There’s something so light about Rachel – an air of bubbly perfection that adds to my own feelings of exhaustion.
We fall into silence; the only noise is the flapping of my flip-flops on the pavement. Rachel is waiting for me to say more, but I’m not sure how to start.
‘My gym is just up here,’ she says, pointing to a shiny glass structure on the corner of the main road that leads into town. I’m running out of time.
‘I wanted to speak to you because …’ I swallow, wishing there was an easy way to explain this. ‘I’ve found some photos of you.’
She stops dead and spins towards me so fast that for a second it seems like she’s going to grab me. ‘What? Where?’ She pulls off her sunglasses and stares at me with alarm.
‘On my stalker’s phone. Do you know a man named Matthew Dover?’ I say before I lose my nerve.
She narrows her eyes, her lips pinching together before she shakes her head. ‘No.’
‘For almost a year he’s been stalking me.’
‘I’m so sorry. A few of the mums were talking about it in the playground a while ago. What you’ve been through is horrendous.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply, gritting my teeth against the feeling of annoyance now pulsing through me. The teachers know about you, so does Christie, and whoever else Stuart’s told. I shouldn’t be surprised parents are talking about me.
‘But what’s this got to do with photos of me?’
‘Matthew Dover is in hospital. I was able to lookthrough his phone and I found dozens of photos of me and you.’ The words spill out in a rush. ‘Are you sure you don’t know him? I’ve got a photo of him.’
I dig in my bag and pull out my phone. ‘Here.’
Rachel leans closer. She starts to shake her head before she even looks at you. ‘Never seen him,’ she says, slipping her sunglasses back on, but not before I see something flicker in her eyes. Was it recognition? Panic?
‘Are you sure?’
‘One hundred per cent. Does that mean he’s following me too, then? Am I in danger?’
‘He’s in hospital. He can’t get to us.’
‘That’s a relief.’ She presses her hand to her forehead before smoothing out the top of her already perfect ponytail.
‘You should still go to the police and report the harassment, though. It will strengthen our case against him if you do. There’ll be more chance he’ll go to prison.’
‘But I haven’t been harassed, have I? You’re telling me about some photos some guy has on his phone of me, but that’s all I know about it. No offence, Jenna, but they’ll laugh me out of the police station.’
She’s right, I realize, swallowing down the emotion threatening to burst out. But I can’t just walk away from this. There’s something not quite right about Rachel’s reaction. ‘If you’re worried about saying something, if he’s threatened you—’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She laughs, but it’s not the same pally humour I’ve heard before.
Rachel starts to walk again. Slowly at first, then her pace picks up. ‘Maybe you’ve got me mixed up with someone else?’
‘I don’t think so. Have you had any strange cardsthrough your letterbox? Or anything weird left for you on your doorstep?’
Just for a second Rachel’s feet stall. Then she’s off again. ‘No, nothing.’
‘He can’t hurt you,’ I call after her as I hurry to catch up, wondering if she’s listened to a word I’ve said. ‘He was hit by a bus. He can’t hurt you. You don’t need to pretend.’ My throat feels tight. I’m not sure which one of us I’m trying to convince.
‘I would know if I was being stalked, right?’
I think of the fear, the spider on my back. ‘I did, but—’
‘And the first I’ve heard about it is from you. So it’s much more likely that you’re wrong, not me.’
Rachel reaches the gym and pulls open the door, releasing a gush of cool air.
