I brush a strand of hair away from my face and find my cheek is wet with tears I didn’t know I was crying. I stare at the moisture on my fingertips and wonder if this is it – have I lost it? Has this new violation nudged me over the edge? I’m rational and thorough. This person – this frantic crying woman – isn’t me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, dropping on to the bed. ‘I know this is affecting you too.’
‘You have nothing to apologize for. We’ll move soon. We can even rent somewhere while this place sells. It’ll be a stretch but we can do it. Once we’re out of town it’ll be harder for him to get to us.’
‘It won’t be far enough,’ I whisper.
‘What do you mean?’ Stuart’s eyes search mine and I know now is the time to tell him my plan.
‘There’s no point upheaving Beth and Archie’s entire lives to move ten miles away, only for him to find us again. And he will find us. He only has to follow us home once to know where we live. We have to change our whole lives, move far away and change our names.’
‘Our names? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?’
‘Just our surname.’
‘I’m not running away.’
‘There’s no other choice. We have to go somewhere he can’t find us. This won’t stop. He’s not going to wake up one day and forget about me.’
Stuart leans against the window ledge and sighs. ‘But the police will get him eventually. It’s frustrating as hell but—’
‘The conviction rate for stalking is tiny. And even if they find out who he is and arrest and charge him, thepercentage of those convictions that actually result in a prison sentence is even less.’
‘We’ve got a strong case. You’ve been keeping your diary and we’ve logged everything with the police. They’ll get him and he will go to prison.’
‘I’m scared all of the time.’ I choke back a sob. ‘And it’s getting worse. Has it crossed your mind what he might do next? To me and the kids? Moving far away—’
‘Running,’ Stuart cuts in.
‘It’s our only option.’
‘And then he wins.’
‘I don’t care,’ I say. ‘Let him win. If I can get my life back then someone can give him a gold medal for all I care.’
‘And what about my business? Am I supposed to just close it down? I started from scratch twenty years ago. I quoted my first jobs so low I made a loss for a year just to get my reputation up as a reliable builder. Twenty years it’s taken me to get to a point where people call me, asking if I’ll consider quoting them for an entire housing estate. My reputation isn’t going to follow me to another country. I’ll be starting from scratch. You can’t seriously be considering this?’
Fight or flight – as usual, Stuart is choosing neither. ‘It’s not you who has to deal with the fear I face every day. And don’t tell me it’s not affecting the kids, because it is. Archie is too scared to go into the toilets at school by himself. Now he’s been in our house, Stuart. What if he breaks in next time when the kids are here? What if he hurts them?’
‘I won’t let that happen.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ I cry out. ‘We have to get away. I can get a work visa anywhere in the world.We can move to Canada or Australia. Anywhere. It’ll be an adventure, a different way of life for us and the kids. It’s not like we’ve got family here holding us back,’ I add, thinking of Stuart’s parents who moved away from Westbury before the kids were born. They bought a cottage in a village in North Yorkshire close to Stuart’s elderly grandmother. We visit once a year in the summer holidays. Enduring five hours in the car each way for a three-day weekend. They’re nice people, but they find the kids too much, flinching at every thud of feet or shout. We invite them for Christmas and other visits but they never come. I can’t complain. My parents live an hour and a half away in South London and we don’t see them any more regularly. They’re both dermatologists with their own private clinic, and when they’re not seeing patients, they’re travelling to medical conferences all over the world. I’m closer to my brother, Nathan, than to either of my parents. But I see Nathan even less. He’s always on the other side of the world, working in places that need him most.
‘And what about the kids and what they want?’ Stuart asks.
‘They want a mother who isn’t terrified every second of the day. I don’t have all the answers, but I know I can’t carry on like this. Just think about it, please,’ I beg.
Stuart stares at me for a long second, taking in my tear-streaked face, the tremble of my lips, eyes hollow and wide. Whatever he sees, it must be enough, because his expression softens and he steps forward, pressing his hands into mine. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he says. ‘It’s late. We’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.’
Stuart joins me on the bed and kisses my neck until my body relaxes and I crave the distraction he offers.
Afterwards, I lie in Stuart’s arms and listen to hisslow steady breath. He’s asleep in minutes. I close my eyes and try counting backwards in threes from a hundred.
It doesn’t work.
I try to think of other things – the ribbon for Beth’s Father’s Day gift, Archie’s bee sting, our plans for the weekend – but my thoughts are a one-way train back to you. The exhaustion that has been a dark cloak over me all day has disappeared. I’m wide awake.
I’ve never been a great sleeper. All the studying and then years of night shifts have messed up my body clock. Though nothing has ever kept me awake as much as you have.
