He's After Me

Chapter FORTY-ONE



The next day, things move rapidly. Dad comes round early, his face grim.

‘They need you down at the station for a statement.’

‘Have some breakfast first,’ says Mum.

I shake my head.

‘No, I can’t eat a thing. Let’s just get it over and done with.’

‘I’m coming with you then.’ Mum goes out to the hall to grab her coat. ‘Livi!’ she shouts, ‘We’ve got to go out.’

Livi appears at the top of the stairs in her pyjamas, her hair tousled. ‘Where you going?’ she asks.

‘Police station,’ says Dad. ‘We’re going to nail that little toe-rag once and for all.’

Livi’s face turns ugly with fury and she disappears into her bedroom and slams the door.

Down at the station we are met by a DC Blane who ushers us into an interview room. It’s cold and bare, just a desk with chairs either side. He and a woman police officer sit down to question me. I’m scared but I insist my parents leave the room while I talk to them. I don’t want them to hear all the details.

They’re not unkind, but it’s blatantly obvious they think I’ve been an idiot. I do too. How easy did I make it for Jem?

‘Why did you leave him in the apartment on his own?’ asks the detective.

‘I trusted him.’

His left eyebrow rises, barely perceptible, but enough to convey his opinion. ‘Miss Davenport tells us she kept her pin number in her diary. Probably not the best thing to do, in retrospect. Could Jem have had access to this?’

I nod, remembering. ‘I saw him reading Jude’s diary one day.’

‘Good.’

I tell them what they want to know. I don’t tell them everything. I don’t tell them about us going out graffitiing. We’re in enough trouble as it is. I don’t tell them about the photos of Jude on the computer either. Why not? I’m a lawyer’s daughter. They don’t ask and I don’t want to complicate things.

Before long I’ve given my statement and am reunited with my parents in reception. They put their arms around me and give me a hug.

‘What happens now?’ I ask.

‘They’ll charge him and he’ll be given a date to appear in court.’

‘Will they let him out?’

Dad nods stiffly past me. ‘There’s your answer.’

Jem is walking out of an interview room accompanied by a man in a suit carrying a briefcase.

‘His solicitor?’ asks Mum.

‘Well, you didn’t expect me to represent him, did you?’ says Dad wryly. Jem sees me and his face lights up.

‘Anna!’

‘Come on,’ says Dad, taking me firmly by the shoulders. ‘Time to go home.’ I turn away, my eyes blinded with tears.

In the car on the way home, my phone starts ringing. It’s Jem, of course. I ignore the calls, so he texts me. I open it.

Big mistake! I read, then the car swerves as my phone is snatched out of my hand.

‘What are you doing?’ I shout.

‘I’ll take care of that!’ says Dad grimly. He switches the phone off and sticks it in his pocket. I stare out of the window, furious.

At home the house is quiet. Livi has left for school. I go upstairs and get my things together. When I come back down, Mum and Dad, who are in cohorts in the kitchen, turn to look at me.

‘Where are you going?’ asks Dad.

‘College, where do you think?’

‘I’ll give you a lift.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘No bother.’

I know what he’s doing. Making sure I go nowhere near Jem. ‘Can I have my phone?’ I ask.

‘No. I want to hang on to it for a while.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Why?’

‘For your own protection. I don’t want you to have anything to do with that man.’

‘Neither do I! Don’t you trust me?’

‘Yes! Of course we do!’ says Mum.

‘He doesn’t!’ I scowl at Dad.

‘I do,’ he says, but I don’t believe him. Then he adds, his voice gentle. ‘It’s him I don’t trust, Anna, not you. I don’t want him talking to you. I’ll keep it for a day or two, that’s all. He’ll soon give up if he can’t get through.’

Yeah? You don’t know him like I do. I blink hard, trying not to fall apart. Don’t be nice to me, Dad, please. If you’re cross with me I can cope, but if you’re nice I’ll dissolve into a wailing, blubbery mess.

‘Keep it. What difference does it make?’

I get through the day somehow. Dad insists on picking me up, which is a pain because I’m free last lesson but I’d forgotten to tell him, so I have to hang around.

I go into the library to wait for him. It’s busy in there, all the computers and most of the tables full. I sit down and work for a while but my brain soon gives up. I’m knackered.

I can see Zoe seemingly working away at a computer. But when I go up to speak to her, I see she’s on Facebook.

‘Skiver!’ I say and she jumps. We’re not supposed to go on social sites at college but we all do.

‘I’ve finished now,’ she says.

‘Can I check mine?’

She gets up obligingly and I log into my account.

Jem has posted a comment on my wall.

Anna Williams is a thieving, lying slag.

Underneath Livi has posted one too.

Yeah, you’re right.

I gasp. Which one hurts the most?

Quickly I log on to my messages. There are loads from Jem. I scroll through them. I wish I hadn’t.

The stuff that is written there is vile. They all follow the same theme. I’d led him along. I’d stolen the money, the jewellery, not him. Then I’d left him to carry the can. He’d loved me but I’d let him down and now I wouldn’t even answer my phone. I was this, I was that – horrible, abusive labels that make me moan in pain, like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

Hearing me, Zoe comes up and reads over my shoulder, inhaling in horror.

‘Psycho!’ she growls. ‘You don’t have to read that rubbish!’ she leans forward and deletes them all, one after the other. Then she leads me to a table and sits me down. I’m shaking.

‘What brought this on?’ she asks.

‘I shopped him to the cops.’

‘Good for you! Now you can forget all about him. He’s out of your life, for ever.’

She talks me through it, calming me down. Jem has done his worst, she explains. What more could he do? It’s over.

And I almost believe her, there in the sane, industrious world of the busy library.

Till I get outside.





It was easy. Throw it up, one colour, bright red.

Nobody noticed him at the college, just another student.

Straight up the drainpipe on to the roof, dress up the wall in seconds, slide back down again.

Job done.

On to the next one.