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Chapter One – Chalk Hearts
Concealer and a brave face. The two magic ingredients that always kept scars at bay. Amy twisted the box in her hands, reading the words as they caught the sunlight. Buildable coverage with 24-hour staying power. She touched a fingertip to her jaw and coated a blemish until it was camouflaged.
As the sliding doors parted for the hundredth time, she could hardly look up to see whose movement had opened them. From where she had parked in the layby, the flipflops and tanned legs of women in shorts flickered across the wingmirror and trolleys clattered into the realms of the unknown.
It would only be a quick dash inside. Just a handful of items to whizz through the checkout and then she would go straight home, knowing she had finally done something normal again.
She counted to five and swivelled from the driving seat, feeling naked as the pavement scorched through her sandals. Approaching from the side, she peered beyond the closed glass where a flower display and newspaper rack partially masked her from view. The aisle ahead was clear, leading all the way to a deli counter where no customers lurked.
A clumsy lunge at the stack of baskets sent the doors shooting backwards with a bang and an elderly man nodded to let her in ahead of him. She edged over to the crates, tasting the scent of ripe fruit as she panted it through her lungs, wishing that the leafy layers of salad would stretch out to obscure her face.
‘You’re in for a shock.’
The low voice made her freeze.
‘Imagine how it feels to be grabbed around the throat until you choke.’
Amy turned to leave and knocked a jar to the floor, amazed that it hadn’t smashed to pieces. She bent down to pick it up, her eyes dragging over the back of a toned body, tightly clothed in gym gear, and a young child sucking an ice pop.
‘A bit of spice doesn’t scare me,’ replied the woman as she stabbed a square of cheese with a skewer.
‘That’s what they all say at first.’ The assistant grinned from behind the stand. ‘But the chilli in this recipe is a long, slow burn. Once you’re in its clutches, you’ll never escape!’
The little boy gazed up at Amy and stuck out a blue tongue. Tossing the jar in her basket, she took off towards the bakery.
She grabbed something from a shelf without reading the packaging. Teacakes of some sort, with raisins speckling through. They squished under her knuckles at the footsteps passing by. The rustling in the bread stacks and the distant thumping of freezer doors.
Shuffling around the corner, she came to the far end, losing focus as the drinks blurred in a giant wall of plastic. A bottle fell into her modest nest of shopping. The water she would soon be swilling around her dry mouth.
Checkouts beeped. She ducked into the self-service queue behind someone buying a paddling pool and eyed the bodies passing by as the box blocked out their faces. Crop tops. Carrier bags. Phones in hands. She watched every pair of feet leaving the tills and stepping back out into the freedom beyond the exit.
A green light flashed at the next free space and she kept her head down, packing the food like lightning and tapping desperately at the screen, imagining that all eyes were burning through her.
‘Please scan your PlusPoints card,’ demanded a voice from the machine.
But she had done that at the start. Quickly grappling with her purse, she pulled out the card and waved the code at the scanner. An error message dimmed out the payment method icons and the pulsing light of doom crept into the corner of her eye.
‘Be with you in a minute, love…’ called the attendant, who was busily unpacking an entire bag of a neighbouring customer’s shopping.
She felt all attention on her. Heard the impatient sighs huffing through the queue. Frozen on the spot, there was nothing she could do but wait.
Then a phone rang out from across the store. An unmistakable drone of the Dread Head theme tune. The old horror film he had made her watch time and time again in their early days of dating. He had set it as a ringtone months ago, laughing whenever someone called. Stomach-churning… blood-curdling… the noise grew louder as the phone was retrieved from a pocket.
She eyed the kiosk, fighting for breath at the side view of a familiar yet stubbled jawline. Hand raised with the phone to his ear and a glint of white teeth as he spoke.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting!’ The attendant marched over and tapped in a code to correct the error before cancelling the transaction. ‘Not working, I’m afraid. Just pop over there and I’ll put it all through for you again.’
The woman gestured in the direction of the kiosk and Amy felt the room swaying. The noise of the supermarket whooshed past her ears and she reached out to grab the nearest surface.
‘No worries, I’ll just… I’ll just leave it thank you.’
‘Not feeling well?’ The attendant frowned and rushed to the loudspeaker. ‘Let’s get you some help.’
As the call for First Aid sailed out around the store, Amy paced backwards before sprinting past the photobooth and straight out of the door. Battling the sweltering street, she dodged her way through pedestrians and dogs on leads, hazard cones, and pushchair wheels until she was back at her car.
Wheezing, she locked herself inside and waited behind the shield of her sunglasses until she felt calm enough to drive. The supermarket doors were restless in the mirror, every so often spitting more people out. Refusing to focus on any one of them, she skidded away from the layby and plunged through the traffic lights just as they turned red.
Sweat and teardrops stung her cheeks as she left Popplewell High Street, following a trove of spiky evergreens and rooftops that shone saffron in the sunlight. The lush soil played host to a myriad of colour, with flowers hoisted high above their peaty roots and copiously plump crops swelling from every vine and vegetable plot. As always, the sky seemed perpetually blue and the stream bubbled away in the breeze as it wafted through her window.
Arriving at Larkspur View, she turned into the lane of neatly thatched dwellings and parked outside a cottage clad in a fudgy coating of stone. A narrow path led her through a lawn garnished with forget-me-nots and mottled sprays of cowslip.
She stepped shakily inside and made her way through to the kitchen where her housemate, Colin, was unpacking bags and filling the cupboards with food.
‘Thank goodness for that, I was getting worried about you, darling!’
Amy said nothing and sank into a chair.
‘And I see that you’ve already had breakfast.’ He nodded at the plate of toast crumbs that was still on the table from earlier. ‘I’d made a fresh batch of Dewberry Drizzle for your porridge.’
‘I just wanted to try something crunchy… you know, to see if it still hurt.’
‘So, does it?’
‘Not as much as it did, I suppose.’
‘Well, that’s progress, right?’
His beam disappeared. There was a visible tremble as she dabbed away more tears.
‘Darling, what’s wrong?’ Colin sprung over to the table and lifted her face into his hands. ‘Whatever has happened?’
‘I was in Freshway and… I saw him, Col.’
‘Oh, God.’ He pressed her head to his chest and his voice vibrated in her ear. ‘What the hell did he do? Did he see you?’
‘I don’t think so,’ she mumbled into the tea towel that was hanging over his shoulder. ‘I left straight away.’
A relieved sigh heaved through him.
‘Well, at least that’s something.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘But darling, it’s too soon. You shouldn’t be out on your own.’
‘I was only in there for a minute.’ Amy pulled away slightly, releasing the strands of hair that were sticking to her cheeks. ‘I just thought if I could manage that then… then I wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore.’
Colin used the tea towel to wipe around her eyes.
‘Shhhh… I know, sweetheart, I know. Of course, you won’t feel like this forever, but it’s going to take time.’
‘No…’ she wailed. ‘He’ll always be here. Every time I set foot out of that door, he’ll be wherever I turn.’
‘Darling… please listen to me. You’re going to heal, inside and out, and eventually all your fears will melt away. And you know you’ve always got us.’ He squeezed her shoulders. ‘Yes?’
Amy glanced out of the window, trying not to blink. Apart from the distant birdsong and a butterfly on the ivy, all was still. Her eyes trailed across the lichen-laced birdbath to the foxgloves flocking beyond the fishpond. Living in picturesque Popplewell was the only thing keeping her going.
‘Come on…’ He lifted her chin. ‘What can I do to make it better?’
‘Nothing, really.’ She shrugged him off softly. ‘I’ll be OK.’
Colin caught sight of the furrowed margarine. ‘Is toast all you’ve had?’
Amy nodded solemnly.
‘You need something more substantial, now you can eat comfortably again.’ He got up and rummaged through the shopping. ‘What will it be? Eggs Benedict… Omelette… Croque Monsieur?’
‘I’m really not hungry.’
‘Well, perhaps you will be after a nice, relaxing bath. Why don’t you go and have a good soak for a while? Then come back down and I’ll rustle you up some lunch.’
‘I suppose so,’ Amy agreed reluctantly and pushed her chair under the table. ‘See you in a bit then.’
She headed into the hallway and started to climb the stairs.
‘Before I forget…’ Colin passed her a padded envelope. ‘Postman Pat couldn’t be arsed to knock so he dumped it at the gate instead.’
The parcel felt thick but easy to bend. Turning it over as she went upstairs, she recognised her father’s handwriting. He always sent her letters by post whenever his emails weren’t working.
Amy put the envelope down on the bed and picked up her wash bag. She closed the bathroom door and her reflection was unavoidable. Her ash-blonde hair spilled flatly onto her shoulders and her blue eyes sat like sapphires in her pale, milky skin. She touched the faded scratches on her jawline. Four weeks had passed since the attack and the bruises were evaporating to yellow on her flesh, yet still a wave of coldness swooped over her. She swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Then she filled the bath with lavender-scented water and allowed her thoughts to puff away into the gentle clouds of steam.
Lying back in the foamy haven, she felt the bubbles swirling between her toes, knowing inside that she had to get away. That no matter what anyone else said, or how much time went by, Nathan would always be there, breathing down her neck.
In the weeks since her night of terror, she had begun the daunting search for another job, but nothing seemed to match what she already had as a teacher at the quaint village school. She had been first to move into the Larkspur View cottage, which she now shared with Colin Cleaves, a bookshop manager, and Rosie Willis, a hotel receptionist. The three had stuck together through thick and thin, and the thought of leaving them filled her with sadness.
After well over an hour, Amy emerged invigorated and headed back downstairs in comfy clothes, at least feeling hungry enough for one of Colin’s blueberry muffins. Rosie was at the kitchen table, sipping a foamy cappuccino as Colin stood over her expectantly.
‘Amazing,’ she purred. ‘What have you put in it?’
‘That’ll be the cinnamon syrup. A symphony on the tastebuds.’
‘Well, you’ve converted me. I thought I hated cinnamon.’ She took another slurp and looked up as Amy entered the hallway. ‘I’ve just heard. Thank God you came straight home, babe.’
‘I’ve filled her in.’ Colin winked. ‘She’s been frantic.’
‘You should have rung me!’ Rosie embraced her anxiously. ‘I was only down the road at the dentist.’
Amy shook her head. ‘I drove off there and then… just wanted to get away.’
‘Scum of the earth.’ Rosie glared. ‘What was he even doing in there?’
‘No doubt contaminating the aisles with his presence,’ replied Colin, shooting a look of disgust. ‘Anyway, you need to stay put for now, sweetheart. No going out except straight to work and back.’
‘Unless she’s with us.’
Colin frowned at Rosie’s response.
‘It’s not safe, dearest. You never know what that creep is going to do.’
‘Oh, stop it, Colin. She’ll turn into a nervous wreck.’ Rosie’s hazel eyes reached out to Amy’s. ‘Now, I know you’re upset. I know you’re… hurt, but you can’t let this stop you having a life.’
‘I thought I was ready.’ Amy shrugged helplessly. ‘Then look what happened. I can’t even be in the same room as him.’
‘Which is why you’re not doing it alone,’ urged Rosie. ‘But if you stay locked inside forever, you’re letting him win. Why should you hide away at home while he’s allowed to cruise around as if nothing’s happened?’
‘We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you’d just go to the police,’ said Colin. ‘There’s still time, you know.’
Amy shook her head. ‘You heard what I said. I can’t unearth all the gory details again, it’s just too much to take. So, I’ll have to face the fact that he’s always out there somewhere.’
‘Then the only thing to do is look at the positives.’
Colin and Amy glanced perplexedly at Rosie.
‘What I’m saying is,’ she continued, ‘you only saw a glimpse of him. He didn’t actually do anything, did he? I mean, he didn’t even see you.’
‘No, I suppose not. But…’
‘But nothing, babe. Show him. Show the whole world that you’re not going to be intimidated like this.’
‘Rosie, dearest.’ Colin winced. ‘It’s too early for all that. She’s had a nasty shock today and she needs to take her time.
‘The pub.’ Rosie clapped her hands together, not listening to Colin. ‘Let’s go down to the Frog and Fiddle tonight.’
Amy crumpled her face.
‘Don’t give me that look! You’ll feel amazing once you’ve done it.’
‘Nonsense. She’ll be better off staying in with a good film and a slap-up serving of my Sweet and Sour Surprise.’
‘They do bar food, dear.’ Rosie snapped bluntly.
‘That is not the point!’ cried Colin. ‘She’s hardly cut out for a night in the pub if five minutes in the supermarket is too much to take.’
‘Staying in will do more harm than good. Do you want this morning’s blip to be ingrained in her mind?’
‘Well, obviously not, but…’
‘So, let’s just do it and have a nice time. Besides… your favourite barman might be working tonight. Wouldn’t want to miss out on that, would you?’
‘How shallow do you think I am?’ Colin almost shouted. ‘Amy’s wellbeing is far more important.’
‘If you care so much, you’ll agree with me.’ Rosie squared up to him with a spatula. ‘And I know deep down, you would kill for a pina colada. Especially if he’s the one sticking an umbrella in it.’
‘Resorting to bribes now, are we? Well, you can stick them where the sun doesn’t…’
‘Perhaps she’s right.’
They both turned to Amy. Colin’s face filled with horror while Rosie shot her a delighted smile.
‘That’s the spirit! I promise, you won’t regret it.’
‘Don’t feel pushed into this darling,’ Colin warned. ‘You’ve had enough worry for one day.’
‘I can’t go on like this. If I’m not running away, then I have to be able to do ordinary things without feeling terrified every time I try.’
‘Exactly.’ Rosie put an arm around her. ‘We’ll be back here before you know it, and you’ll feel so much better for getting all done up and going somewhere without anything disastrous happening.’
‘But only an hour or so,’ replied Amy. ‘And a quiet table at the back.’
‘If you’re sure,’ Colin sighed. ‘I suppose it’s a chance to wear my new shirt.’
‘I knew you couldn’t resist, Col,’ Rosie patted his arm. ‘And as for you…’ She gripped Amy and guided her out of the kitchen. ‘You’re going to look so sexy tonight, you’ll forget that dirtbag ever existed.’
***
They chose a table tucked well away in the cosiest corner of the Frog and Fiddle, and, after two drinks, Amy started to unwind. Her eyes were rimmed with metallic liner that matched her shimmery top and Rosie had helped her to expertly cover every last trace of her scars.
Colin leaned against the bar and ordered them two gin and tonics along with a Singapore Sling for himself. He locked the barman in a seductive stare while he tapped his card on the machine and slipped it into his pocket. Then he left with the drinks, throwing a sultry glance over his shoulder.
‘He wants me,’ he declared, placing the glasses on the table.
‘He’s not even looking at you.’ Rosie frowned.
‘It’s called being subtle. Ever heard of that, darling?’
‘You haven’t,’ she scoffed.
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’ He looked wounded.
‘Perhaps she’s got her eye on him too,’ joked Amy.
‘Oh please.’ Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘Somehow the five layers of fake tan don’t quite do it for me.’
‘You have no taste, dear, that’s your problem,’ Colin retorted.
‘Taste?’ She nearly choked into her glass. ‘I’m more than partial to peanut butter but not when it’s airbrushed onto someone’s skin.’
‘A newly-qualified accountant.’ He sighed, indulging in another look towards the bar. ‘And I know just the bookshop that needs one. Next round’s on me again, girls!’
‘Good thinking. Give it half an hour and he’ll be gagging for your bleary eyes and inability to walk in a straight line.’
Narrowing his eyes at Rosie, Colin turned back to Amy with a defiant smile. He cocked his head to one side as if to examine her in more detail.
‘Darling, darling, look at you.’
‘What?’ She was suddenly alarmed.
He put his hand on hers and squeezed it.
‘Not only do you look like a goddess tonight, but you’re smiling like one. Wonderful to see you happy.’
‘I second that,’ Rosie agreed wholeheartedly. ‘You’re smashing it, girl!’
‘Never let anything – or anyone for that matter – get you down.’
Amy felt grateful as she sat snugly between them. It was uplifting to be facing the world again, somewhere outside work. To relax in the humble surroundings of the pub, hearing the clinking of glasses as the crowds laughed and chattered, was an unexpected tonic. Like a flame on a lighter, a tiny glow was beginning to take effect.
‘Another drink, ladies?’ Colin drained his glass and swiftly stood up. ‘That sly little fox has his eye on me again.’
‘Don’t push it.’ Rosie pulled him back down. ‘There are plenty more nights for the rest of the cocktail menu.’
‘I beg to differ.’ He laughed. ‘One Bloody Mary and he’s mine.’
As Rosie continued restraining him, Amy’s phone began buzzing on the table and an unknown number filled the screen. She frowned, then answered.
‘Hello?’
There was silence.
‘Hello…?’
The sound of wind or traffic blustered in her ear. Then she stiffened.
It was someone breathing.
‘Have you…’ she stuttered. ‘I think you might have the wrong num…’
‘I can see you.’
Her heart pumped with the weight of a brick as she eyed every area of the room.
‘Nathan, how did you get my…’
‘I have my ways,’ he replied casually. ‘Can’t stay away from me, can you?’
‘How do you know where I am?’
She could barely grip the phone for shaking. Rosie and Colin had stopped arguing and were firmly rooted either side of her.
‘Now that would be telling.’
‘What do you want? Why are you doing this?’
There was a long pause.
‘I’d take care getting home if I were you.’
‘I don’t understand…’
Chills paralysed her spine and the whole pub seemed to be blacking out as his whisper echoed sharply down the phone.
‘You might not be as lucky next time.’
‘Please,’ Amy begged, trying not to cry. ‘Don’t do this, Nathan.’
The line went dead.
‘Nathan!’
She clambered to her feet, clutching the table as her eyes darted once more around the room. Then, barely able to see for the tears, she wriggled across Colin’s lap and stumbled over to the door.
‘Wait!’ Rosie grabbed her from behind. ‘You can’t just leg it outside on your own. You don’t know where the tosser is.’
Ensuring that Colin was by Amy’s side, she stepped onto the street and checked in both directions.
‘Come on.’ She beckoned. ‘He’s not here.’
Colin walked Amy out cautiously with his arm around her shoulder. They carried on in silence until they turned a corner.
‘It’s all right, darling,’ he said calmly. ‘The brute is nowhere to be seen.’
‘This whole thing is my fault,’ Rosie cried. ‘I shouldn’t have made you go out.’
‘Never mind that,’ directed Colin. ‘Let’s just get her inside.’
As soon as he unlocked the front door, Amy headed upstairs.
‘Oh, don’t go straight to bed, sweetheart,’ he whined. ‘Come and talk to us.’
‘Please, Col, I just need to sleep.’ Amy fought to sound upbeat.
‘Night then,’ called Rosie up the banister. ‘But tomorrow, you tell the police.’
The tears fell uncontrollably as soon as she was out of sight. She huddled up in bed while her mind replayed every minute of the phone call. It had all crashed down around her in one split second. She still couldn’t escape from Nathan.
As she rolled over to face the wall, a papery thud hit the carpet and she switched on her lamp to investigate. It was the forgotten envelope from her father. She slid it back up on the bed and tore away the seal.
Through her watery vision, she pulled out a scribbled note and a folded copy of the Flintley Gazette. Blue tape marked a page where an advert was ringed in yellow highlighter. She wiped her eyes and scanned the words in bold:
Year Four Teacher, starting September. Experience necessary.
Then she read the small print below and stopped at the third line down: Woodbrook Primary School, Flintley.
Chalk Hearts – Emma Whittaker
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