And Just As Dangerous

Penny met Andrew Soakes on a Sunday afternoon. It was late May, and a sudden burst of high pressure had brought with it an extraordinary heatwave for the city of Cambridge. Sat on her lilac cardigan, soaking up the sun on the green just off the main street, with The Shining in hand, a young man approached her with his hands held out in front of him. At first, she giggled, before realising that he was genuine in his discomfort.

‘I – I’m sorry Miss, but have you – have you seen…have you seen a pair of glasses?’

Penny dropped the book by her knees and scrambled to her bare feet – her sandals had been on the grass beside her – and grabbed him by the forearm to aid his balance. ‘You poor thing,’ she said.

A quick scan of the grass proved fruitless. She turned him and pointed down at the spot on which she had been sitting. ‘Can you see my cardigan, and my book?’ she asked.

Andrew squinted and swayed his head from left to right. ‘Is it…purple?’ he replied.

Penny could feel his arm shaking beneath her grasp. A tremor of nervous energy shot through her own body; she had never been in a situation quite like this before, and with a male stranger no less.

What would her Maggie say?

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed, probably with too much excitement, ‘I mean, yes, my lilac cardie. If you can head over to that and sit there for a moment, I will have a look for your glasses.’

‘Thank you, thank you ever so much,’ Andrew said, and stepped over to the spot. Penny watched him get there safely and then turned to face the grass.

His was pale. Peaky. Dark brown hair, sticking up on his crown in a messy, cute scruff. Well dressed. Well spoken.

‘I’ll be back,’ Penny said. She smiled, even though she probably knew he could not see it.

Facing the direction from which he had been walking, Penny began her search. She looked up at an oak tree about ten metres away, but, deciding that he could not have walked that far unaided, she aimed to search until she hit the tree and then turn back.

After reaching the oak tree she turned on her heel. There he sat, on her cardigan. His head was down as he looked on at her.

Penny nodded to him, but he did not respond.

‘Poor guy,’ she whispered.

She started the slow walk back, all the while scanning the grass. Perhaps a dog took them, she thought. Or maybe a child picked them up and decided they would become a different person for the day.

How she wished she still had that pleasure.

When she made it back to Andrew, his eyes were vacant but frantic. They darted up in her direction as she approached. Penny felt a pang of heartache for his predicament. ‘Well, I am sorry, Sir,’ she sighed, ‘I can’t find them.’

Andrew pursed his lips and his shoulders dipped. He looked defeated.

‘Were you on your way home?’ Penny asked.

‘Yes, I was about to cycle back. I suppose I can –’

‘Nonsense!’ Penny shouted – which startled him – ‘I mean, you mustn’t. You’ll have an accident.’

Andrew looked at her torso. He continually blinked, as if that would improve his vision, which made Penny giggle a little. ‘Well, it’s settled then. My car is only round the corner. I will take you.’

She helped him up and together they walked, arms linked, across the green and towards the Northern end of the park, where a row of cars were parked, including her brown Chrysler Horizon. She helped him in the car and buckled his seatbelt. He had a look of surprise on his face, but she detected some fear. Penny had to admit she was also surprised in herself. This was very unlike her. But he was helpless. And fairly attractive.

‘You have really long eyelashes,’ she said. Forgetting herself, she leaned over to get a closer look, and her long straight hair fell into his lap. Andrew inhaled deeply. Whipping herself back from the car, she apologised for being forward. Shutting the passenger door, she cursed her clumsiness, made her way round to the driver’s side, climbed into her seat, and shut the door.

Tiny flakes of dust danced around the space between them in the glow of the afternoon sunlight.

Penny wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel. ‘So, where’s your bike?’

Andrew was silent for a moment.

She looked sideways at him. ‘You said you cycled here…’

He gasped and threw a hand to his mouth. ‘Oh!’ My bike! Yes of course. Apologies, I was in a bit of a daze.’

That was the first time Penny had considered Andrew’s integrity. In that moment, she had indeed asked herself the question. Without hesitation, she turned the key in the ignition and rolled the window down on the driver’s side for good measure.

‘So…’

Andrew turned to face her, but did not look directly at her. Again, he mashed his eyelids down and leaned forward, in an obvious attempt to see her more clearly.

‘Forgive me. You have been so kind. I was just so taken aback by your…kindness. My bike is locked up by the museum. It can stay there until tomorrow,’ he said, his voice as smooth as a spider’s silk.

And just as dangerous, Penny thought.

‘Well,’ she said, and slapped her hands on the wheel, ‘I suppose the only thing I can do then is drive you home. Where to?’

Andrew did not respond. Instead, he looked out through the windscreen. His stare was again, quite vacant. Penny imagined he must be in deep thought, as opposed to staring at anyone or anything in particular, given the loss of his glasses.

Or perhaps he just didn’t want her to know where he lived? Probably. She was a stranger after all.

‘Or…perhaps I can drop you on a street nearby?’

Again, Andrew was silent. The colour started to drain from his cheeks.

‘Of course, I could just bring you back to my flat?’ she said, the words leaving her mouth before her brain could think about any consequences. An unfortunate habit. She winced at the thought of inviting a stranger home, but he just looked so hopeless without his glasses or…well anything really. He had not been holding a bag or a wallet that she could see, and she didn’t just want to send him off to fend for himself. She would not sleep if she were to do that.

A sideways look confirmed he was still staring out the front window. His pursed lips then widened into a toothy smile. ‘Well, that’s very kind of you, Miss,’ he said.

The journey was quiet and uneventful. Not too many cars on the road, which Penny liked. She had passed her test a few months before and wasn’t the most confident driver. At one point, she narrowly missed a cyclist, and felt Andrew wince beside her.

She grimaced at the thought. ‘That was a close one,’ she said, and turned to smile at him.

He glanced in her direction, looking just past her. ‘Sorry?’ he asked, a frown emerging on his face.

Penny looked back at the road. ‘Oh, nothing,’ she laughed, ‘Just me imagining things as usual.’

When they reached her ground floor flat, she pulled into the layby. Her pink peonies by the front window were just starting to bloom, and the bees were beginning their dance around the lavender bushes either side of the door. Penny was not a fan of bees, but the fragrant aroma of the lavender wafting by as you entered the building was always a moment of loveliness.

She helped Andrew out of the car and walked him towards her front door. ‘Now my place is quite small, but big enough for two,’ – a shrill meow was heard around the back – ‘Oh and I have a cat. Boris. I suppose I should have mentioned that. You like cats I presume?’

Andrew opened his mouth to speak and then gave her a faint smile. ‘I…I don’t mind them,’ he managed.

Penny hesitated for a moment and wondered if this was the right thing to do. He was a stranger after all. What if he tried to rob her? Do people really do that? Surely not, she thought. So apparently now this handsome, perfectly nice man was a criminal who scours the parks of Cambridge, pretending to be blind, looking to trick a lone woman into bringing him home – just in case she has something valuable to steal?

She turned him away from the lavender bush, feigning an attempt to distract a hovering bee from his shoulder, and quickly lifted the small plant pot by the doormat to obtain the key, just for good measure. She couldn’t be too careful, even on the low-key Hampton Street, where the scariest incident in her two years of living there had been when the Carlton’s Jack Russell next door had escaped and chased Boris around the front lawn. Boris had been too quick, of course.

She guided Andrew through the front door and to the armchair in the living room.

He declined her offer of a cup of tea, so she made herself a decaffeinated coffee and settled opposite him on the two-seater settee. He did not speak, instead just looking out of the window at two collared doves on the fence dividing the gardens.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ Penny asked.

Andrew looked in her direction. ‘Oh. Yes of course. Well, I will make a call tomorrow morning and order another pair of glasses, if you will allow me to give this address?’

Penny felt a rush of sympathy for this poor man. First, he loses his glasses and then he finds himself in a stranger’s house explaining his actions. What a humdinger of a Sunday.

‘Erm, yes. Yes of course,’ She stuttered. Her father had always told her to avoid giving out her address. Paranoid, such was his way. Penny always thought that it was because he had bought her the flat in the first place. It embarrassed her, the family wealth. What on earth would her father think of her inviting a stranger into the house? Her cheeks flushed at the thought. Perhaps it will be a funny story later, if Andrew happened to be single and is that way inclined – she supposed she would find out when his new glasses arrived.

‘If you like, I can phone your wi – I mean, I can phone your partner or a friend to let them know you are okay?’

Andrew smiled. ‘No partner, and my family will only worry. It’s fine, really. I don’t see them often anyway,’ he mumbled, and looked down.

Penny nodded and returned to the kitchen, where she started to work on dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs; her favourite. Andrew seemed to like it. She felt it would be cruel to turn on the television, his vision being impaired, so she turned on the radio instead, and they both listened to Radio One. He accepted her offer of a glass of wine, and after half a glass he appeared to relax a little.

Penny did not expect him to be this talkative, after the bouts of silence in the car. To her surprise, he was quite revealing about himself; she learned that his name was Andrew Soakes, he lived with his brother with whom he had a troublesome relationship, his parents had died, his favourite food was rabbit pie (but chip shop fish and chips was a close second), and he was saving up for a car, hence the bicycle. She presumed it was the wine that had loosened his lips.

In return, Penny told him about herself.

*****

It was routine for Penny to wake in the night, whether it was a dash to the bathroom or a plod over to the kitchen for a glass of water, usually around three or four in the morning. But when her eyes opened that evening, and she turned to look at the alarm clock on her bedside table, she was surprised to see that it was only just past midnight.

She crawled out of bed and slipped her feet into her fluffy pink slippers.

A crash outside her window startled her and she fell onto the floor with a thud.

Rolling onto her back, she threw her hands to her temples in a panic – ‘What the hell?’ she gasped – and another crash, louder this time, erupted outside, followed by the harsh sound of rolling bottles.

Penny scrambled to her feet and hurried over to the window. The Carlton’s Jack Russell started to bark next door, which made her think, did Boris get out?

Peering through the side of the curtain, she gulped. Nothing ever happened on her street. Never.

And then a terrible thought invaded her mind.

She turned away from the window and looked at her bedroom door. Staring through the dark, she tip-toed across the cream carpet. To the right of the door, a pink vase filled with roses (which were just about the only birthday present from her father that she could tolerate) sat on the sideboard, and Penny made short work of emptying the flowers.

The bedroom door opened with a tiny creak, and armed with the vase, she stepped out into the hallway. To her left, the guest bedroom door was wide open, and she could clearly see the bed, covered in flat, ruffled sheets.

Flat, ruffled sheets.

The bed was empty.

A hot pool of acid rose from her stomach into her throat and an extraordinary pressure clamped around her ribcage like a hand squeezing a soft apple. She gripped the vase even tighter as it started to slip under her now sweaty palm, her elbows shaking under its weight.

‘Andrew?’ she called out into the hallway.

There was no response.

‘Andrew?’

Still, nothing.

With her chin, she flicked on the hallway light and stepped gingerly towards the bathroom, then onto the kitchen - both of which were empty – then the living room, all the while taking short steps. When she walked over the threshold, she gasped and dropped the vase, which smashed into what looked like a thousand pieces on the floor.

Andrew was stood to the side of the open living room window facing the front garden. The net curtains bellowed out behind him, and his arms were held out slightly, presumably trying to see where he was going, she thought, but it crossed her mind that he rather looked like he was telling her to stand back?

Despite it all, though, Penny was relieved it was Andrew. She threw her hand to her chest and exhaled dramatically. ‘Andrew,’ she gasped, ‘What – what were you –’

‘I just needed water.’

It was his tone of voice that stopped her. It was revealing. Nervous. She stood up straight and held her breath as a silence enveloped the space between them. Penny couldn’t think of a time in her life when silence had been quite that loud.

After a long period of eery mist, Penny stepped forward, glancing down momentarily to avoid any glass but looking back up straight away to monitor his response. At first, Andrew flinched at her movement. She brought her hands to her sides, to give him space, and then hopped across the floor to the kitchenette, where she filled a glass half full with water, and then tip-toed over to set it down near him on the sideboard.

‘If you would like to take a seat about two steps to your left, I can clear this up before we go back to bed,’ she said. Andrew did as Penny asked, and she proceeded to clear the carpet.

Not another word was said between them. Every now and then, Penny stole a glance at him, and noted three strange things; there was a cut by his right eye, his trousers had a small wet patch on his right knee, and his clasped hands looked bright red, as if they had suffered from sun burn.

Andrew’s eyes were fixed on the painting on the wall behind her, and for a moment Penny was sure he was examining the beauty in the detail of the brush strokes. It was a seascape, bought for her by her first boyfriend. A hot needle pierced through her throat at the thought of him.

Penny yearned for Keith’s presence in that moment. His character was such that he could enchant any room, and she was sure that he would have put her at ease the moment that she had heard the noise outside. She need only have remained tucked up in bed, until he returned and curled his arms around her waist.

A strange awareness of self-assurance crept into her mind. She had invited a stranger to stay at her home.

What if he was dangerous? Had she asked enough questions?

After clearing the last of the glass, she stiffened her back, and tightened her grip on the broom. If she needed to, she would smack him with the end with as much strength as her feeble arms could muster.

‘Well, I suppose it’s back to bed?’ she asked, trying to put on her ‘ray of sunshine’ face.

Andrew nodded and stood from the armchair. His hands outstretched; he stepped across the room gingerly. As he walked, Penny clamped her fingers around the broomstick. His gaze flickered from one object to another – she noted there was a final flick up to the painting – and he finally made his way to the spare bedroom. When the door clicked shut, Penny relaxed. She went to lay the broomstick against the doorframe, but decided against it, instead taking it back to her bedroom.

Just in case.

*****

‘So, he was just standing in the living room, in the middle of the night?’ Maggie asked. Her green eyes were wide and incredulous, and it reminded Penny of the day they first met, when she had tripped while clambering over some seats and dropped her strawberry milkshake on Maggie’s head. The look on her face, splattered with pink ice cream, had been priceless. ‘I don’t know, Pen, he sounds a bit creepy to me,' she said, and stamped the invoice as PAID in deep red ink.

Penny looked down at the mountain of paper on her desk and sighed.

Maggie set the stamp down and pushed the remaining paperwork into her ‘in tray’. She turned to Penny, uncrossed her legs and rolled her chair from one desk to the other. ‘Do you want me to come over tonight and stay with you, until the creep has gone?’ she whispered, a wry smile forming on her red lips. Her thick, curly hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun. Maggie didn’t have to try to be beautiful, and it was Infuriating.

‘Don’t call him that!’

‘Well, he is a bit weird isn’t he,’ Maggie continued, ‘look, I’ll bring a bottle of red, we can have dinner, and I can scope him out a little bit.’

Penny pursed her lips and looked over at the office clock. 3pm. The thought of returning to the house after work, as the light was beginning to fade, to a stranger, made her feel a little sick.

Looking back at her friend, she nodded quickly.

A grin spread across Maggie’s face, and she returned to her station, her pink heels stuck out in front of her as she rolled. ‘Great. But don’t you dare get drunk and cry about how much you miss Keith. The bastard. You are a million times better off without his smug little face in your life,’ she stated with satisfaction, and pulled the tray towards her, starting to stamp invoices and slide them across the desk.

A hot injection of pain shot through the back of Penny’s head when she said his name.

She had never been able to tell Maggie the truth about what had happened between her and Keith. In the end, she had settled with an easy lie. Keith was far from the cheating scoundrel Penny had painted him to have been.

But that was a secret that Penny would take to her grave.

After driving them home, Maggie opened the passenger door and made a beeline for the house the second they had parked up (leaving the shopping bag and two bottles of Merlot for Penny to lug inside) and Penny didn’t even try to stop her. She was like a puppy about to be given its first chew toy; such was her excitement to meet Andrew. She had her own key, of course, so by the time Penny made it past the threshold, Maggie was already standing over Andrew as he sat in the armchair.

‘So, are you fully blind?’ Maggie asked with an obvious mock curiosity.

‘Mags!’ Penny gasped, ‘why would you –’

Andrew waved a hand to stop Penny from talking, in the way that one of her father’s old, wealthy friends would wave away their wife. It took her off guard, as this was not the Andrew from yesterday. It said a lot about his upbringing, she thought. He must come from money, and if not, he has been influenced by someone who desperately needs a stern talking to about respect.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ he said, his tone patronising, ‘she can ask.’

Penny dropped the bag at her feet and frowned at him, aware that he could not see her expression but glad for that happy accident, as it were. She had escaped with a few strange looks over the last twenty-four hours.

Staring past Maggie at the ceiling, he continued. ‘I am partially blind, so I can see some things but not with focus. So, I can see a blur of your body, but I cannot see the detail.’

Maggie appeared to muse over this for a moment. ‘So, you can see my legs and arms and face, but you cannot see what type of shoes I am wearing or whether I am smiling at you or not?’

‘Exactly,’ Andrew nodded.

She nodded, and, seemingly happy with this explanation, snatched the bottle of wine from Penny’s hand and plucked three glasses from the sideboard.

‘No thank you,’ Andrew said.

Maggie slowly turned her head to face him. ‘Erm, how did you…’

I heard the wine swishing in the bottle when you took it from Penny. Then I saw you walk over to the cabinet, and I heard the clinking of glassware. I assume you are about to pour a drink?’

Maggie raised an eyebrow at Penny. ‘You’re like a little spy, aren’t you?’ she smiled.

‘Not at all. The contrary actually. I feel like I am in hiding, most of the time. Hidden behind glasses and then out of focus without them. My other senses are just heightened due to my lack of sight.’ Andrew shifted in his chair and wiped his hands together, visibly uncomfortable. This was relaxing to Penny, as it felt as though she had the upper hand. There were two of them, and one of him.

‘Does this mean that if I make two cups of tea, one PG Tips and one Yorkshire, and stuck them under your nose, you’d be able to tell which one was which?’ Maggie asked, followed by a small giggle.

Penny shot a look at her.

‘What? He said I could ask questions!’ Maggie exclaimed in return.

Andrew bellowed out a laugh, which was a first in the short time Penny had known him. She found herself becoming a little jealous of the interaction between Maggie and Andrew. He seemed much more forthcoming with her, as if he was more comfortable in her presence. Yet he did seem a little anxious. Maybe he just liked her more? The idea did not sit well at the back of Penny’s mind, and she did not want to explore it further. She had not known Andrew for long, but she did feel a certain attachment to him. He was her guest, after all.

‘Well, I might be able to if I did drink tea and had consumed enough of both brands to be able to tell the difference, but I am afraid I do not, and therefore will not be able to confirm that to be true.’

Penny picked up the shopping bag and walked past both her friend and her – well whatever Andrew was – and into the kitchenette, where she popped the bag on the counter and unloaded the box of chicken kievs, bag of potatoes, broccoli and ice cream. From instinct, she flicked the kettle on.

‘Ignore that, you have a wine here, love,’ Maggie said from behind her.

Penny turned and snorted. She was annoyed, and Maggie would be aware of this, probably from the moment she had left the living room. But she also knew that Maggie knew this was temporary and would melt away the second she could make her friend laugh.

‘You were right. So I poured you an extra big glass,’ she said, extending the hand holding what was a near full large glass of red wine.

Penny could not resist her friend’s playful attitude; the sparkle in her green eyes was infectious, and within seconds she relaxed into her presence, knowing that a night of fun and games was afoot. She reached out to accept the glass when Maggie pulled it quickly back to her own chest.

‘Promise you will not cry about Casanova Keith when you are drunk,’ she said, and turned her ear.

Penny giggled. ‘I won’t,’ Penny promised, and took her poison.

It was all she could do not to cry every minute she was awake over Keith’s absence, and from her experience she knew that the wine would actually help cloud the memories that cropped up all too often of the life they had shared.

She took a sip from the goblet and let the rich liquid slip down her throat, warming her chest with the majestic relief that only came out of a wine bottle. She started to feel the muscles around her breastbone relaxing and she took a deep breath.

‘I know,’ Maggie sighed, and leaned against the sink. Her glass looked half empty already.

Penny leaned over. ‘So, why am I right?’ she whispered.

Maggie gulped another slug of wine, ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘well he most definitely is a creep,’ she nodded.

‘But that’s what you said at work?’

‘Oh, I know, but you didn’t want to admit it fully. I could tell you were suspicious, which of course made me suspicious, but I couldn’t be sure until I saw him. But now I have, and I can confirm. Creep.’

Penny swallowed a little wine-flavoured vomit. Maggie spoke so matter-of-factly, like it was just one of life’s problems that could be dealt with. As a woman though, Penny supposed, one does have to deal with many a creep from time to time. It was worrying.

‘So?’ Penny whispered, ‘what shall I do?’

‘You know he can probably hear you right, heightened senses and all?’ Maggie returned, poking her left temple with her free hand. She guided Penny to the back door and mouthed to her: ‘CALM DOWN. HE WILL BE GONE TOMORROW. I AM HERE AND IT IS GOING TO BE FINE.’

Maggie started an exaggerated nodding, and when Penny started to return it, Maggie smiled and tipped the edge of Penny’s wine glass towards her lips.

Penny drank.

*****

An elbow to her side stirred her body. Penny blinked as her bedroom window came into focus. A beam of light shone through a wide gap in the drapes, and she swallowed. Her head was throbbing and her throat was dry.

A cold shiver shot down her spine. She leaned over and shook her head at her friend, who was cocooned in the entire duvet, with only her right elbow sticking out, aimed at Penny.

The mother hen in her rose to the surface.

Coffee and painkillers, she thought. She rolled out of bed, and tip-toed to the door. Her fingers hovering over the handle, she paused as she remembered Andrew could be up already. She plucked her pink and white striped woollen dressing gown and threw it over her just in case. Between her and Maggie, she would just walk around in her t-shirt and knickers, but not with Andrew around, of course. She pigeon-stepped from the bedroom to the kitchen as quickly and as silently as she could, surveying the condition of the living room as she went. Door shut, windows closed, lights off and no leftover food on the coffee table. They had done well, all things considered. She smiled with fondness as she remembered a morning after Maggie had stayed where she walked into a goose on her settee. A goose! Dickens knows how that had gotten there. Getting it out had been another thing entirely. Keith, wearing nothing but his blue Calvin Kleins, had tried for over an hour to usher it out of the door, Penny laughing in the background. He did not complain once, but had managed it in the end, of course. Nothing could beat Keith.

She stared in the silent memory for a moment and held her hand over her aching heart, before snapping her fingers. Mother hen, she thought.

Turning into the kitchen, she stopped at the cupboard above the sink, popped two painkillers in her mouth and glugged a pint of cold water. She boiled the kettle and delved into the corner cupboard for the strong stuff: Italian dark roasted. The coffee she reserved for the mornings after she had suffered from a poor night’s sleep (or had just hosted a night with Maggie). As the corner of the kitchen filled with a steam, and the kettle clicked off to confirm it had boiled, it hit her.

The small hand on the clock above the oven was pointed to the number eleven.

She darted out of the kitchen and into the spare bedroom, making no attempt to knock on the door before opening it. The bed was freshly made, and there was a folded piece of paper on the pillow.

Glasses arrived.

Thank you for your hospitality. Really got out of a sticky situation there.

I am leaving town, today, so you will not see me again. At least for a long while, anyway.

Tell your friend I said goodbye. You owe a lot to her.

A.S.

Penny tucked the note into her pocket and made her way back to the kitchen. She made the coffee and placed both cups along with the pint of water and box of tablets on a tea tray.

Wanting nothing more than to slap and shake Maggie, she gently rubbed her hair until she opened her eyes. ‘Good morning,’ she said, and gestured to the tea tray on her left with a mother’s pride.

Maggie peeled the duvet down from her neck and shuffled to sit up against the headboard. She blinked a few times and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. ‘You are an angel,’ she sighed, her voice hoarse from dehydration. Penny let her devour the glass of water and sip her coffee before the desire to show her the note became too intense to bear. She ripped the note from her pocket and shoved it under her friend’s nose.

‘He’s gone,’ Penny exclaimed, excited for his absence but a little concerned by the message, ‘well. He’s gone and he’s written a weird note.’

Maggie laughed as her eyes flickered over the handwriting. ‘Well, you do owe me a lot for my brilliance! What a creep. Well, at least he’s made like a tree now,’ she said happily, and threw the note in the air.

Penny watched as the paper floated to rest on the carpet. Beside it, a small shard of glass sparkled in the morning sunshine. She slid from the bed, pressed her finger onto it and held it up in the air. Perhaps a piece of the broken vase had been walked into the bedroom? Surely not, she thought. She was meticulous in her cleaning of the carpet, going over it twice in fact with the broom, dustpan and then the brush and hoover the following day. She examined it more closely. It was much too thin to be part of the crystal vase.

‘Probably from the broken window,’ Maggie murmured from behind her.

Penny whipped her head around. ‘What broken window?’ she asked.

‘There was broken glass outside near the bins. I went out last night to put the bottles in the bin, and stepped on a pile of broken glass. The window in your outhouse is broken.’

Penny looked at her friend in disbelief.

‘I’m not surprised you don’t remember, you were completely done for, Pen,’ Maggie giggled, ‘I was too scared to look in there, just in case a bird was going to fly at me or something, so you said to leave it for the morning, as you wanted to dance. I must have walked the glass in as we came to bed. How we danced!’ she remembered, laughing louder this time, wincing at her throbbing temples.

After their headaches had eased somewhat and the Italian dark roasted magic beans had replenished their senses, they both dressed and checked the outhouse.

And Penny was left wishing that they hadn’t.

A dead body.

The sight of it changes things. Blonde matted hair, blotted at the ends in deep red, as if it had been dip-dyed in blood. A swollen, bloated belly, poking out between a pink crop top and high-waisted jeans. Pale, ghostly skin, as thin as tracing paper, covered in what could have been hundreds of purple bruises. One arm twisted away from the body with a sharp bone protruding from the wrist. A pair of ocean-blue eyes, wide and shocked, and a gaping mouth with faded smudges of red lipstick around the edges of pale blue lips.

Images that were imprinted on the grey walls of the brain, locked in her memories forevermore.

Maggie screamed and turned immediately to the right, where she vomited into one of the lavender bushes. She fell to her knees, coughing, and vomited again.

Penny did not scream, or vomit. She did not cry for help. She did not hold a hand to her mouth or even take a step back to retreat from the horror.

Penny took a step forward.

There was a trainer on the dusty floor and another on the paving slab behind her. She inhaled a sickly, sweet waft of cold air that burned her nostrils, making her heave in disgust.

She dipped her head to bring her body through the door, but hesitated.

She was standing in a crime scene.

*****

A photo of Andrew.

It was unmistakeable. Andrew’s dark eyes. Andrew’s brown hair, tousled in a messy nest on top of his head. Andrew’s adorably long eyelashes.

Officer Daniels shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. ‘Has the Penny dropped then?’ he said.

She looked up at him, tears brimming over her lashes.

‘Excuse the pun,’ he added, albeit a little pleased with himself.

Penny looked back down at the picture and ran a finger across Andrew’s face. The photo was smooth, just like his voice had been on that first day. She really had just been a fly, caught in his silky web.

‘You’re lucky to be alive. I have it noted here that a ring is the only item missing?’

Penny nodded. Two tears dropped onto the sides of Andrew’s smiling face. Her engagement ring from Keith.

‘I want to ask you whether you have seen any of these people, and whether Andrew mentioned any of their names to you,’ he continued. With his forefinger he slid another photograph across the counter to her. It was of a young woman, with long straight dark hair, dark eyes and a friendly face. She was sat in a garden chair holding an empty wine glass. ‘This is Kelly.’

Penny shook her head.

Officer Daniels pushed another photo across to her. Another young woman, with a pixie haircut and large, bushy eyebrows. Her smile seemed forced, as if she was embarrassed. ‘Angela,’ he said.

Penny shook her head once more.

Three more photos were shown to her, all young women, with either very long or very short hair. Louise. Sandra. Alison.

Penny shook her head to all of them, having neither seen, nor heard of any of these women.

The thought that she had nothing to offer made her feel sick.

She rubbed her palms together and rested them on her knees. The air was cold at the police station. She had been assured that there was no air conditioning, and no windows were open, so she figured it was just the general aura of the place. Everything was grey and blue. Cold.

A blob of warm vomit rested at the back of her throat.

She flicked the photo of Andrew over and looked up at Officer Daniels, whose eyes widened with interest. ‘Um, he wrote me a note,’ she murmured, her voice hoarse and shaky.

She gripped the very edge of the folded note from the pocket of her denim jacket and dropped it on the table, as if it were cursed. Officer Daniels picked it up easily and read the contents. His eyes narrowed and he leaned over to show it to his colleague, who took the note and studied it closely for a moment.

Penny squeaked, another tear rolling down her cheek.

Officer Daniels clasped his hands together on the table. ‘Penny, I’ll be honest with you. I think if you had not brought your friend home with you last night, then…well I don’t want to say it. I also think he is long gone by now. He would have anticipated you finding the body. Probably wanted you to find it. We now have every police officer on the force looking for this man. I think the last place he will visit is your house.’

Penny nodded and wiped her cheek.

‘I would however consider alternative lodgings, even if just temporarily, so that you feel safer. We can assign a police officer to guard your house, but only for so long.’

Penny swallowed. ‘I’ll stay with Maggie.’

*****

Penny was expecting to be called back to the police station when Andrew was eventually found. But the day never came. Andrew Soakes was never found. In the months after his disappearance, she moved in with Maggie, both too terrified to be on their own. For years, she suffered with nightmares, not just of reminiscent snapshots of the dead body, but of the fear that he might come back for her. She remained closeted in her own little world. In the nineties, at an obligatory family Christmas do at Auntie Marion’s house, she had met Simon, her future husband. Simon healed Penny, especially in the early years. But his presence was like a plaster over a hole. Her love for him was real, but he could never really do anything to help her loosen the shackles of guilt and shame that had been locked around her soul for so long.

As the years flew by, Penny would frequent the very same park in which she had first met Andrew. A bench had now been erected close by to the spot where he had stumbled over to her, in memory of one of the university professors. She liked to sit there and watch the students walk by, full of laughter and hope for the future, like she had once been.

Her box fringe fluttered in the cool breeze. A Cocker Spaniel chased a pigeon into flight and proceeded to run around in circles with delight. Penny wondered if Boris could have outrun that one, back in the day. Her heart ached for him now and his shrill (but sweet) morning cries for attention.

To her right, a figure approached, holding a small square box. An elderly man, not much older than her, wearing blue braces over a pale striped shirt, and brown loafers. He gestured to the empty spot beside her. Penny nodded, shifted her weight and looked the other way. A pair of toddlers wearing Mario and Luigi outfits were chasing an older child in the sunshine.

‘How long has it been then, Penny. Fifty years?’

The mellow sound of his deep voice pierced her middle like a sharp knife straight through the stomach. Her hand flew to her chest, and she whipped her head around to look at him.

His hair was now grey and thinning, and he had some rather large spots on his forehead, although he was exceptionally tanned. Despite the time that had passed, it took her no time at all to recognise him. The long eyelashes. It was Andrew.

With his right hand, he held out a small box.

An intense fear caught Penny by the throat. She held out a shaky hand and pointed at his face. ‘It’s you. It’s y-’

‘Yes, Penny. It is me.’

She glanced around and started to raise her hand, but Andrew stood and grabbed her forearm. His grip was firm. ‘If I were you, I would not make a scene. I would sit down. I would shut up. I would take the box,’ he snarled through gritted teeth.

Penny sat and settled her gaze. Focusing on her breathing, she counted; three seconds in, hold it for three, three seconds out. Just as her therapist had taught her.

Andrew brushed a leaf from the bench and placed the box in the space between them. ‘I am not going to hurt you, Penny. If I wanted to do that, I would have done it, and a long time ago. I have thought about it, of course. After I left your flat, I travelled up North and spent some time there. Then, I went to Scotland, Ireland, and to the States. That was the most fun. You know, they really can’t catch you if you move quickly from state to state. Of course, that became harder after the Millennium.’ His tone was lighter now, and he spoke matter-of-factly, like he was in a job interview, going through his career to date. He scratched his nose and paused, looking out across the green at a group of four women, sunbathing on the grass.

And just like that, Penny was back in her old Chrysler, her hands planted on the wheel, Andrew staring out through the windscreen beside her. How she wished now that she had thrown him out of her car there and then. Maybe even driven straight over him.

‘I was older then,’ he continued, ‘and I knew I had to slow down. So, I travelled Europe for a while, and settled in Portugal. Have you ever been to Portugal Penny?’

He looked at her expectantly and she jolted her head from side to side.

A cackle of laughter erupted, and Andrew turned his head to look back at the women.

‘Oh, you really should go Penny. The Algarve is just gorgeous. Perfect for a spell at our time of life. But even the sunny beaches of Portugal did not seem to satisfy me. I had this burning desire to come back to England.’

Penny gulped. Andrew Soakes. Here, in the flesh, sat next to her on a park bench. She wondered if she was in a lucid dream.

‘I visited England often. Looking for that something, without really knowing what that something was. And then I found it.’

He turned to face her.

‘I found you.’

Penny allowed her weight to sink back into the armrest, away from him. Anxiety bubbled and she started to take sharp, short breaths, as if her lungs were slowly filling with water.

Andrew shifted closer to her and placed his left hand on her shoulder, under which Penny shivered. ‘I saw you, at the supermarket of all places. You were holding the hand of a tall man. Tell me, was he American?’

How she longed for Simon now. She opened her lips, but the words would not come, and settled for another shaky head movement, this time a nod.

‘Ah. I thought so. A good-looking man Penny, you have done well for yourself.’ He slid his hand from her shoulder and her muscles relaxed in relief. ‘I watched you for a while, waiting for a moment that I could come and talk to you, but he was always there. Protecting you. So, I went back to Portugal and the sunshine. But then the dreams started. Dreams of you. I came back, of course. I found you, and I watched. The young woman, I presume your daughter? She seemed very nice. I bumped into her at the market one day and we had a nice chat.’

Penny shuddered and held her breath. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead.

‘And I have worked out what it is now. You were the one that got away. Or the one I decided to leave, I can’t figure out which. Either way, I think you helped me. You showed me that there is some mercy within myself. So, I have decided to reward you,’ he said, gesturing down to the box. ‘The ring I stole from your flat on the day we met. I meant to sell it to pay for the journey up North but, a lovely young redhead stopped and gave me a ride,’ he purred, and looked up at the sky as if lost in thought - Penny begged him silently not to elaborate on that journey - ‘but I was spare you those details. Anyway, take it. It is yours, after all.’

As he stood and turned away from her, Penny felt a hot burning in her throat. ‘Fuck you,’ she spat, ‘Fuck you and your twisted mind. Burn. Burn in hell,’ she growled.

‘You don’t mean that,’ Andrew said, as cool as fresh lemonade on hot summer’s day. He did not turn to face her, but instead walked away.

Penny buried the box in her small black handbag and pulled out her phone. She dialled her daughter’s number and told her that she’d had a funny turn and needed picking up, and within ten minutes, she was in an air-conditioned Land Rover, on her way home.

The next time Penny would see Andrew Soakes would be a week later, when his photograph flashed on her television screen. He had suffered a heart attack in a pub on the Norfolk coast, and when police were going through his personal effects, they had found a notebook of names. He was gone at last, and Penny’s night terrors died along with him.

She had decided not to tell her daughter about Andrew. She would only worry, and she didn’t need any more of that; she was already an accountant.

But she did tell Simon. He was buried on the North Cornwall coast. In the second year of their relationship, they had taken a road trip across the Southern coast of Devon, across to Land’s End, and then through Northern Cornwall and Devon before back to busy Cambridge. They had adored the dizzying blue skies and fluffy white clouds of a Cornish summer so much that they bought a holiday home down there in their forties, which later became their permanent home, as they often do.

Sat on the bench overlooking his grave, she smiled.

‘I can sleep now, Si,’ she said. In her mind’s eye she could see him, sitting beside her, his warm, beautiful hand placed on her knee.

‘That’s my girl,’ she heard him say, from somewhere in the distance.