Running around like a blue-arse fly was doing nothing for Charlie’s pre-exam nerves as she threw everything she needed into her uni bag. Her phone alarm just had to pick today to throw a wobbly and now she was leaving fifteen minutes late. Throwing the silk scarf her mum had given her as a going-away present around her neck, she grabbed her coat off the hook in the hall and did a one-eighty by the front door of her flat, scanning every surface to make sure there was nothing else she needed. Then she took a moment to gather her breath, and out she went into the hallway, pulling her front door closed behind her—
There he was.
The new guy who had moved into the flat down the hall was coming out of his door. He closed it behind him and walked away in the same direction she was just about to head, a leather jacket under his arm and a motorbike helmet in his hand. Going into work, no doubt. It was a guess of course. Charlie had never spoken to the guy; she’d never actually seen him either. Not properly anyway. Yesterday was the first time she’d seen any part of him that wasn’t hidden under clothing. Thanks to the navy blue hoodie he always wore, she had no idea what he looked like under the hood that was always pulled over his head while he kept his face down. But he was tall and his hoodie was tight enough to see that his shoulders were wide. He looked like he kept himself in shape. Thrown off by seeing him, Charlie paused for a moment, pretending she was looking for something in her bag as she let the stranger get a little further ahead.
And then he did something she hadn’t seen him do before: he slowed a little and lifted his head for a second, as though he’d sensed she was behind him. Then it was back to his regularly scheduled programming, head lowering again as he disappeared through the door that led to the stairwell.
Now Charlie sped up. She was inappropriately desperate to get a glimpse of the guy’s face. Well, he was her neighbour. Didn’t she have a right to know who she lived by? His evasive behaviour only piqued her curiosity all the more. Not to the point of obsession though. She wasn’t that kind of woman. At least that’s what she tried to convince herself as she rushed towards the door to the stairs.
A door opened to her left and she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that was how she engaged her super power of invisibility. If only. As expected, Mrs. Hughes from number four called out her name.
“Oh, Charlotte. You’re up and out early today.”
Bloody hell. Charlie being Charlie, she was too polite not to stop and say hello to the cheerful old lady with the light blue plastic curlers in her hair.
“Hi, Mrs. Hughes. I have an exam this morning. Sorry, I can’t stop. I—”
“I have some apples from my daughter’s garden for you. Hold on and I’ll get them.”
The small lady with the grey hair and oversized glasses disappeared back inside before Charlie could protest. Shit.
Pulling out her phone from the front zip in her bag, she scrolled through to the Uber app, annoyed with herself for being so polite. Only, it wasn’t so much from having to get alternative transport into uni—he’d evaded her again.
Charlie couldn’t help wondering why the guy was so shifty. Why he always had that hood up. Maybe he was just really shy. Or maybe his face was badly scarred or something. Suddenly the Phantom popped into her head with his white mask. She shook it out just as quickly. Her name wasn’t Cara. This was her friend’s kind of thinking; always the one with the wild imagination.
Maybe it was because she’d thought of nothing else other than statistics and data for so long, that she’d become so intent on discovering the identity of the man down the hall. Maybe she just needed to get out more. Whatever. As Charlie stood waiting for Mrs. Hughes, she knew she wasn’t going to rest until she’d seen his face.
Mission on.
* * *
“How much longer do I have to see that look on your face for?”
Cara paused in the motion of taking a drink from her glass. “What look?”
“You know damn well what look. I can easily walk out that door and get a taxi home.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop now.” The smug smile on her friend’s face suggested otherwise. “Just as soon as you thank me for forcing your hand.”
Had the choice really been Charlie’s? The nine missed calls and four answer-phone messages begging her to go out had finally driven her mad to the point of agreeing just so she could give her phone’s battery a rest.
So now they were sitting at a tall table to the side of the stage at The Gifted Crow, a pub just off campus that she didn’t go to all that often, which was crazy really; she’d always liked the warm, friendly atmosphere of the contemporary, gastro-style pub. She loved the decor mostly. In the main part of the pub, the wood and brick was homely and inviting. Where they were now—in the large open room at the back that had the stage for the performers—was more music oriented. The décor was mostly grey and white with rustic wooden beams across the black ceiling. She loved the black and white images of British recording artists that covered the walls in large black frames. Their open mic nights on a Thursday night were legendary. There were even some rumours that a few famous artists had started their careers off playing here.
Truth was, it was probably the most relaxed Charlie had felt in months, so she stepped up, giving her friend what she wanted. “Fine. I’m glad you forced me to come out tonight.”
Cara nudged her arm. “See. It wasn’t hard was it?”
Charlie rolled her eyes. The woman was relentless when she wanted to be, but it was one of the reasons why they were such good friends. Their personalities were complete opposites of each other. Cara, with her wild, black curly hair and brown skin that always seemed to glow, was a firework in a dark, dreary alleyway—an explosion of personality and colour that lit up the space around her. Whereas Charlie was happy to melt into the shadows to watch from afar, happy for no one to notice her. The perfect pairing, even though, after they’d first met, it had taken a little time for Charlie to get used to the woman and her persistent ways. She had a feeling her first year at uni would have been far different had Cara not claimed her as a best friend pretty much from the off.
And she knew about Charlie’s past—her reason for leaving Warrington.
Why then, had Charlie not mentioned the missed call from Dale?
“So, the new guy. Have you seen him yet?”
It had been a regular topic of interest since Charlie had mentioned he’d moved in down the hall. But she had as much information for Cara as she’d had the last time her friend had asked. “I know he has brown hair. Other than that, still only the back of him.”
Cara’s eyebrow rose. “And?”
“And what?”
“How does he look from the back? Did you check out his arse?”
“Cara! No. For all we know he’s an old man.” Not likely with those wide shoulders.
Her friend laughed. “I’d have still looked.”
“Well, I’m not you.” Then Charlie smiled. “I’m pretty sure he isn’t an old man though. The way he holds himself, the way he walks, he looks strong.”
Leaning in, Cara rested her chin on her upturned hand. “I’m listening.”
“Looks like he maybe works out. I don’t know. I can just tell he isn’t an oldie. But I think maybe he’s lying low or something.”
Her friend’s perfectly shaped eyebrows dipped. “Yeah. Actually, you’re probably best not knowing, Char. He could be an ex con. Or maybe some kind of weirdo or psycho.” Charlie could see the cogs turning as her friend took a sip of her drink, then her brown eyes widened. “What if he’s running from the police? He could be hiding some dark secret.
“Cara!”
“I’m just saying if he’s that shifty, best staying away.”
And now she was thinking the same thing. “Thanks a lot Cara. You certainly know how to ruin—”
The audience ignited into whistles and applause, cutting her off as the MC, aka the manager of the pub, took to the stage and welcomed everyone as he always liked to do. He introduced the first act, a trio: drummer, singer guitarist, and bassist. It wasn’t Charlie’s kind of music, but the singer had a pleasant voice so they settled back, no point in trying to talk over the volume, enjoying the folk style songs.
A little later, during the solo male singer with an acoustic, Charlie was hiding her yawns. At least she thought she was.
“Hey! Looks like someone could do with another drink,” Cara said as she slid off her stool.
“No. I’m fine. It’s the drink that’s making me sleepy.” And the fact she wasn’t sleeping properly because of her stupid ex.
“What? I can’t hear you.” Pointing to her ear, Cara walked away, and ten minutes later was back with another round, raspberry cider for Charlie and vodka and coke for herself, accompanied by a tray of shots.
“No, Cara. I am not doing shots with you.” She looked at the tray. There were eight. “Seriously? Were you afraid they were going to sell out or something? I’ll be on my arse drinking that lot.”
“Only two are for you.” And just as she said it, Jason and Selena joined them, bringing two more stools over.
“Hi!” Selena said as she sat down opposite Cara. Jas’s recent girlfriend was all smiles and politeness with her neat chin-length, blonde bob, and her skinny jeans and blazer. It was a surprise because Jas usually went for the loud, skirts-up-to-their-arses, I-love-myself-far-too-much kind of women. His dark hair and good looks always seemed to attract dolly birds with no personalities. Cara and Jas were already friends when Charlie met them. And the three of them were now pretty close. This was the first time she’d seen Jas in an actual relationship, and even though Charlie barely knew Selena she liked her, and was glad he’d finally got his head out of his arse and tried staying for once.
“Hey Char,” he said as he sat down and passed the shots around, two each, one was green and the other. . . well, it didn’t look very inviting. That was the one Jas held up. “This one first. Right. After three.” He held up his little glass.
“Wait. What is it?” Charlie had played this guessing game before and the outcome was never good. She eyed the cloudy red liquid suspiciously.
“Why spoil the fun?” he said with a cheeky smile, and then started his countdown. “One. . .”
Ah well. Charlie threw hers back along with everyone else. Then she coughed. And coughed again. “Shit. . . Jas!” Reaching for her cider, she chugged some down to calm the fire on her tongue and in the back of her throat. Thankfully, she wasn’t the only one coughing. They all did, but she was definitely coming off the worst.
“Shit. I asked for the milder version,” Jas said, laughing and coughing at the same time.
Why did she do it? She knew never to trust him.
Cara was the first to get over the hit. “Eew, Jas. What the hell was in that?”
“It was a Hot Shot: Tequila and Tabasco with a squeeze of lime. It was supposed to be the mild one.” He laughed again. “Lucky I chose that over the hot.”
“Yeah, thanks, Jas.” Cara was still panting a little. “We’re all indebted to you for only setting our tongues half on fire.”
The next band started up and Cara soon forgot her fiery mouth when she started to wolf whistle as loud as she could. The band was pretty rocky and Charlie didn’t know how much longer she could stay—too loud for her delicate ears. Her studies were so hard she wasn’t used to the nights out anymore.
They did the same with the next shot, only this time it was quite pleasant tasting, like watermelon with a hint of lime. It was that one that started to make Charlie’s head tingle a little.
“How’d your exam go this morning?” Jas asked, leaning in so he could talk by her ear. Soon after they’d become friends, Charlie had nearly had a thing with Jason. They’d kissed once, but she hadn’t felt right about it. She couldn’t deny he was boyfriend material, just not for her. Charlie liked his friendship too much and they’d talked and agreed to keep things as they were. Ever since then he acted more like a protective brother.
“Okay, I think. It was harder than I thought it would be, but I think I did enough.”
“I know you did enough, Char. No one has put more into this second year than you.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” That’s because she’d needed the distraction more this year for some reason. Cara had called her a hermit God knows how many times because all she did was study. And Charlie did feel bad for not being as present as she should have been and missing the parties and festivals.
A vibration on her lap alerted her to her phone ringing. She reached into her small handbag and when she saw the time and the unknown number, she frowned. Who would be calling her at eleven at night?
“You okay?”
Glancing up at Jas, his brown eyes full of concern, she slid down from her stool. “Yeah,” waving her phone, “just going to answer this.”
Heading through the crowd, by the time she got outside the call had stopped. Looking at the number, she was contemplating calling back when it started to ring again. This time she answered straight away. “Hello?”
The line was quiet for a minute and then. . .
“Charlie?”
The hand shaking was so instant she almost dropped the phone. But somehow Charlie managed to keep hold of it and hang up as quickly as she could. There was no mistaking the voice on the other end. She hadn’t heard it for a long time and it still made her feel the same as it always did, regressing her back to a time she’d tried to forget. Heart racing, she was shaking inside. What the hell? He’d called on another number. There was a heavy dread in the pit of her stomach and she quickly did the same thing as last time, blocking the number. Staring down at the screen, Charlie felt instant panic rising. A cold sweat washed over her entire body.
Shit.
Breathe, Char.
But she couldn’t. No matter how hard she tried, the panic was going nowhere. Why was this happening now? Finally, she’d started to move on—no longer looking over her shoulder, or worried every time there was a knock on her flat door.
“Are you okay, Miss?”
One of the doormen came into view and she straightened, feigning a smile. “Uh, yes I’m fine. Thanks.” Putting her phone back in her bag, she rushed back inside. The night was well and truly over for her now. Glancing over her shoulder, she got a creeping sensation like icy fingers crawling up her spine. God, she was right back where she’d started: imagining him watching her from the shadows, thinking he’d followed her hundreds of miles.
Struggling to hold it together through the crush of bodies that had now filled every inch of the pub, the music getting louder the closer she got to the stage, the sensory overload almost taking her to her knees, Charlie finally made it to the table where her friends were enjoying the band with more drinks in front of them. Cara was wolf whistling again, and when Charlie pulled on her arm she turned around, the smile instantly disappearing from her face.
Clearly, Charlie hadn’t done very well pulling herself together in the time it took to return to them.
“What’s wrong?” Nothing ever got past her.
Her tone prompted Jas and Selina to look over too.
Taking a breath, she did her best to right the mood. “Oh, nothing. Was just going to tell you I’m leaving. I’ve got a headache and I really need my bed.”
“Oh no, Char. You sure?” The fact that Cara didn’t press confirmed her friend’s sixth sense had kicked in. She knew there was something wrong, Charlie could see it in her eyes, but wouldn’t say in front of the others. “How are you getting home?”
“I’ll get a taxi. I’m going to order it and wait outside.”
Jas leaned in and said something in Selina’s ear and his girlfriend nodded. “I’ll drop you back.”
“Oh no, Jas. You stay and enjoy the bands. I’m really okay getting an Uber. Besides, are you even okay to drive?”
He picked up his glass. “I’m on coke now. Only had one and a shot. And I know you’re capable of getting a taxi, but you don’t need to.” Like he’d made her mind up for her, Jas got up and put his jacket on. “It’ll save you waiting and I don’t charge. Why argue?”
“You sure?” She looked over at Selena who gave her a sweet smile.
“We have plenty of drinks,” she said.
When Charlie looked at Cara, she had that I’ll-phone-you-when-I-get-home-so-you-can-tell-me-exactly-what’s-going-on look on her face. She gave her friend a quick hug, knowing it was a conversation she could no longer avoid. “See you tomorrow,” she said, trying to put her off.
“Speak to you in a bit.”
No point in arguing; she was going to call anyway. Nodding, Charlie left as quickly as she could, relieved that she was getting a lift with Jas and not having to look over her shoulder while she waited for a taxi. Also on the plus side, Jas wouldn’t pry.
Thankful to be back, after Jas had waited for her to get safely in the building, Charlie stood at the bottom of the stairs while she tried to catch her breath. This was ridiculous. She’d been away from her hometown for two and half years, had settled in Hatfield quite quickly and felt comfortable. How could he have this effect on her from so far away and after all this time? Not only was Charlie all discombobulated at the sudden disruption of the normal life she’d finally started to live, but she was also angry at herself for letting him rattle her. She was supposed to be made of sterner stuff now. It seemed all that what doesn’t kill you crap was just that: crap, because apparently it hadn’t made her stronger. She only felt that way because she’d run away from the threat instead of facing it head on.
There had been no other choice though.
Marching up the stairs to her floor, Charlie was still shaking as she fumbled for her keys. She’d also drunk more than she’d planned, which wasn’t helping her nerves. Perhaps she’ll feel differently in the morning without the fuzzy head. She pushed through the door to her floor and headed down the hall. It took her a moment to realise she could hear music coming from New Guy’s flat and she slowed her steps as she approached. It was acoustic music, softly played, chilled, accompanying a low, rich singing voice. She’d never heard the song before, but it wasn’t as if she listened to much music nowadays. All she did was study, and music had always been a distraction when she was trying to concentrate so she never put any on.
That song, though, sultry and yet melancholy—the voice, rich and husky—something about it resonated deep within her. Mesmerised, Charlie wanted to pitch-up right there on the floor outside the man’s door and just listen.
But no. . . Her feet started moving when she realised she was acting weird outside someone else’s flat. Imagine if New Guy opened the door and there she stood in some dreamy haze.
It was the shots. She knew it was a mistake drinking them after the bottles of cider. She wasn’t used to it at all anymore.
Time for bed. If she could get to sleep, that is. Dale was firmly in the forefront of her mind and she knew it was going to disrupt the sleep she needed. When she got into her flat, she put the chain on the door and left the lamp on in the hall before heading straight to bed, reassuring herself he couldn’t get to her anymore. She was away from it all. Her life was much better now.
It would all feel better in the morning.