was about to press call but something stopped me. I could hear her words in my ear: the panic, the fervent plea for me to stay with her for a while, the resignation in her voice when I refused. I couldn’t put her through that. One thing she would never understand was why I needed to live here, away from her home. It was possible to commute to work from Watford, so she would never have accepted that as an excuse.
I carried on scrolling until I reached Dr Redfield’s name. She had given me her mobile number years ago but I’d never used it. I wasn’t even sure it was still her number, but I was out of options. After only a couple of rings, her voicemail kicked in. I hurriedly explained what had happened, not knowing what I expected her to do, only that I couldn’t deal with it alone.
My mind was empty of Julian as I paced up and down my living room in the dark, trying not to trip over books, waiting for the phone to ring. Half an hour ticked by but Dr Redfield didn’t return my call. I couldn’t blame her; she had a life of her own, and didn’t have to be at my beck and call. Especially when I didn’t even bother to keep my appointments.
Eventually I gave up waiting and headed to bed, knowing I wouldn’t sleep. I felt a lot of things as I lay there with my eyes closed. Fear, sadness, anxiety. But most of all I was angry that the life I had carefully constructed for myself was falling down around me, forcing me back to a time I couldn’t let myself remember.
SEVEN
I was not one for clichés or platitudes, but the one about never knowing how you will react in a certain situation is one I knew to be true. I thought I could handle anything, after all I’d been through, but the email knocked the wind out of me. In a way I had been violated, someone had shown me they were watching what I was doing, keeping tabs on me somehow. I shuddered at the thought of this.
And the next morning I did something I’d never done before. I called Sam and told her I was sick.
She was silent as I listed all my symptoms. Fever, nausea, shakes. It seemed like flu, I told her. I was only glad our conversation was being conducted over the phone, otherwise she would surely have seen through my feeble lie.
As it was, after the shock, I think Sam believed me. She offered her sympathy and told me not to hurry back. It felt despicable to accept her kindness, but I was used to lying by then. I was an expert at bending the truth and keeping things hidden, and my small lie about sickness was nothing compared to the lie that I myself was.
With work dealt with for the time being, I left the house and walked to the care home, a carrier bag full of books swinging from my arm. I was immediately greeted by Mick and Elsie, both of them sitting in the foyer coffee shop, their eyes lighting up when they spotted me. For at least a few hours I would be able to focus on them and forget all that waited for me at home.
Back in my flat that evening I had no clue what to do, how to deal with my tormentor. It was possible my computer had been hacked, but I would wait to see what happened next. My instincts screamed at me to ignore it all, surely whoever it was would give up eventually? But I was uneasy about doing this; someone had gone to a lot of trouble to dig up my past so I doubted they would give up easily.
Maria texted to ask if she could call and I welcomed the distraction. Hearing her news might take the edge off, and maybe she’d need help with something.
‘You poor thing,’ she said, when I answered. ‘It was weird you not being at work today, but sounds like you’ve caught something nasty. Where do you think you picked it up from? I don’t think anyone at work’s got it. Not yet anyway.’
I tried to make my voice sound weak, riddled with cold. Thankfully, Maria didn’t dwell on my illness too long, and in no time she was filling me in on work. I hadn’t missed much, but then what did I expect? It was rare that anything exciting
I carried on scrolling until I reached Dr Redfield’s name. She had given me her mobile number years ago but I’d never used it. I wasn’t even sure it was still her number, but I was out of options. After only a couple of rings, her voicemail kicked in. I hurriedly explained what had happened, not knowing what I expected her to do, only that I couldn’t deal with it alone.
My mind was empty of Julian as I paced up and down my living room in the dark, trying not to trip over books, waiting for the phone to ring. Half an hour ticked by but Dr Redfield didn’t return my call. I couldn’t blame her; she had a life of her own, and didn’t have to be at my beck and call. Especially when I didn’t even bother to keep my appointments.
Eventually I gave up waiting and headed to bed, knowing I wouldn’t sleep. I felt a lot of things as I lay there with my eyes closed. Fear, sadness, anxiety. But most of all I was angry that the life I had carefully constructed for myself was falling down around me, forcing me back to a time I couldn’t let myself remember.
SEVEN
I was not one for clichés or platitudes, but the one about never knowing how you will react in a certain situation is one I knew to be true. I thought I could handle anything, after all I’d been through, but the email knocked the wind out of me. In a way I had been violated, someone had shown me they were watching what I was doing, keeping tabs on me somehow. I shuddered at the thought of this.
And the next morning I did something I’d never done before. I called Sam and told her I was sick.
She was silent as I listed all my symptoms. Fever, nausea, shakes. It seemed like flu, I told her. I was only glad our conversation was being conducted over the phone, otherwise she would surely have seen through my feeble lie.
As it was, after the shock, I think Sam believed me. She offered her sympathy and told me not to hurry back. It felt despicable to accept her kindness, but I was used to lying by then. I was an expert at bending the truth and keeping things hidden, and my small lie about sickness was nothing compared to the lie that I myself was.
With work dealt with for the time being, I left the house and walked to the care home, a carrier bag full of books swinging from my arm. I was immediately greeted by Mick and Elsie, both of them sitting in the foyer coffee shop, their eyes lighting up when they spotted me. For at least a few hours I would be able to focus on them and forget all that waited for me at home.
Back in my flat that evening I had no clue what to do, how to deal with my tormentor. It was possible my computer had been hacked, but I would wait to see what happened next. My instincts screamed at me to ignore it all, surely whoever it was would give up eventually? But I was uneasy about doing this; someone had gone to a lot of trouble to dig up my past so I doubted they would give up easily.
Maria texted to ask if she could call and I welcomed the distraction. Hearing her news might take the edge off, and maybe she’d need help with something.
‘You poor thing,’ she said, when I answered. ‘It was weird you not being at work today, but sounds like you’ve caught something nasty. Where do you think you picked it up from? I don’t think anyone at work’s got it. Not yet anyway.’
I tried to make my voice sound weak, riddled with cold. Thankfully, Maria didn’t dwell on my illness too long, and in no time she was filling me in on work. I hadn’t missed much, but then what did I expect? It was rare that anything exciting
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