‘Who are you?’ I ask, interested rather than scared.
‘You’re not who I thought you were, so who are you?’
I put the phone down, feeling strangely victorious, but to my dismay he phones straight back. I stand there wondering if I should answer, knowing that if I don’t he’ll call until I do. But I don’t want to give him what he wants, I don’t want to stand there submissively silent, not any more. I’ve lost too many weeks of my life already.
If I don’t want to lose any more, I need to start standing up to him.
Worried that I’ll end up cracking, I go out to the
garden to get away from the sound of the phone. I think about taking it off the hook so that he can’t get through but I don’t want to anger him any more than I already Title: The Breakdown ARC, Format: 126x198, v1, Output date:08/11/16
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have. The other option is to go out for the day and only come home once Matthew is back. But I’m fed-up being driven from my home. What I need is something to keep me busy.
My eyes fall on my secateurs, which are lying where I left them two months before, the day before Hannah and Andy came round for a barbecue, on the windowsill along with my gloves, so I decide to do a bit of pruning.
It takes me about an hour to get the roses in shape and then I weed steadily until lunchtime, marvelling that whoever is calling me has so much time to spare on a futile exercise, because he must have guessed by now that I’m not going to pick up. I try to work out the sort of man he is but I know that to stereotype him as a loner who has trouble forming relationships would be a mistake. He could be a pillar of the community, a family man, a man with plenty of friends and interests.
The only thing I’m sure about now is that he’s someone I know, and this makes me less frightened than perhaps I should be.
It’s sobering to realise that if hadn’t been for the murder, I would never have put up with his calls in the first place. I would have laughed at him down the phone, called him pathetic, told him that if he didn’t stop annoying me I would call the police. The only reason I didn’t was because I thought he was the murderer and I was so paralysed by fear that I couldn’t do anything. The thought that he has got away with so much for so long makes me determined to bring him out into the open.
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Around one o’clock the calls, which have been getting
less frequent, suddenly stop altogether, as if he’s decided to take a break for lunch. Or maybe he has repetitive strain injury from dialling my number so often. I take a leaf from his book and make myself some lunch, pleased that I’ve managed to stay so long in the house by myself. But when two-thirty comes and goes without him calling back I begin to feel uneasy. Although I’m determined to bring him out of hiding, I’m not ready for him yet.
Wanting to be able to protect myself in case he decides to pay me a visit, I go to the garden shed and take out a hoe, a rake and, more importantly, some hedge cutters, and move to the front of the house where I feel safer.
As I’m clearing dead flowers from a bed, the man from up the road – the ex-pilot – walks by and this time he calls hello. I realise I’ve always been so nervous around him before, and this time I look over at him, weighing him up. I feel so much better after my chat with Alex yesterday, and the man looks sad, not sinister, so I say hello back.
I do about another hour’s gardening, keeping an ear out for the phone and when I’ve finished I bring one of the sunbeds round to the side of the house and rest until Matthew gets back. But I can’t relax. I want to get my life back but I know I’m not going to be able to do that until I find out who my tormentor is. And to do that, I’m going to need help.
I go into the hall and phone Rachel.
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‘I don’t suppose you could meet me after work, could you?’
‘Is everything all right?’ she asks.
‘Yes, everything’s fine, I just want your help with something.’
‘Sounds intriguing! I can meet you in Castle Wells, if you like, but I can’t get there until six-thirty. Will that do?’
I hesitate, because I haven’t been back to Castle Wells since I lost my car in the car park. But I can’t expect Rachel to always come to Browbury when she only works ten minutes away from Castle Wells.
‘The Spotted Cow?’
‘See you there.’
I leave Matthew a note telling him I’ve gone to buy myself a new mobile and drive to Castle Wells. I don’t want to risk parking in the multi-storey again so I find a space in one of the smaller car parks and head for the main shopping precinct. As I walk past the Spotted Cow, I look through the window to see if it’s already crowded and see Rachel sitting at a table halfway down the room. Just as I’m wondering why she’s already there, an hour earlier than she told me she would be, somebody walks over to her table and sits down. And I find myself staring at John.