As I reread the texts, I try to picture Tom; to feel the right feelings. But for some reason I find myself thinking of Jack instead. I picture Jack’s face, not Tom’s. Jack’s expression in that Italian restaurant when I behaved so badly.
Why do I do this? What’s the matter with me?
And then – after ten, maybe fifteen minutes – I begin to fidget. Damn. I need the loo. I really shouldn’t have drunk that large coffee while waiting for the train. This is how ridiculous my life has become. Nervous about going to the loo on a train. What kind of new madness is this?
I glance yet again around the carriage. Baldy now has his eyes closed. Everyone else seems busy with their laptop or their phone or a book. Outside it’s dark, and so all the faces and laptops and phones are reflected in the windows. I lift my handbag over my left shoulder and slip from my seat, deliberately leaning the other way as I pass the bald guy’s seat, and walk through to the front of the carriage and into the connecting space.
The automatic doors close behind me. I feel the temperature change; someone must have left the window open to the exit door. I move forward, but before I can decide whether to shut the window, I hear the automatic door fire again behind me. I turn to find that the bald man is there, just a few feet from me. He grins, again widening his eyes.
Blind panic now. My heart is racing and I feel sort of clammy as I turn to stride away from him. What now? What now? What options?
I think of hurrying into the toilet and locking myself inside, but – no. Damn. I see the flash of red confirming it’s engaged. I keep walking – faster, faster – into the next carriage. Yes. Better to walk than be stuck in the quiet of the dividing space between carriages with him.
It’s probably not him. The man on the phone. The man with the flowers and the bottle of iced water. Highly unlikely. Just a creep, Alice. You can handle a creep . . .
I keep going through the family carriage. To my left there are two children sitting opposite their mother, playing on their iPads. I push onward, onward, past a woman with grey hair who looks asleep. Two elderly men chatting over a newspaper.
And I turn to find that the bald guy is still behind me. Matching my haste. Following me through the carriage.
Following me?
And now, for the first time, I start to entertain blacker thoughts – that maybe, just maybe, it could be him. Blatant. Taunting me? It makes no logical sense – with all these people? Why would he be so stupid? Run the risk of getting caught?
At last I pass the next luggage area. Another interconnecting space and finally into the toilet. I feel a huff of air leave my body as the door closes and the lock clicks into place, but I’m now genuinely desperate for the loo, so I quickly relieve myself and wash my hands before taking out my phone. My hands are still wet. Trembling too. I find it difficult to stand steady as the train takes a corner.
‘Matthew?’
‘Yes, Alice. What is it?’
‘I’m on the train back from London and there’s a creep following me. I’m in the toilet and he’s right outside. I know it sounds ridiculous but I’m afraid to go out, Matt.’ I’m horrified to find that I’m actually crying now. ‘I’m sorry.’ I move the phone to my chest as I try to compose myself and then put it back up to my ear. ‘But I’m really afraid.’
‘OK. So I’m here and I’m listening, Alice. You’re not alone with this. So what’s made you afraid? Are you saying you think it’s the stalker? What has this man done? What makes you feel afraid of him?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know. I mean, he could just be a creep. He’s a bit pervy. Staring at his crotch – you know. Just creepy. But now he’s followed me through two carriages and I mean – what if it is him, Matthew?’
‘Right.’ There’s a sharp intake of breath before Matthew continues. ‘Give me the exact details, Alice. Carriage and train and a description of the man and I’ll get on to this. Where are you roughly? I need to work out how strong the mobile signal will be. That’s the only way I can get a message to the train staff via transport police.’
‘You can do that?’
‘Yes. There’s a text number for transport police. It’s normally pretty slow but I’ve got a contact. And I can hopefully fast-track it via Mel. I mean DI Sanders. But where are you? Is the signal strong?’
‘Not that long out of Paddington. Three strong bars at the moment.’
‘Good, that’s good. Signal is pretty strong to Reading. OK. Which train and which carriage?’
‘I’m now in the toilet between coach C and coach D. The 7.03 p.m. from Paddington.’
‘Right. Stay in the toilet, Alice. Ignore anyone who knocks until it’s staff. OK? I’ll have to ring off to make some calls but I’ll ring you back very soon. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. I suppose.’ I pause. ‘But what if someone needs this cubicle?’ I can’t quite believe this is happening. ‘What if I’m just being ridiculous, Matthew . . .’
I think of the bald guy gesturing to his crotch. Leering as he followed me.
‘People can use a different toilet, Alice. Creep or stalker, the police need to speak to this guy. And they will. We’ve got your back. Now, I’m going to ring off to get things in motion. But you stay put. Yes?’
‘Yes. OK.’ I put my hand out to touch the wall to steady myself. I give Matthew a full description of the man and it feels a tiny bit better sharing this. ‘Thank you, Matthew.’
‘No need. I’ll ring you back very soon.’
Again I try to steady my breathing as I wait.
Someone knocks on the door. I ignore it. I wonder if it’s the creep. The stalker?
‘I’m unwell,’ I call out. ‘Sorry. Can you try a different toilet?’
There is more knocking. Then there is a man’s voice, low and menacing. ‘So what are you doing in there really?’ A pause. ‘Are you doing something nice for me in there? Did I make you wet? Is that why you won’t come out?’
I shift my body to lean properly against the wall, clutching the phone to my chest. I’m ever more conscious of my heart pounding, pounding, pounding. I can feel it against the hand pressing the phone into my chest. I can feel it in my ear too. Also, I feel more and more unsteady. I look to the toilet but can’t sit down. It’s so unpleasant. Somehow it all feels dirty and wrong in here.
I keep very still, dreading more words through the door. Silence. I look at my phone, willing a text or a call. One minute. Two.
I try hard to steady my breathing. I’m worried I could become faint if I don’t get more oxygen into my system. I wait and wait and wait until at last the phone rings. Matthew.
‘He’s still outside the door, Matthew. He’s saying insidious stuff. Sexual. Nasty. What should I do?’ I’m whispering.
‘OK. So I’ve set things in motion but I don’t know how long this will take. They’re trying to get a message through. You need to be brave and just stay put for a bit. Can you do that for me, Alice?’
‘Yes. I suppose so.’
Matthew then talks about his day. About his daughter who is apparently going through the terrible twos, which is challenging. He says she loves travelling on trains. He tells me that once they went on a Thomas the Tank Engine day and she had never been so happy. I listen, barely able to take in what he’s saying but almost tearful at the effort he’s making to distract me.
I keep looking at the door, dreading more knocking. More whispering. And then Matthew says a text has just come in. He breaks away to check it and is then more upbeat.
‘OK. Alice. Good news. We’ve called in a favour. Managed to fast-track this. The member of staff coming to help you is called Ben. He’s safe, Alice. He’s railway staff and he’ll be in uniform. He’ll introduce himself and then accompany you back to a different seat in first class. He’ll also check tickets so we can find out where the bald guy’s getting off so we can arrange an arrest. You should pretend you’ve been feeling unwell . . .’
‘I’ve already said that.’
‘Go
od thinking. Very good. So stay with that story, OK? Wait for Ben. Is this OK, Alice?’
‘Yes. I’ll wait. You won’t ring off?’
‘No, no. I’ll stay on the phone now until Ben is with you. OK?’
‘OK. I don’t know how to thank you.’ I’m still whispering, clutching the phone so tightly that my knuckles are white.
‘Don’t be silly. We’re going to keep you safe, Alice.’
‘Do you think it could be him, Matthew? Do you think I’m being completely ridiculous?’
‘No one is being ridiculous, Alice. Just wait . . . OK?’
‘OK.’
I wonder if I should keep talking to Matthew but I’m worried about the bald guy hearing even this whispering, so I just wait, the phone pressed hard to my ear.
It seems to be an age. Matthew talks some more about his daughter and then at last there’s some kind of new movement outside the door. Then a different voice, speaking up deliberately loudly.
‘Excuse me, sir. But could I ask you to step aside, please? This toilet has been occupied for some time. It comes up on the steward’s board when this happens. I need to check there isn’t a problem. In case someone is unwell inside.’
Next there’s knocking. ‘Hello? Hello? My name is Ben and I’m railway staff. Are you all right in there?’
‘I’m not feeling very well actually, Ben.’ I feel my eyes darting from left to right as I raise my voice to be heard through the door.
‘OK. Well, can you unlock the door and I’ll see if I can help you.’
Slowly I unlock the door.
‘I’m sorry. I’m just feeling a little bit faint.’
‘Not to worry, madam. I’ll help you.’
Ben – a short, stocky man who looks to be in his late thirties – leans forward, widening his eyes as if to reassure me. I let him take my arm and help me into the open space between carriages. I don’t have to pretend; I genuinely feel unsteady on my feet. As I move through the wider space, I see the bald man is over by the exit door, pretending to enjoy the fresh air from the partially open window.
As we move towards the carriage, the bald man heads into the toilet and I hear the click of the lock. Ben whispers as we continue forward, ‘Another member of staff will keep an eye on him and check his ticket and his destination. I’ve got you a seat in first class. It’s quiet and safe there and we’ll bring you a sandwich and a drink. Would you like tea or coffee? Or water?’
‘Coffee and some water, please. This is so good of you.’
‘Not at all. All part of our service, madam. We’re going to keep you safe, OK?’
We continue right through three carriages before Ben settles me into my new seat, returning soon afterwards with drinks and also my pink case, which I pointed out on the way past.
I ring Matthew to update him.
‘Good. That’s all good. You feeling better, Alice?’
I glance around the carriage. A few of the other passengers have their headphones in. Others are asleep. ‘Yes. Still shaken but better. So what happens now? What if I was just overreacting, Matthew? What if he’s just a perv, plain and simple?’
‘Whether this guy is your stalker or not, he’s a first-class creep and he needs to be questioned. You have nothing to feel guilty about, Alice. You did the right thing reporting this, and I’ll keep you updated.’
Ten minutes later, and Ben returns to whisper that the man will be getting off at Newton Abbot. It’s a long way yet, but police will be on standby to arrest and question him. I’ll need to make a full statement when I get off at Plymouth. Is this OK? The police have been in touch and have offered to send a patrol car to meet me.
I nod, feeling close to tears. And then – damn – I take out my phone, realising suddenly that I need to update Tom. I wonder if he will be cross that I didn’t phone him first.
I think of the police arresting the bald man – and Alex too? I wonder as I press the Call button what precisely to say to Tom. If it’s all nearly over.
Or if another nightmare chapter is just beginning . . .
CHAPTER 36
ALICE
The next morning, I feel so groggy. I must have fallen asleep at some point but the last time I looked at the clock it was 3 a.m. I don’t remember Tom getting up.
I hear clattering. The sound of the milk frother on the coffee machine and at last he appears, holding two mugs.
‘Matthew Hill’s here. In the kitchen.’
‘What? Here already?’ I check the clock – 7 a.m. – and feel self-conscious in my faded pyjamas and this terrible state of disorientation. I just can’t think straight. I remember agreeing to stay here at Tom’s rather than returning to my house after giving a statement to the police, but it was very late by the time we got here. We talked for a long time. Drank too many glasses of red wine.
I learned that Matthew and Mel Sanders have a friend in the transport police who, by chance, had been on duty. He pulled some strings for them to get such a fast response on the train. I’d apparently been lucky.
Lucky?
Quite frankly, I feel the unluckiest woman on the planet. If the bald guy isn’t my stalker, why the hell did he pick me for his perving? Out of all the women on the train? Am I sending out paranoia signals to attract the world’s army of lowlifes? Is there something written on my forehead? Perfect victim – feel free. Was that because of Alex? Was all this because . . . of . . . Alex?
I remember so clearly, checking that clock during the early hours and longing for the refuge of sleep. Instead my mind just wouldn’t still, rolling the film over and over. Walking me through all the dreadful scenes, one after another. The phone call. The cake box. The spray of ice-cold liquid.
And now? It’s once again the day I dread. The day he wants me to dread – and I have no energy left to face it.
Wednesday.
I take in my reflection in one of the mirrored panels of Tom’s smart new fitted wardrobe. Panda eyes. Must have left my make-up on. Don’t remember brushing my teeth either.
There was a time when I didn’t mind looking in the mirror. I got lucky. My mother’s genes. I turn to the side to see a copy of her profile. The same neat nose. The problem is I haven’t looked at myself for so long; I just look permanently exhausted these days. I take in the dark circles under my eyes and am shocked to find I don’t especially care. But then I think of Matthew in the kitchen . . .
‘Oh God. Look at me. I need to take a shower.’
Tom leans forward to kiss my shoulder. ‘No hurry and no worries, sweets. You’ve had an awful time. No one cares what you look like. Look – I’m sorry but I can only stay until seven- thirty. I need to leave then – Crown Court. You remember? I can’t find anyone to cover. I’m the only one fully briefed and it’s an important client.’
‘Oh Christ, I’d forgotten actually. But it’s fine. Of course. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’ve warned Matthew he’s to stick to you like glue today. No arguments. Not until we know what’s happening with Alex. Or this nut job from the train.’
‘Is he still in custody? The guy on the train?’
‘Don’t know. Matthew’s waiting to hear from his police contact. You take a shower – no hurry – and I’ll make him some breakfast before I leave.’
‘You’re not still cross with him, are you, Tom? Over that motorcycle attack? It really wasn’t his fault. And he was fantastic on the phone to me yesterday.’
‘For you I’m on my best behaviour with him, I promise.’ He kisses me a second time and then stands. ‘Right. I’ll get some toast on.’
Half an hour later and Tom is on the way to court and I’m sitting on the high black-and-chrome stool at the breakfast bar. Matthew’s drinking his third coffee after polishing off most of our fresh loaf.
I stare at him. Fair, wavy hair cut quite short. Slim, despite the appetite. I find myself wondering what his wife looks like. And his daughter. He’s sitting on the small leather sofa which divides the kitchen and dining space, ch
ecking his phone. I wonder if they mind him working like this.
‘No word from DI Sanders?’ I’m trying for a calm tone but my chin twitches as I speak. Must be the tiredness. I run my right hand through my hair, which I’m allowing to dry naturally. Couldn’t face the hair dryer.
‘Not yet.’ Matthew manages a smile. ‘We should have news on Alex by ten a.m. at the very latest.’
‘How so?’
‘Sorry, but I’m not actually supposed to say, Alice. But they have good intelligence on where he is. So we’re confident of an arrest.’
‘And the guy on the train?’
‘Still in custody but we expect him to get bail today with the help of a duty solicitor.’
‘Oh?’
Matthew lets out a long sigh. ‘He’s got a record, Alice. Exposed himself on a train once before. Accused of stealing underwear from a flatmate. Clearly a first-class weirdo but it’s not looking like he has anything to do with your previous stalking. He was in France until the weekend, working in the bar at a campsite. That’s been verified already and there’s nothing linking him to you that the police can see yet. Obviously Mel Sanders and her team will look into his phone and computer records very carefully before we’re sure.’
‘Right. So what did he say when he was questioned? About what happened on the train? About why he followed me?’
‘Stuff and nonsense. I wouldn’t give it any more thought. He’s a pest.’
‘No. I’d like to know what he said, Matthew.’
‘He claims you encouraged him to follow you to the toilet.’
‘Bastard.’
‘Exactly.’
‘So why the hell did he target me? And please don’t say bad luck.’
‘I don’t know, Alice. But sometimes creeps cast around for someone they think looks . . .’ Matthew pauses.
‘Vulnerable?’
Matthew again lets out a sigh. ‘I don’t want to say the wrong thing here, Alice. But you’ve been through a lot. Sometimes the strain can just wear someone out. And lowlifes sometimes look out for that. Pick it up.’
I Will Make You Pay Page 17
