I’m probably being paranoid. Mum always said to trust my intuition, to not let fear of embarrassment stop me from running if—
Footsteps scrape behind me.
I bolt.
Fear surges, raw and blinding, propelling my feet forward. My breath saws in my throat as I tear down the pavement, the guitar slamming against my back as I run.
A pub sign glows ahead like a lifeline. I dart around the corner, stumble down a narrow flight of stone steps, and grab the brass handle—
Locked.
A paper sign stuck to the door reads:Closed for refurbishment.
“Shit,” I gasp, trying to muffle my panting. Why the hell is the sign still lit if it’s closed?
My chest heaves. This is a dead end.
Do I stay here in the murky light?
Or risk going back up to the street?
Indecision keeps me paralysed.
Half a minute later, a shape passes at the top of the steps.
I flinch, cold fear sliding down my spine—but it’s just a drunk man, weaving slightly as he watches something on his phone, face aglow from the screen held close to his face.
He doesn’t even glance my way.
Relief hits so hard my knees go weak, a ragged exhale leaving me.
I can’t stay here, but I’m too shaken to venture out.
I take out my phone and call Ellenor. As it rings, I wonder if it would be safe for her to come get me with her car.
She doesn’t pick up.
I wait a few minutes and try again. No dice.
I consider calling Rupert and Barbara, but I know they’d make a fuss, and it seems silly to inconvenience them unless I have to.
That leaves only one person.
I hover over Brandon’s name. I don’t want to sound like someone who needs rescuing. And I’m not looking forward to explaining where I’ve been, or who I’ve been with.
Lily-Anne:Hi, Brandon. Sorry, I know it’s late. Are you awake?
The phone rings almost immediately.
Relief washes over me when he picks up.
“Lily-Anne, is everything alright?”
“I’m fine,” I say too fast, my words ragged from panting. “I just…got a bit freaked out walking home.”
“What happened?” he asks in concern.
“It was nothing. I thought I was being followed, but it looks like it was just someone—”
