Stalker

by Gemma Rogers

  ‘Eve, are you okay?’ Detective Emmerson was back in the room, her hand resting on my shoulder. When did she return?

  ‘Yeah.’ I sat, pressing my ice like palms against my steaming face. The room eased back into focus. Although relieved she was alone, there was a possibility I would be sick on the floor.

  ‘Let me get you some water.’ Off she went, and the room was empty again.

  I balled my hands into fists and banged them against my thighs. Furious I had shown weakness. He was going to pay for what he’d reduced me to. I blinked away hot tears which threatened to spill.

  The door opened, and Emmerson returned with a plastic cup of water, which I drank in one go. The way she observed me, her face full of concern, amplified the heat in my scarlet cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Are you okay? Do you feel able to continue?’

  Continue what? We hadn’t even started.

  Her palm rested across a pile of blank sheets of paper on the table.

  ‘I have six photos here of potential suspects. I’ve included the man arrested for indecent exposure and a still from the CCTV I told you about from the day of the attack. When you’re ready, I’ll turn them over,’ she said, as if I were a child.

  A photo, I could handle a photo, couldn’t I? Exhaling the breath I’d been holding, I gave her a quick nod and she flipped the pages over one at time. The first was the CCTV image and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. My attacker was striding past someone’s driveway, dressed in black, his hood pulled up and face hidden. I could see what Emmerson meant, there was almost nothing to go on, but it was definitely him.

  ‘You think it’s him?’ Emmerson asked as I tapped the image of the CCTV.

  ‘Yes.’ My voice was quiet, like a mouse.

  After a minute, I looked at the other photos. Men aged between twenty and forty, some dark, some blond, all with white skin. One had a kind of tribal tattoo on his face. I looked at them in turn, waited for an emotion, any kind of emotion, but nothing came. I was numb. I searched for blue eyes, but none were his. These were the eyes of other people’s nightmares, not mine. They didn’t fill me with a sense of dread and they weren’t the ones I saw every time I closed my eyes, as if he stood right in front of me. My attacker’s eyes were bright blue, the colour of topaz. On anyone else they would have been a handsome feature, I was sure. But his were blank and lifeless, they looked straight through you.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s none of them.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked, still hoping for a positive identification.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  I walked home from the police station in a daze, unable to shake the feeling I was being watched. I kept hearing footsteps behind me that weren’t there, turning around every few steps. Perhaps I’d been spooked by seeing a picture of him. My stomach felt tied up in knots and I couldn’t wait to get back to the safety of the flat. There was only one thing I wanted to do and that was to block him out of my mind.

  Twenty minutes later, armed with a mug of tea, I headed to my room and popped the small white pill out of the blister packaging. The spaced-out feeling crept up on me slowly. It was like slipping into a warm bath with no worries or cares. My mind wandered, never settling on anything. Time slowed and I with it. When it wore off at around seven, I took another, intending to keep going until I’d run out.

  11

  Friday 6 October 2017

  On day three, Ben staged an intervention. The whole thing was ridiculous, and we argued. I didn’t have the energy for confrontation, my mind dulled by medication, but I made my point. How was it different from him getting stoned in his room every time his knee twinged? I knew I wasn’t being fair, but I felt under attack.

  ‘The rest of the time I’m still living, Eve. I’m in the fucking world, not shut away.’

  I pushed him out of my room, but he sat outside my door for a while, refusing to move. He was stubborn.

  ‘Talk to me. It might help if you talk to me.’

  So, I told him, I spat the words angrily at first, through a haze of tears. Told him how I was brutalised over a bin, discarded like I was a piece of rubbish. How I could barely look myself in the mirror knowing I’d hindered the investigation. How I worried about the other women he may have hurt. He listened through the door. I could hear his gasps of shock and sighs of frustration, but he let me talk without interruption until I had nothing left to say.

  ‘If you carry on living like this, he’s won.’

  I couldn’t answer him.

  ‘Come and see me when you’re ready. I’ve got some ideas,’ Ben said, before I heard his door click shut and the sound of the Xbox firing up.

  I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling as my anger subsided. Ben was just trying to help. I tried to imagine what it must look like to him, seeing his flatmate retreat from life altogether.

  My phone rang, muffled by the duvet. Was it Mum again? I’d missed two calls over the past couple of days, not wanting to speak to her whilst I was out of it. I’d missed one from Stuart too, yesterday and when I finally found the phone, I saw it was him calling.

  ‘Hi Stuart,’ I answered, my voice shaky.

  ‘Hi Eve. How are you doing?’ he sounded relieved I’d answered.

  ‘I’m doing okay.’

  ‘That’s great. Listen, don’t worry, I’m not calling about your return to work. I wanted to check in and see how you were doing but I also wanted to let you know what’s happening here.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said.

  He paused for a second and I sensed bad news was coming.

  ‘Debbie wanted to call you, but I wanted to speak to you first. As a result of the merger, they’ve put a large group of us at risk. Some will be able to request voluntary redundancy. If we don’t want to take voluntary, then it’s likely we may have to reapply for our positions.’ His voice was sombre, he was clearly unhappy about the development. ‘There’s going to be a consultation meeting on Monday, it’s the first step in the collective process. You do not have to attend if you don’t want to, but I think it would be in your interest.’

  There was a long pause and I could hear Stuart’s rapid breathing at the other end. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say.

  ‘There’ll also be one-to-one consultations where you’ll be able to ask any questions and I’ve been told it’s not an immediate thing. By law they have to give us thirty days for the process. Mike in Operations is going to be one of the employee representatives.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said slowly, trying to take it all in. My stomach churned.

  ‘I think Debbie has sent you an email with the initial announcement, so you can take a look. Listen, don’t worry. Come in on Monday to the meeting and we can talk it through afterwards.’ Stuart rang off, having to go as he had his wife on the other line. Probably pacing her lounge waiting to find out if her husband was going to lose his job.

  My heart raced at the thought of the bills stuffed underneath my wardrobe, some unopened. How was I going to pay them now? I had to face it, sit down and work out exactly what I owed. I knew my overdraft was maxed out and my credit card was slowly rising. It wasn’t a massive amount of money, a few thousand pounds, but looking around, I had nothing much to show for it. Some clothes, a laptop, a few nights out, but before I knew it, it had snowballed. I’d cut back at home, cancelling the satellite TV, limiting the amount of food I bought. Ben always commented there was nothing in the fridge, but he thought I was just busy, not skint. I knew I had a large council tax bill coming too. Maybe a lump sum of redundancy could solve my financial problems? I could get another job and start again with a clean slate.

  Before seeking out Ben, I took a much-needed shower, but I could no longer bring myself to eat anything. My stomach was in knots with indecision. When he came out of his room to find me, he looked pleased with himself.

  ‘Right. Operation Let’s Get Eve’s Shit Together commences.’

  I rolled my eyes.

  ‘You got any gym g
ear?’ he asked. I nodded; I had some leggings and a couple of T-shirts I’d bought for a yoga class stuffed at the back of a drawer.

  ‘My mate runs a boxing club. He does Boxercise too, but I told him it might be a step too far. We’re going there tonight, and you can have a few rounds with a punchbag. Get out that residual anger. What do you think?’

  ‘I think it’s ridiculous.’ I sat with my arms crossed, there was no way I was going. Boxing? I barely had any muscle strength at all. My limbs were stringy at best.

  ‘I’m going to come with you. I’ve taken the night off work. It’s Friday night, so it’ll be quiet, I promise.’

  I sighed, resigned to the fact there would be no getting out of it; Ben would be like a dog with a bone.

  When we walked in to the boxing club, half an hour later, it smelt of sweat and cleaning products combined. I was expecting an old brick building, like in the Rocky films. This one was modern, housed in a warehouse on an industrial estate. There were a few men inside; two were pounding punchbags and one was skipping so fast you couldn’t see the rope. It was mesmerising, like a permanent arc of light.

  I shrank behind Ben as soon as we walked through the door, using him as a shield. A tall, heavyset, mixed-race man, with short black hair in tight curls, came out of the office and gave him a slap him on the back before noticing me.

  ‘’Ello mate, how you doing?’ He was bouncy, with a slight cockney accent, and wore one of those ridiculous muscle vests. Although he had the physique to carry it off. They shook hands, the man pumping Ben’s arm so hard I thought it might fall off.

  ‘Not too bad, I see you got your lockers fitted?’

  ‘Delivered yesterday.’

  I looked around. Everything gleamed. New equipment, modern silver lockers and specific zoned areas for each activity. The ring in the centre was enormous, with glaring spotlights overhead. Not at all what I was expecting.

  ‘It’s coming along. So, who is this young lady?’

  They both turned their attention to me and fire rose in my cheeks. I was under the microscope.

  ‘This is Eve. My flatmate. Sorry, Eve, this is my good friend, Jason. We used to work together a few years ago.’

  I held out my hand, ready to have my arm pumped, but Jason was much gentler with me. His dark eyes glinted, looking at me and then Ben. I wondered if Ben had mentioned me to him before?

  ‘Eve would like to learn a bit about boxing, using the bags and some technique perhaps?’

  I glared at Ben, but if Jason noticed he didn’t comment. Five minutes later I had my hands wrapped in tape and shoved in gloves which were so big, it was comical. I looked like a clown.

  Jason took his time explaining the correct way to punch, the movement coming from my shoulder, and how to pivot on my feet. It was a lot to take in and I’d never been a fan of boxing before, but it was fascinating. He gave Ben some pads and I punched them whilst we circled each other on the mats. At first, we were trying not to laugh, but it wasn’t long before I was sweating. My shoulders screaming at me to stop. I was so unfit.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ Ben said, laughing as he absorbed a blow, teetering on the heels of his feet before regaining his balance.

  ‘This is so hard,’ I whimpered, letting my arms drop to my sides. It felt like I’d been carrying a bag of bricks. Ben grinned like a Cheshire cat, pleased with himself.

  ‘What’s your goal then? Do you want to start boxing?’ Jason asked. He took the pads off Ben and danced around me. I raised my arms once more, my energy almost gone, and tried to strike out.

  ‘I’m not sure. I mean, I’d like to build myself up a bit, get fitter, but I’m not sure about fighting,’ I wheezed. I used to think three minutes in a ring was no time at all, but the physical exertion was immense. I staggered and sat on the mat, catching my breath. I was done. Ben sat down beside me, his skin glistened. He was slim but broad in the shoulders and I hadn’t really noticed the size of his biceps before now. Warmth flooded my face and I looked away.

  ‘Well, I reckon you could do with some weights. Get some protein in you and start lifting and you should see results quite quickly. Feel free to come and use the equipment here.’ Jason grinned, and I was waiting for him to ask me to sign on the dotted line. Twelve months of gym membership I couldn’t afford, but he didn’t. Instead, he carefully removed the gloves and placed an ice pack on my swollen knuckles. The cold a welcome relief.

  We had tea in his office and a couple of younger guys came in to train whilst we were there. I watched them through the glass, amazed by how fast they could move and the power behind their punches. When they began sparring in the ring, I was captivated. Ben and Jason chatted about old times, a few years previous, when they had both worked as weekend nightclub bouncers for a bit of extra cash.

  ‘Do you remember Pacino?’ Jason asked, nudging Ben’s shoulder. The actor’s name caught my attention and I turned back to the conversation.

  ‘God yeah, he liked a good scrap, didn’t he.’ Ben chuckled.

  Jason caught sight of my confused expression and elaborated. ‘This guy, I forget his real name, he loved action movies, the more violent, the better. His favourite actor was Al Pacino. We had a row one night, making conversation, you know, when the door was quiet. I said Tom Hanks was the best actor of our generation and he went into one. From then on, he was known as Pacino. Loved getting stuck in to a fight – and he did all right with the ladies too.’

  ‘I think that was why he worked on the door,’ Ben added.

  ‘It was why we all did,’ Jason winked at Ben and continued to reminisce about the women from those days.

  By the sounds of it, Jason was a bit of a ladies’ man and teased Ben about trailing behind in bedpost notches. I was pleased. I had no claim on Ben, or any intention of our relationship moving beyond platonic, but it was nice to learn he wasn’t a player.

  12

  Saturday 7 October 2017

  I’d had a nice evening at the gym, it was a laugh listening to the banter between Ben and Jason. It made me realise how little I knew him, his friends, his family. As I tried to sleep, I kept picturing his sweaty face beaming at me from the mats, watching me try to skip and having no rhythm whatsoever. His perfectly shaped teeth dazzling under the spotlights and the touch of his fingers wrapped around mine as he helped me up when I fell. It felt weird to think of Ben that way. Almost as though I hadn’t looked at him properly before.

  I booted up my laptop early Saturday morning, after another fitful night. I had forgotten to check the email Debbie had sent yesterday and wanted to find out what had gone on at work. She’d written that they were missing me in the office and hoped I was feeling better. Not to rush back before I was ready but to let her know when I was up for having visitors as she would love to pop in for a tea. It was sweet of her and I found it easier to interact when not face to face. I typed a quick response back, letting her know I would see her on Monday for the meeting.

  The email Stuart was talking about was a communication that had been distributed to everyone involved; I found it further down my inbox. It explained the reason behind the decision for redundancies, that being the newly acquired company Drive had bought. The amalgamation would lead to a necessary restructuring of personnel. It laid out the terms of thirty days for consultations, one-to-one sessions with human resources and alternative proposals where possible to avoid losing staff. It added that voluntary redundancy options could be available for some candidates.

  I’d have to go in on Monday, but I still didn’t know what to do. Should I opt for the voluntary redundancy? I owed money that I didn’t have, unless I got a loan out to consolidate my debt or, worse, ask my mum to release money from her house. The idea didn’t bear thinking about and I didn’t mention it when she rang that morning, annoyed I hadn’t returned her call. Since my chat with Ben, I’d reverted to taking my medication at the prescribed dose so was back in the real world, more alert and better prepared to deal with her if she was drunk.
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br />   ‘How are you doing, love?’ Her words slurred even though it was barely ten o’clock.

  ‘Mum, you need to stop drinking. We talked about this, remember? We talked about going to that group, the AA. There’s one in Norwich, your doctor suggested it.’

  ‘What do I need to go to that for?’

  It was pointless talking to her in this state. She wouldn’t listen to reason. Other than go up there and lock her away, I wasn’t sure what else I could do. There was too much going on down here to deal with.

  ‘Mum, I was raped,’ I said, hoping to shock her out of her stupor.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I got attacked two weeks ago. It’s why I wasn’t feeling well. A man, he…’ I began to cry. It was always so difficult to say it out loud. To say what he’d done. Stripping my dignity, claiming my body.

  I heard a shuffle, like she’d dropped the phone and then a man’s voice, the country twang of his accent.

  ‘Come on, Liz, the Nelson will be open in a bit.’ Then the line went dead.

  I threw the phone across my room, it crashed into the wardrobe and bounced on the carpet. Fuck it, if she didn’t care, then why should I. Let her drink herself to death. The voice in my head said that it wouldn’t have been what Dad would have wanted. I knew that, of course I did, but what could I do? The weight of everything sat upon my shoulders. I needed a distraction, to take my mind off things and I knew just the person to help with that.