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 pas-
sengers 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.
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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…
204
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
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
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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.’
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‘I’ve warned Matthew he’s to stick to you like glue
today. No arguments. Not until we know what’s happen-
ing 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 prom-
ise.’ 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, checking 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.’
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Teresa Driscoll
‘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 steal-
ing underwear from a flatmate. Clearly a first-class weirdo
but it’s not looking like he has any
thing 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 care-
fully before we’re sure.’
‘Right. So what did he say when he was questioned?
About what happened on the train? About why he fol-
lowed 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?’
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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.’
‘You should be a detective.’
He laughs and finishes his coffee. ‘Right. So what’s
the plan for today? You want to just stay home and try
to catch up on some sleep? I can keep out of your way if
you want to watch films or whatever. But Tom’s right.
If you want to go out, then I’m the driver.’
‘OK. I’ll have a think. I may just stay in and do some
writing actually.’ I’m remembering now the conversa-
tion with Claire from the charity. I’d like to check out
that alarm she was talking about. And I’ve certainly got
plenty to write about. I fancy trying the first anonymous
blog. Get some of this out of my system and on to paper.
I take out my phone, planning to send a text first to
Leanne to update her that Matthew’s with me so I’m safe.
But as I reach for it, it rings – my sister’s name flashing.
‘Leanne. Are you psychic? I was literally just about
to message you.’
‘You haven’t seen it, have you?’ Leanne’s voice is barely
recognisable. High-pitched. Desperate.
‘Seen what?’
‘Go to Twitter, Alice. It’s horrible. You’re tagged and
I’m tagged.’
209
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Him – before
The head teacher’s office is bigger than he remembers. He’s
only been in here once before – when his gran was taken ill.
That time, years back, he was collected from his class and
led here with no explanation. But he knew something big
was up because they brought him lemonade and a chocolate
biscuit. The head teacher asked a lot of questions about what relatives he had. She wanted to know if there was anyone
she could call because his gran had had a little upset.
He told the head teacher that he only had his gran
and her face sort of changed and she said he was not to
worry but she needed to make some phone calls in the
other office. He got more chocolate biscuits.
In the end, a weird woman turned up and told him
again not to worry. Which made him worry a lot. She took him in her car to a house in town where a lady called
Abby said he would be staying with her for a couple of
days. He thought it was some kind of trick and was in a
terrible panic. He wondered if he should run away but
they took him to see his gran in hospital that evening.
She said it was all a fuss about nothing. She’d collapsed at work and twisted her ankle and they insisted on X-rays.
She kept asking the nurses to be allowed home, and when
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I Will Make You Pay
they said it was a bad idea, she began to cry. He remembers
it really clearly – watching his gran cry.
There was another lady called Dawn at the hospital
who said he could stay with Abby for a couple of nights
until his gran was better. He asked to stay in the hospital
instead but they wouldn’t let him so he lied. He told his
gran that he was fine with it all. Abby gave him pyjamas
and some spare clothes. She was sort of nice but her house
smelled a bit weird and he still didn’t know if it was a
trick. He had never been so afraid.
Then after two nights his gran turned up in a taxi
and took him home, and he clung on to her really, real-
ly tight. She promised that they would never, ever have
anything to do with social services ever again.
What’s social services?
Busybodies. We don’t need them poking about our lives.
They’ll take you away. You don’t talk to them, you hear me?
If anyone asks questions, you say we’re fine.
Luckily it was half-term, so he stayed home and helped
his gran until she could walk a bit better.
* * *
Today in the head teacher’s office everything feels quite
serious again. This time his gran is sitting right next to
him. They had to wait until she finished work.
The head teacher is called Mrs Price and she looks
very upset. She’s trying to be all calm on the outside but
her neck is red, right up to her chin.
He’s eight now and he’s better at reading people’s
faces. You learn a lot if you watch people really, really
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Teresa Driscoll
‘I simply don’t believe my grandson would bully any-
one,’ his gran says. ‘I think there’s been a misunderstand-
ing. He’s a sweet boy. A gentle boy. I think he’s the one
being picked on.’
‘The other child is in hospital with a broken arm.’ The
head teacher’s voice is quiet but the red on her neck gets
darker. ‘This is serious. There are witnesses to say that
this was deliberate. That the other child was punched and
pushed to the ground and then kicked. Your grandson
had to be pulled off the other child.’ Mrs Price looks at
him. ‘Why did you do this? We can’t allow this kind of
violence. You are a very clever boy and you could have a
great future. But you have to understand that this is very,
very serious and I may have to consider a suspension. You
need to explain why you did such a terrible thing.’
He remembers exactly. He was upset because of Brian.
He was thinking about the disgusting ‘favours’ and the
tin full of sweets and special chocolates which make him
want to be sick. He was picturing all the things he would
do to Brian when he was bigger. The hammer and the
eagle attack. He got the volcano feeling in his tummy.
And then Toby was saying some rubbish about his gran
being very, very old-looking. Toby’s grandfather had
just died and they burned him in his coffin until he was
just ash, like in the grate after a fire. Toby was saying a
lot of stupid stuff about old people dying and how it w
as
just natural; and he just got really, really cross with Toby
until the volcano in his tummy exploded.
‘It was an accident,’ he says.
‘There,’ his gran says, taking his hand in her own.
She squeezes it tight. ‘A misunderstanding. Like I said.
I’m quite sure there was provocation. My grandson would
never hurt anyone on purpose.’
212
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Matthew
‘It’s my mother. Oh no – my mother. My mother!’ Alice
is now standing and staring at her phone, all the blood
gone from her face. Ghost Alice. She sort of buckles, and
Matthew’s worried she may collapse completely and hit
her head as she falls.
He reaches for her elbow to steady her and tries to
steer her back to a stool, but she sweeps his arm away
and starts shouting.
‘No. No. Don’t touch me. Oh Jeez. My mother. I
think he’s got my mother!’
‘Show me. Alice. Show me what it is. I’m going to
help you. But I need to see. To understand you.’
Alice looks at him as if she hasn’t heard. She is gripping
the phone, her knuckles white, as if she can’t bear to let it go. He widens his eyes to encourage her – trying to coax
her out of her shock. Finally, she hands him the phone, her
fingers trembling and her eyes huge and wild with fear.
There’s a video auto-playing on her Twitter feed. It
shows a woman, gasping for breath. Yes. Struggling to
breathe, as if suffocating.
For a terrible moment Matthew fears this is the posting
of an attack. Some kind of strangulation? That the bastard
has attacked Alice’s mother and posted the evidence. He
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Teresa Driscoll
sucks in breath to move into professional gear. He braces
to watch the video again as it loops, and this time takes in
the detail; he can see that the woman has oxygen tubes
feeding into her nose. He frowns. Right. So it looks as if
she is in some kind of medical setting. There’s an oxygen
bottle in the background.
‘Has he got her? Is he with her? Has he posted this
live? Is this happening this minute?’ Alice now has tears
streaming down her face.
‘I don’t know, Alice. But I’m phoning this in to the
police and I need you to help me. Look at the video again
and tell me if you recognise the place. The room…’
She shakes her head. She doesn’t want to look.
‘I’m sorry, Alice. But you have to help me.’