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As Freddie continues to prattle on, I keep looking around us to check there’s definitely no sign of Alex’s Range Rover. The good news is that so far, he doesn’t appear to be following us, but I still keep my wits about me as I can’t afford to get complacent.
Once we get home safely, I double-check I’ve securely locked the front door and then discreetly check all the windows in every room are closed. I then spend the next couple of hours trying to behave as normally as I can for the sake of Freddie and my mother as I can’t afford to arouse suspicion. Protecting them from danger is my number one priority, and I’ll be damned if I allow them to get involved in this horrible mess.
At one point, as I stand in the kitchen stirring a steaming hot pan of mince in Ragu sauce, I ponder whether to call the police. Under normal circumstances, of course it would be the sane and sensible thing to do. I could tell them I suspect Alex is stalking me and tell them to investigate his whereabouts at the time of the fire at Georgina’s house.
But then I would have to explain the circumstances under which we met. I would need to tell them that I have been working as an escort, that I sold sex for money (which I’m not entirely sure is legal) and the fact that I’ve accepted large sums of cash from Alex would only complicate matters. Plus, his family are rich—who are the police going to believe—the man who lives in a multi-million-pound mansion or the call girl from the council estate?
Worst of all, there’s the possibility that Cynthia could find out everything, and goodness knows what that would do to her, especially as her health is so fragile. If she finds out the truth, she might even refuse to take the money and end up jeopardising everything I’ve worked so hard for. No, I decide, I can’t involve the police. I’m in too deep and it’s far too risky. Oh, sod it! WhatamI going to do? This is like an endless nightmare.
Then it happens. Sometime around seven pm, the house phone rings and after a briefly cordial exchange, my mum tells me that a man from Storm Models wants to speak to me. I freeze. The ground drops out from under me. No, no, no!What am I going to do?
Forcing a smile, I take the phone and cord from her and carry it into my bedroom to ensure I have complete privacy. Then, taking a deep, fortifying breath, I put the receiver to my ear.
“Hello?”
“I’m parked around the corner from your flats,” Alex purrs, his voice as sweet as chocolate. “Come down so we can talk.”
“Oh my God, what are you doing near my house?”
“I’ve been missing you like crazy. I need to see your face. Now please come down.”
I blow air through my cheeks. “Why can’t we just talk on the phone? Now is really not a good time for me to leave the house.”
“Now, my beauty, I’ll say this just once. Come downstairs to see me, or do you want me to knock on your front door and introduce myself to your family?”
My blood runs cold as I picture Cynthia’s reaction to seeing Alex Kingswood on her doorstep. She’d probably have a heart attack.
“Okay, fine, you win,” I snap. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be right down.”
“Good girl. I’m parked on the corner of Bedford Terrace. See you soon.”
Heart thumping, I put the phone down and return it to the hall. I wait a minute or two before poking my head into the living room, where Cynthia is reading aRupert Bearannual with Freddie.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, everything’s great,” I lie. “The agency just phoned to tell me about another job they want me to do next week.”
“That’s wonderful, Jess. It sounds as if you’re in high demand.”
“Yes, so it would seem.” I swallow painfully. Freddie is staring at me with big, round eyes and I wonder what he’s thinking. Probably knows his sister is lying through her teeth…
“Listen,” I say, “I’m just going to pop to the shops to get some more butter. I think we’ve run out.”
“Have we?” my mum frowns. “Can you get some more washing-up liquid while you’re there? We’re running low on that too.”
“Sure, no worries. Okay, see you guys soon. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Springing into action, I throw on my leather jacket and head out of the estate in the direction of Bedford Terrace, my limbs heavy with apprehension. I need this rendezvous with Alex like I need a bullet in the head, but what choice do I have? There’s no way I want my family to see him and my secret be revealed. The potential fallout simply doesn’t bear thinking about.
Five minutes later, I’m on Bedford Terrace and very quickly see a black Range Rover with tinted windows parked behind a white transit van. The windows are so dark it’s impossible to see inside the vehicle, which is probably for the best. I don’t want any of my neighbours snooping.
Nervously, I walk up to the passenger side, open the door and get in. As soon as I sit down, I’m hit by an uncontrollable wave of fear. Dressed in a long, black hooded cloaked, Alex is ten times more frightening in the flesh than I remembered. Somehow, seeing him again, in surroundings that are so familiar to me, makes everything a thousand times worse. It’s like the bogeyman has stepped out from a nightmare into my reality and is now running riot over my comfort zone.
For what seems forever, Alex’s demonic gaze burns into me, setting my skin on fire with its intensity. Weak with nerves, I keep my eyes fixed on the dashboard, not knowing what to say or where to look. Then finally, he breaks the ice.
“So, what’s the news on your Mum? Do you know her travel dates?”
