The One That Got Away (25 page)

‘I don’t get this,’ I look up at Bec. ‘Why would I need to know where I am when I’m already here? What’s it for?’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Dan when you get home. He’s the IT expert.’

‘It’s a free application that you can download,’ Dan says. ‘If you go on to … here … it’ll give you traffic updates … here
you can get directions … and there … you can add friends so you can see where they are. Say you wanted to see Joss on here.
You text or email her a link asking her to be your buddy. If she says yes, she pops up on this map too. You know where she
is and she knows where you are, unless you choose to withhold your location, in which case you can see her, but she can’t
see you.’

‘But I haven’t downloaded anything! You’re sure it doesn’t just come with the phone?’

He shakes his head. ‘You have to opt into this … give your permission to appear,’ he explains as I look at him blankly.

‘Maybe work added it and forgot to tell me,’ I suggest.

He doesn’t say anything.

‘Hang on though, you’re saying this map is showing someone else where I am?’ I frown.

He nods.

‘Does that mean I could be saying I was at a meeting and, if it was work, they’d be able to see if I was telling the truth
or not?’

‘If it was your work either they would have had to have installed it on your phone before they gave it to you, or someone
would have needed access to your mobile. Then they could have sent the link to your phone and agreed to it
for
you. Then the programme would just download.’

‘How long would that take to do?’

‘About five minutes.’

And that’s when the penny drops. Well, it doesn’t so much drop, it slices through the top of my head as if someone has deliberately
let go of it from the top of a tall building.

‘So whoever did this,’ I try to keep my hands steady, ‘knows that I’m in Brighton and they know what street we live on – and,’
I peer at the phone, ‘almost exactly
where
on the street we live?’

‘Yes.’

I hand it back to him quickly. ‘Delete it, please.’

He presses a few buttons. ‘It’s gone. What are you going to do about this?’ he looks at me worriedly. ‘Are you going to ring
one of your colleagues? Find out if they’ve got it on their phone too?’

‘I don’t think I should do anything rash,’ I take the phone back. ‘I don’t want to stir up some sort of storm, not the way
things are at work at the moment. I didn’t even know this sort of thing was possible.’

‘It’s not designed for snooping,’ Dan says. ‘It’s supposed to be a social networking thing, for fun.’

‘Fun?’ I exclaim incredulously. ‘It’s outrageous!’

‘Yeah,’ he says quietly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, they can’t see me now,’ and I turn the phone off quickly, before Leo realises I’ve vanished off his nasty little map,
and texts or calls.

My mind is still turning over furiously by the time Dan turns the lights off and murmurs drowsily ‘try and forget about it,
get some sleep. We’ll sort it in the morning.’

I just lie there piecing it all together as I listen to Dan’s breathing begin to slow restfully. Leo had plenty of time with
my mobile in that hotel room while I was passed out on the bed – and my laptop was in there too. I didn’t just bump into him
in the street in London, he’d known what street I’d be on. That time he just happened to ‘randomly’ be in Brighton – it must
have been because he knew I was there. He almost certainly
knows where I live
.

If it were a stranger doing this it’d be bad enough – worse maybe because it would be fear of the unknown – but that it’s
someone I once willingly shared a house with, slept with, kissed? Leo was always intense, but this? This is a different league
altogether … This is the kind of stuff you read about in the papers. Jealous ex-boyfriends flipping out. Trailing their unsuspecting
former partners … oh my God, this evening at that community hall … was it him I heard? Was he there?

He knows where we live.

He’s said he’s going to tell Dan.

I stare up at the ceiling, completely immobile with fear, in the dark of my own bedroom.

‘Moll, please,’ begs Joss. ‘Calm down. Take a deep breath.’

She waits as I try to do as I’m told.

‘Good girl. That’s better … and again, take another.’

I try to breathe out slowly, it just sounds jagged.

‘OK,’ she says. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to change your phone number …’

‘It’s too late! He doesn’t need to be able to text me or phone me any more, he can just
watch
me. I know that car I saw outside the house was him, Joss, I know it was. That message he sent me? The “you look nice” one?
He DID know what I looked like that day – he’s been following me! Oh God, this is fucked up. Really fucked up.’ I start to
gabble with panic. ‘I don’t know what to do! He could turn up at any moment. He could tell Dan. I don’t—’

‘He’s not going to do anything. This is going to be OK.’ She cuts across me, but I can hear it in her voice, she’s worried.
‘Moll, I think we should call the police, I mean, really, this is harassment, people can get arrested for that, can’t they?’

‘But what am I going to do when they ask me about my relationship with him? I’ll have to tell them I slept with him two weeks
ago – or he will. Either way Dan will find out! I’ve already been through this, Joss – all last night. There’s nothing I can
do! And he knows it!’

We fall silent. ‘What about telling Stuart – or Chris?’ she suggests hesitantly. ‘Getting them to … sort him out.’

I pause and think about that. Chris or Stuart walking up to Leo in an empty basement car park, like they do in films. My brothers;
my nice respectable law-abiding brothers, who I love more than anything. They’ve got children, for God’s sake. They’re fathers,
they have responsibilities. Suppose something were to go wrong? ‘No,’ I say instantly. ‘I’m not asking them to do that.’

‘Moll, I really, really want to help you,’ she says ‘but unless we tell someone …’

‘If he finds out, Dan will leave me,’ I say blankly. I can’t believe this is happening. All I really want is for Joss to reassure
me that of course Leo is not going to tell Dan, that I’m imagining all this, that I’m letting my mind run away with me.

‘Yeah,’ she admits quietly. ‘I know he will. Does he suspect anything at the moment, do you think?’

‘No – not at all. He’d ask me outright if he did. I know he would.’

‘You think?’ she says doubtfully. ‘I don’t suppose …’ She hesitates. ‘OK, you’re going to think
I’m
going mad now, but you have been very jumpy and well, not yourself – at least I don’t think so. There’s no chance DAN could
have put that tracker thing on your phone, is there?’

I know I’m prone to melodrama, and I also know that I have a habit of overreacting, not thinking things through, but I honestly
think that this might be what madness feels like. I don’t know what to think, or how to feel.

Dan just wouldn’t do that. OK, he
is
an IT expert, but so what? If he thought something might be going on that he was worried about, he’d just ask me. In fact
he did – he brought up those mails from Pearce! And who tracks their own wife? But then, as if it’s been lurking in a part
of my subconscious I wasn’t even aware of, just waiting, I remember him holding that condom and pin.

Joss did say I’d been jumpy. Dan knows me better than anyone, better probably than I know myself. Could he have picked up
on something? If it
is
Dan who has put that thing on my phone, that means Leo is – well, just bombarding me with texts and trying to get me to meet
him. That’s all. Unnerving, horrible even, but not a hanging offence … If, on the other hand, it
is
Leo’s work, then my husband is innocent, but my ex is actually stalking me.

I would laugh if this whole thing weren’t so completely deranged.

I simply don’t know what to do. Thankfully, I have no meetings today, so I’m able to stay in the house, behind double-locked
doors. I sit there all day, just staring at my computer screen unable to focus. Paralysed.

At half-past four my phone begins to ring. It’s Leo.

I ignore it, trying to keep my breathing steady, and it goes to voicemail. So much for my telling him I wouldn’t be responsible
for my actions, that really worked. It starts to ring again, straight away. I busy-tone him. Seconds later it starts up for
a third time.

Do not panic. It’s just a phone – that’s all. You’re perfectly safe.

Beep! A text arrives:

Pick up. Please. I know you’re there xxxxxxx

My eyes widen, and I glance at the window. The curtains are open and it’s dark outside. I rush to them, look up and down the
street – I can’t see any sign of him. I yank the curtains shut furiously.

Beep!

Molly? PICK UP xx

I can’t just ignore it and switch the phone off any more. What if that only provokes him?

It’s a snap reaction – desperate to buy myself some time, some space to try and work out what I am going to do – anything
– I text him back:

Let me think. Will call you on Monday. I promise

Beep!

OK. Monday. I love you xxxxx And happy birthday for tomorrow xxxx

‘Have a nice day then,’ the delivery man turns and heads back to his car, leaving me standing on the doorstep clutching an
enormous bunch of flowers.

‘Wow,’ Dan appears behind me. ‘Who are they from?’

‘I don’t know.’ I close the front door and start to search around for a card, my heart thumping as I see it nestled in amongst
the heavily scented roses. I slip it from the small envelope, and almost faint with relief when I realise they are from Abi,
Rose, Nula and Jacquie.

‘The London girls,’ I say to Dan.

‘That’s nice,’ he says. ‘Can I see?’

I pass it to him wordlessly. Is he checking up on me? Doesn’t he believe me? Oh shut up … he’s your
husband
.

‘Putting me to shame,’ he says easily.

I manage a weak smile and hasten off to put them in some water.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to go out and do a celebratory something?’ he asks for the millionth time, a few hours later
through a mouthful, comforting crappy Saturday night TV blaring away in the background as we eat fish and chips. ‘Wow, listen
to that rain!’ He lifts the edge of
the curtain incredulously and looks out into the dark. ‘It
is
nice being in like this, all cosy, but I feel really bad not taking you anywhere.’

‘Don’t,’ I wait for him to let the curtain drop back down again before relaxing slightly. ‘We’re seeing everyone for a birthday
lunch tomorrow, aren’t we?’

‘But didn’t you want to do something with friends as well as family?’

I shake my head. ‘Rose is due any day, and I left it too late for the others to sort babysitters. Anyway, I know it sounds
lame but I really would rather be in with you than out on a night like this, in some bar.’

‘We really are getting old, aren’t we?’ he gives me a rueful smile. ‘Joss and Bec could have come over though …’

‘Bec’s working and Joss is on a date,’ I reach for my glass of wine. ‘Second date in fact.’

‘Really?’ he says interestedly. ‘Well, well, well. By the way, did her in-house lawyer get back to you yesterday about that
tracking thing on your phone?’

I tense. Why the sudden interest? But then of course he’s interested, I’d be interested if he’d found that on his phone. I’d
be furious in fact.

‘Not yet. I’m going to monitor the situation.’ Which is what
he
usually says when he’s putting off dealing with something annoying in the hope it will magically sort itself out.

‘OK.’ He turns back to the TV. ‘Well if you think that’s the best thing to do.’

‘Let’s not talk shop on my birthday.’ I reach for my
glass again and drain the remainder in one. ‘Is that all the wine we’ve got?’ I eye the centimetre left in the bottle on the
floor by the sofa.

‘Yeah, I only bought one. Sorry.’

I really want another drink. I pick up the empty bottle and carry it back to the kitchen. Yanking the fridge door open I find
two cans of John Smith’s and Bec’s bottle of Moët.

Clutching the open bottle and two flutes I make my way back into the sitting room.

‘Haven’t you had enough, boozy Sue?’ Dan says lightly, but takes one nonetheless. ‘Happy birthday!’ he raises the glass to
me. ‘I hope this year brings you more than you could ever wish for.’

To be honest, I’d settle for getting to keep what I’ve already got.

When we arrive at Mum and Dad’s the following day, having ended up drinking most of the champagne the night before in a desperate
effort to relax, I’m feeling pretty crappy. Everyone is waiting for me in the kitchen and they all burst into a rousing rendition
of ‘Happy birthday!’ as I appear in the doorway; they’ve made a banner and there’s a home-made cake ablaze with an awful lot
of candles. Oscar and Lily are hovering very close to it, excitedly trying to resist the temptation to blow. There is a small
mound of carefully wrapped presents on the side next to a chilling bottle of Prosecco and gleaming glasses.

I cover my mouth with my hands, feeling my eyes become shiny as I take in their happy, loving faces. Dan appears behind me
and joins in the singing too, smiling proudly, the widest of all.

I’m overwhelmed by it all, seeing everyone I love so much all together, everything I could ever want all in one room …

They finish singing expectantly and wait for me to attend to the candles. How could I have risked any part of this? A tear
spills over. Mum and Dad frown, and I see Stu and Chris exchange a confused look. I flap my hands quickly. ‘Ignore me!’ I
smile through it. ‘I’m just being silly. These are happy tears – I promise. Let me blow this little lot out!’ I approach the
cake.

‘Shall I help you?’ Oscar offers generously. A slightly snotty, dribbly team effort means we get there in the end. Which is
somewhat of a relief all round.

‘Make a wish!’ calls Karen, who is sitting on Chris’s knee on the sofa. I immediately wish for everything to work out OK,
which is of course a totally wasted effort. Wishes have to be much more specific than that.