I stood at the window for a long time. I heard the soft roar of a car in the distance and the wind as it rattled the panes, but there was no other sound. There were no lights on in the houses and flats nearby. All was quiet.
Chilled and nervous, I went back toward my bedroom. To reach it I had to walk past the stairs down to the little hallway and automatically I glanced down, flashing the torch on my phone. When I saw the white envelope lying on the mat just inside the front door, I froze.
Stealthily I crept down the stairs and picked up the envelope then ran back upstairs as though someone was after me. My heart pounding, I switched on the lamp in my bedroom and opened the envelope.
Inside was another card, the same size as the first. It was a photo of me sitting at my window at night. The curtains were drawn back, the window open, and I could be clearly seen at my table, typing something on my laptop. It looked as though the room was lit by candlelight. There was no date stamp on the photo. I tried to think when it was taken, but I couldn’t see what I was wearing. It could have been any night. Slowly I turned over the card and read the message.
Still thinking of you.
I hardly slept for the rest of that night. My mind was racing with all the things that had happened. Who had invited me to the interview? That was obviously a hoax, but why would anyone do that? They had nothing to gain from it. That escort site had terrified me and now photos had been put through my front door in the middle of the night. It was horrible to think of myself sitting there, feeling vulnerable and alone, probably looking online for somewhere to live, a place where I could be safe, while someone stood outside, taking a photo that they knew would frighten me.
I couldn’t cope with this on my own. I needed help. I almost called Tom a dozen times, my finger hovering over the Call button, wanting him to rescue me. I knew that he’d come to fetch me, drive me home, and I’d be back in my old life. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Sarah was the only person I could think of. I wondered what she’d say if she knew Tom had told me he loved me, that he missed me. I thought she’d tell me to go back, to count myself lucky he knew nothing of Harry. And then I wondered: Had he talked to her? Her contact details were in our address book at home. Had he told her he wanted me to come back? Had she told him where I lived?
She would be awake at seven, but I couldn’t contact her that early. She’d be running around, too busy to reply. And I should get going, too; I had to be at work at nine. I got to work early and sat in my car until I knew she’d be at her desk. I sent her a message:
Have you spoken to Tom since I left home?
She replied immediately. No, I’m not the one who goes after married men
I ignored this barb. I had too much to think about. I thought of the photos I’d had with their cryptic messages, the phone calls, those disgusting men who didn’t even know me who thought I’d have sex with them for money. My phone number was on that site; who had put it there?
I’d been followed home from the wine bar. I knew I had. At times I’d wondered whether I’d imagined it, but that was just wishful thinking. I knew someone had been following me. That silver car had driven past three times round and had stopped just yards from me. I’d known that if the driver had got out, I’d be in serious trouble. I hadn’t taken it personally, though, until I saw the same car driving up and down my road later that night. After I’d run away from it I hadn’t seen it again until I was in my flat. Nobody had followed me there. I felt a surge of panic. I hadn’t thought of that before. They knew where I lived.
I swallowed my pride and called Sarah, but she didn’t answer. I sent her a message:
Something weird has happened. Someone put a photo of me through my front door in the middle of the night. They must have been watching me.
There was no reply for a while and I sat in my car watching my colleagues go into the building. They stared at me and I waved, but got no response. Just before nine, when I was about to go in to work, she replied. I could tell she was exasperated with me:
Honestly, Ruby, every time I speak to you, you tell me something weird has happened. First it was the phone calls, then the mysterious interview, then someone following you, and now this.
Energized, I replied: I know! And that’s the second time I’ve been sent a photo! Who could have done it?
She didn’t reply for an hour. I was frantically typing my way through the office’s workload when her message finally came through:
Oh for God’s sake. I always think that if someone’s going through too much drama, it’s down to them. Something to think about?
My face was hot when I read that. And then I remembered I hadn’t even told her about the half-empty mug of coffee. I was glad I hadn’t then.
CHAPTER 54
Ruby
I started to become quite withdrawn. Sarah’s messages had upset me and made me realize that if she didn’t understand, nobody would. I hardly said a word at work, just saying “Good morning” and “Good night” to people who didn’t respond. When I got home at night I did nothing, just sat on the sofa, watching movies on my laptop, trying to figure out how I’d got into this mess and how I could get out of it.
The pull toward Tom was becoming stronger. When I was at my worst ebb on Wednesday night—I hadn’t spoken to anyone for two days by then—he sent me a message.
Hey, Ruby, are you watching The Bridge? It’s rerunning on BBC. I’m watching it on my own and missing you—it was always great to talk through the plot together. You always saw things I didn’t notice! Hope work’s going well x
Quickly I switched off The Bridge; I had been watching it on my laptop. I realized that Tom didn’t know where I was working, didn’t know I’d lost my job. I’d been careful not to say anything about it to Josh, and Tom hadn’t asked about work since I left.
Another message came through. Tom again.
Oh and have you started to read The Goldfinch? Why did we never read that at the time? I’m reading it now, hope you like it x
I didn’t answer him. I was worried I’d call him and tell him I missed him. I did miss him. I missed the comfort and security of my home. I missed having someone to talk to. Someone to watch television with and go out with occasionally. And all those times he wasn’t nice to me, well, I thought he was stressed. I’d often wondered whether he was suffering from depression. I knew he’d wanted another child. He found living apart from Josh very tough. Whenever Josh called round unexpectedly, Tom would be so happy, as though he was whole again. Now he was living completely alone and I guessed he’d find that really hard. But then the other night he looked great. He seemed happy to talk to me. He was like his old self, the man I’d fallen in love with.
* * *