided even looking at this place for the past year, but it’s transformed again. Now it makes me feel sad. I’ve been so angry at Mikey all this time and he’s been lying helpless in a hospital bed.
But I can’t afford to lose myself in the past—not now.
I snake my hand around Nathan’s hips and slip my fingertips into the pocket of his jeans. I half expect him to grab me in a headlock but he doesn’t even flinch.
The taxi finally pulls up as I’m shoving Nathan’s phone and wallet into my handbag. I help Nathan into the back and give the man the address.
The short drive to my flat feels like it takes forever. I have to keep elbowing Nathan to stop him from snoring and making the driver suspicious. The last thing I need is for him to insist on Nathan getting out at my place.
I watch the dark streets, desperately hoping to see the man who said he was my real father. This time tomorrow I’ll have disappeared—I hope. I don’t just need his help, I have so many questions for him.
We pull up and I feel a shiver of fear when I open the door. I thank the driver and then make a great show of pretending to put cash in Nathan’s pocket.
The taxi driver pulls away and keeps going away from the town. The address I gave him is a short distance away from the police station in the town ten miles away. When Nathan’s not able to pay, the driver will drop him off at the police station for the night, where they’ll make him sleep it off.
I feel lighter than I’ve felt in a long time as I cross the road and walk up the path to my flat. For the first time in ages, I don’t have the feeling of being hunted.
But I’m not safe yet.
I still have work to do.
44
Ellie
The first thing I do when I get inside is take the sim card out of Nathan’s phone and break it. I’m tempted to keep the phone—it’s a better model than mine—but I resist. I pour salt into a glass and top it up with water. I drop the phone into the mixture. He knows where I live, but I can’t risk him tracking me after tomorrow morning.
I open his wallet. He had a hundred pounds in cash and various cards. I take out the cash. I should have gone to the ATM before I got back but I’ll do it in the station before I leave tomorrow. I cut up his cards and drop them in the bin. Anything to slow him down and help me get away.
Will I be able to disappear with seven hundred and fifty pounds? I’ve got to, don’t I? It’s not safe here.
I sigh as I look around the flat wondering what I’m going to be able to keep. I won’t miss this place. I won’t miss most of the things in it, either.
I’m hit by the same painful sensation as earlier—that I’ve been tricked into hating Mikey for a whole year. We had so many good times in this flat and I’ve been working my hardest to block them out all this time. How many things have I forgotten that I should have cherished?
I close my eyes. The flat is too quiet. I turn on the TV for some background noise, being careful not to raise the volume too high. The last thing I need is the police showing up. I think about going to Nathan’s to see if there’s anything there that shows me why he’s done this, but it’s too risky.
I move quickly through the flat, shoving essentials like face wipes and a change of clothes into a small backpack. The reality of this slowly sinks in: this flat is bitterly cold and damp for about ten months of the year, but it’s the only home I have. Pretty soon, I won’t even have this. Will home be a shelter? A tent? What will I do for food if I can’t get a job and my money runs out?
It’s unthinkable. I’m about to blow up my life.
But I don’t see another way. Steph is dead. Mikey is seriously hurt. The police won’t believe me. I can’t stay here.
The one thing that stands in my favour is the birth certificate I found in Dad’s house. Maybe there’s a way I can use it to create a new life for myself—one where Nathan and the police can’t track me down. I can’t go to London, but maybe I can get myself to France or Holland on the ferries. I’ll figure it out in time—for now I’ve just got to worry about getting away from here.
I finish going through my wardrobe and stare at the piles of paperwork and photos on the ground. Thank goodness I didn’t throw them away.
I hesitate.
My heart hasn’t caught up with the new information I learned today. I still feel so angry at Mikey, but I have a feeling that will dull with time. I kneel down and pull the pictures of us from the stack.
I can’t fight back the tears as I go through them to pick one to take with me. Any doubt in my mind that I was the one who hurt him melts away now: I loved him too much to ever hurt him. My only problem with him was that he was listening to the people who wanted him to distance himself from me.
My hands shake as I look at a picture of Mikey from that chairman’s dinner where all this trouble started and I feel an overwhelming sense of shame. I might not have hurt Mikey, but I’m the one who got uncontrollably drunk that night and turned the higher-ups at the club against me.
If that hadn’t happened…
I close my eyes. I need to rest before the morning, not sit here beating myself up. I shove the photo in my bag along with the pictures of my mother and go out to the living room to wait.
I sit on the couch and turn on the TV. I know I should get some sleep, but my mind is racing now. I keep thinking there has to be another way that doesn’t involve throwing myself into the gutter, but I don’t know what that is.
I pick up my phone and find Dad’s number in my contacts. That’s the one thing nagging me about all this. Even after everything that’s happened between us and everything he hid from me, I can’t bear the thought of him thinking badly of me.
I press the call button and hold my breath as I wait for the call to connect. It just rings out and goes to voicemail. I think about leaving a message but decide against it. It was crazy to even call him.
I put my phone on the coffee table and lie down. I wish I could switch off but I can’t. I can’t think straight. I don’t know what’s worse: my life as it is or my life as it will be, but I don’t know how to make my current life better. I have no idea what Nathan’s motivation is and it scares me that someone else can have so much control over my life. I’m isolated from everyone I used to know and Nathan made the point several times that he told the police we
were together on Saturday night. He thinks he owns me now. It’s a horrible feeling.
I sigh and change the channel. There’s nothing decent on this late.
My eyelids grow heavier. There’s a peace in knowing that Nathan’s not going to bother me tonight. And by the time he sobers up and gets over here, I’ll be long gone.
I jerk awake. It takes me a few moments to remember where I am. The couch in my flat. I gasp in a breath and tell myself to calm down.
I’m safe.
My plan worked.
I look around as I sit up. It’s still dark. Disappointment washes over me—I’m impatient to get going but the first trains don’t leave until six in the morning.
How long was I asleep for? It feels like I’ve only just drifted off.
I yawn and reach for my phone, groaning when it’s not right in front of me on the table. I must have thrashed around in my sleep and knocked it off.
I lean forward and feel around on the floor beside me. When I don’t find it there, I try the narrow space beneath the couch. It’s not there either.
My heart starts to race. I know I’m being silly, but I have the strongest sense that I’m not alone in the flat. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I’m just being paranoid. I reach for the lamp on the side table before I remember that the bulb blew a few weeks ago and I still haven’t gotten around to replacing it.
I stand up and move to the other side of the room where the light switch is. I’ve walked around the flat in the dark often enough to know its layout from memory, but I keep my hands out in front of me just in case—I can’t afford to trip over something and injure myself; not tonight.
I only make it a few steps when my fingers brush off something. At first I think I’ve gone the wrong way and walked into the curtains, but that thought only lasts an instant because whatever I’m touching is warm. My flat is a lot of things, but warm isn’t one of them. What’s in front of me isn’t a wall or a window.
It’s him.
No.
It can’t be.
That’s not possible.
But then I remember my doubts from earlier. Didn’t I wonder if it was all just a big double-bluff? I told myself I was being paranoid, but now it seems I wasn’t. I should have known I could never outsmart him.
I hear the slightest snort of air and my heart hammers. He’s enjoying this, I think, and that only makes it worse.
I want to scream at him. I want to lash out for all the pain and misery he’s caused me, but I hold back. I need to be smart about this. There’s only one way out of the flat and that’s through the front door.
I’ll have to get past him first.
How am I supposed to do that when I’m struggling to catch my breath?
He still hasn’t said anything—it’s completely unnerving.
I launch myself in the direction of the door, hoping there’s enough space to get around him and get away before he can stop me.
It doesn’t work like that. The floorboards creak and I collide with a wall of muscle. Fingers close around my upper arms.
He laughs cruelly as he throws me backwards. My head smacks against the edge of the table and erupts in a world of pain.
45
Ellie
I open my eyes. The pain in my head is so bad it feels like it must have been split open. No. This is all wrong.
His fingers close around my ankle. I tear it away from him and kick at him.
“No. Get your hands off me,” I snap, disheartened by the shooting pain the movement caused in my lower back.
I’m injured. How the hell can I fight him off if I can’t move without it hurting? The only hope I have is if I can talk him around. But how? He’s been one step ahead of me this whole time.
“Please, Nathan. I don’t know why you’re doing this. What have I done to you?”
“Just shut the fuck up, will you? You’re not going to wriggle out of this one.”
My blood runs cold. It’s not Nathan, but I know that voice. I’ve heard it almost every day for years.
“Jason?”
It can’t be. How could it? I barely even know the guy.
“You sound surprised.”
He grabs my ankles and tugs me towards him before I even know what he’s doing. My elbows chafe against the worn carpet. My heart pounds. I’m no match for his strength and how the hell can I try to talk him around when I have no idea what this is about?
“Why? Why would you do this?”
The light flicks on. I wince. My eyes weren’t prepared for it. They water and I blink frantically to get them back to normal as quickly as I can. I have enough handicaps right now without being able to see him.
Jason stands over me with a look on his face that I’ve never seen before.
I open my mouth and scream as loudly as I can.
Jason doesn’t even flinch. He seems more amused than anything.
I shake my head. I don’t understand. “It was you, wasn’t it? You broke in. How did you get in?”
He snorts. “You didn’t exactly make it difficult, did you Ellie?”
How can it be Jason? Is he linked to Nathan? I feel a rush of anger. How dare he come into my home and attack me? “Get the hell out of my flat.”
He laughs. “Or what?”
I swallow. My resolve vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. He’s been tormenting me for over a year and I have no idea why. That puts me on the back foot. I’ve got to calm down and figure out a plan, but I don’t know what to do. I know Jason in a work context. I know he doesn’t like lateness and he always has a bag of crisps on his desk. That’s it. I can’t understand why he’d do this.
I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with air. “Help!” I scream. “There’s a man in my house. Please help!”
“Shut up, Ellie,” he says, moving to the kitchen counter. “Actually, you can scream if you want. No-one’s going to hear you. There’s no-one in the houses either side.”
My eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”
“Because I know you,” he says simply.
He picks something up off the counter. I squint to make out what it is. It looks like a plastic freezer bag with something inside it.
He comes closer and hunkers down in front of me. My stomach lurches when I realise what he’s holding.
Inside the plastic is a kitchen knife. There are dark brown stains on it and I gag when I realise what they must be.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks, waving it in front of me.
I close my eyes. I can’t look at it.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be squeamish. Don’t you recognise it? It’s one of yours.”
I shake my head. “No.” It can’t be. It can’t.
“It’s the knife you used to kill your friend.”
“I didn’t,” I whisper.
He frowns. “It’s got your fingerprints on it.”
This can’t be happening. It can’t. I thought I was being paranoid earlier when I assumed it was Nathan who was behind this, but the reality was so much worse. It wasn’t real before. I know I saw it on the news and was questioned by the police, but seeing the knife he used to kill her…
I can’t hold it back any longer. I retch and acrid stomach water comes shooting out of my mouth—there’s no food left in my stomach it’s been so long since I ate anything.
Jason recoils. “Disgusting.”
I wipe my mouth with my sleeve, not caring what he thinks. I could never be as disgusting as him. Pain shoots through my arm as I move it. I must have cracked something as I fell to the ground at a weird angle.
Oh God, I think. How am I going to get out of this?
“Help!” I shout. My voice is hoarse now, from stomach acid and exhaustion and fear.
I’m so tired of this. The one time I thought I’d gotten back in control, I was wrong.
Jason’s eyes land on the backpack resting on one of the cheap dining chairs at the kitchen table. “What’s this?”
“You do
n’t get to ask the questions,” I snap. “We’re not in work now.”
He unzips the bag and starts to throw the contents onto the floor. He pauses when he gets to the picture of Mikey. His amusement turns to anger. “What the fuck do you want with this?”
“I know the truth,” I hiss. “I know you’re behind everything that’s happened in the last year.” A horrible realisation hits me. “And you were the one following me last year. I thought it was someone from the rugby club.”
He throws the bag on the ground and crumples the picture in his hand. “So you finally see me, Ellie.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I see you every day at work.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. I can’t look at him—the look in his eyes makes him seem like a different person to the Jason I know from the office. It’s creepy.
“You made it so easy,” he whispers. “Searching poison. Searching her name.” He smirks. “And your father’s.”
I shake my head. “No. No you can’t.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” He comes over to me again and I can’t help flinching. I gasp as the strongest feeling of deja vu I’ve ever experienced washes over me. Last week when I thought we’d met Jason out in the pub. I was wrong. That wasn’t last week.
“It was you,” I hiss. All of the hair on my body stands on end and I shiver. “You were in the Builder’s Arms that night.”
He laughs. “I should have known. Do you have any idea how shocked I was when you told me you’d seen me out? I thought you’d remembered something during the week.”
“But how? How could you… what if I’d remembered at the time?”
“I had no idea. I went to ground for a while. Then when I heard you were in hospital and the police hadn’t been sniffing around, I realised you had no memory of what happened.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You started those rumours.”
