The Unburied Past (12 page)

‘All right, all right,' Angie said quickly, ‘I'll see to them. A bit much, leaving them out here,' she added. ‘The cars are in the drive – he could tell we were in.'

Kirsty thrust the cellophaned sheaf into her hands. ‘Do what you like, as long as you keep them out of my sight.' She'd returned to checking orders for the following day when a sharp cry reached her and, hurrying into the kitchen, she found Angie at the sink sucking her fingers, the flowers scattered on the draining board beside her.

‘Something
bit
me!' she said indignantly, turning to her friend.

Kirsty looked bewildered. ‘Something in the flowers, you mean?'

‘Yes. I'd just cut the twine holding them together when I felt this sharp pain.'

‘So rather than cyanide in the chocolates, it was a snake in the flowers?'

Despite her discomfort, Angie laughed. ‘It would have to be a pretty small one!'

‘You didn't just stab yourself on a thorn?'

‘No, I didn't.' She picked up a wooden spoon and began carefully separating the stems with the handle. Suddenly she stopped. ‘My God!' she said slowly.

‘What?'

‘It seems impossible, but … surely these are stinging nettles? Among the foliage?'

‘
What?
' Kirsty hurried over, stared incredulously at the offending leaves then picked up the discarded wrapping. ‘Yes, look!' she exclaimed, holding it out for Angie's inspection. ‘The pieces of sticky tape are different widths – which must mean the florist wrapped the bouquet, then whoever bought it slit it open and inserted the nettles before resealing it. That's why it was left on the step. Too bad we
haven't
got CCTV.'

Angie glanced back to the blisters rising on her inflamed fingers. ‘Well, it's pretty painful, I can tell you, and not a dock leaf in sight! God, I'd like to get hold of this joker and wring his bloody neck!'

‘You and me both,' Kirsty said feelingly. ‘I'll get the antihistamines. Hold your hand under the cold tap or squirt lemon juice on it. That might help.'

She ran upstairs to retrieve the pills, closing her mind to all but the need to soothe Angie's pain. But as she handed them over with a glass of water, she had to face the fact that the nuisance value of the so-called ‘gifts' had escalated, and for the first time there was open malice behind them.

As it happened, the doctored bouquet heralded an increasingly disturbing week. As instructed, Kirsty informed her contact number at the police station, but the impersonal voice that took her message proved little comfort when, two days later, another email from ‘xyz' appeared on her screen. It read:
It's polite to say thank you when you receive gifts. The latest offering was to teach you better manners.

Angie, hearing her exclamation, reached out and caught her hand as the cursor hovered over the Reply button. ‘Don't answer it!' she cautioned urgently. ‘Remember what the police said: he's trying to provoke a response – don't let him succeed!'

‘I'm just going to tell him to go to hell – that I don't
want
his blasted gifts, so why should I thank him for them?'

‘He already knows that. He's just needling you.'

Kirsty looked up at her despairingly. ‘But how much of this do I have to take? If he was using my personal address I could change it, but I can't alter the business one – it would cause all kinds of problems. I'm a sitting duck!'

Angie nodded in sympathy. ‘At least the police know about it. They'll catch him if he makes a slip, as he's bound to, but in the meantime, love, you've no option but to sit it out.'

The third incident, however, made the others pale into insignificance, and came in two instalments. Over breakfast the following morning they were shocked to hear on the news that a thirty-five-year-old woman had been attacked and raped in Lacy Park the previous evening.

They stared at each other in disbelief.

‘
Lacy
Park?
' Kirsty repeated incredulously.

‘A bit close to home, isn't it?' Angie agreed with a shudder.

‘It's … appalling! God, think of all the times we go there! It'll never feel the same again!'

Minutes later, predictably, Janice phoned. ‘You've heard the news?' she began and, without waiting for confirmation, rushed on. ‘In that park just near you! I can't believe it! Is nowhere safe these days? Darling, promise me you won't go there until they catch this man.'

Kirsty rolled her eyes. ‘I can't do that,' she said gently. ‘For one thing, it's a useful shortcut. Look, I know what's happened is dreadful, but let's keep a sense of proportion. I shan't go after dark, if that makes you feel better.'

‘Not much, it doesn't. You've mentioned going there to read, which means finding a quiet spot. I shudder to think what might happen!'

‘He's unlikely to attack in broad daylight, Auntie,' Kirsty pointed out, for her own reassurance as much as her aunt's. ‘There are always people about then, and anyway, everyone will be on the lookout for him now. He's not likely to go back there.'

‘Don't they revisit the scene of the crime?' Janice asked wildly.

‘Only murderers, I think.'

‘Don't be so flippant, Kirsty – it might
be
murder next time! At least come for lunch on Sunday so we can discuss it sensibly.'

‘Auntie, I can't. Really. But don't worry, I promise not to take any risks.'

‘Well, don't say I didn't warn you,' Janice snapped. ‘And keep a pepper spray or something in your bag.'

Half an hour later, Lance phoned. ‘Don't panic,' he began, ‘I'm not trying to restart anything. I just wanted to advise you to avoid the park at the moment. Its hazard rating has just soared.'

‘Thanks for the warning, but I really don't think—'

‘Especially,' he was continuing, ‘in view of those unwanted emails and things. You did go to the police, didn't you?'

Kirsty went cold and her mouth suddenly dried. ‘I did, yes,' she said after a pause, ‘but you surely don't think it's the same man?'

‘Not necessarily, but …
two
nutters in the area?'

‘Well, thanks,' she said bitterly. ‘You've made me feel a whole lot better.'

‘I'm trying to make you see sense, Kirsty, that's all. Don't go round thinking you're impregnable. No doubt that's what that poor woman thought.'

‘OK,' she said with difficulty. ‘I'll be careful. Thanks for phoning.' She switched off, a hand going to her throat. There
wasn't
any connection, was there? Surely there couldn't be?

The sense of unease, both general and personal, stayed with her all day, and during their lunch break she stood for some minutes at the window staring down at the park, green and innocent in the fitful sunshine. Angie came up and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Lance is an idiot,' she said bluntly, ‘putting such ideas in your head. ‘Of
course
there's no connection between what happened down there and your “admirer”.'

‘“Stalker”, Angie,' Kirsty corrected aridly. ‘No point in avoiding the word; that's what he's become.'

‘Well, the police will be joining the dots, in the unlikely event there are any to be joined.'

Slowly the day passed. When he returned the van after the day's deliveries, Toby, Angie's youngest brother, added his own words of caution.

‘Don't go out alone after dark, either of you,' he ordered. ‘And don't relax and think it's safe if nothing happens for a while. No one's safe until this man is caught.'

‘Even more than usual,' Kirsty remarked as they closed the kitchen door firmly behind them. ‘Thank God it's Friday!'

It was as they were going upstairs that Angie said suddenly, ‘Dammit, I've just remembered! Chrissie wanted the name of the dressmaker who did those alterations for me, and I never got back to her. I'll give her a call now, before I forget.'

‘OK, I'll make a start on dinner.' Kirsty went into the kitchen, turned on the radio to catch the latest news bulletin and took two salmon steaks out of the fridge. She surveyed them for a moment, considering what to do with them, then reached for the pot of coriander on the window sill. She had scrubbed new potatoes, washed and chopped the coriander and poured two glasses of end-of-the-week wine before she heard Angie come into the room behind her. ‘We're out of green vegetables,' she said without turning. ‘I know you don't like carrots with fish, but that's all we've got.'

Angie didn't reply and Kirsty turned to see her leaning against the door frame, her face white.

‘Angie – what is it? What's happened?'

‘You're not going to believe this,' Angie said, her voice shaking. ‘Kirsty, it was Alicia who was attacked last night.'

‘No!'

‘I could tell from Chrissie's voice that she was upset, and when I asked what was wrong she broke down and blurted it all out. Then she immediately regretted it and spent ages making me promise not to tell anyone, because the … victim's identity mustn't be disclosed.'

‘But … what actually happened? Did she say?'

‘Alicia was on her way home from a meeting at the medical centre at about ten o'clock. It wasn't even properly dark, Chrissie said, but he jumped her from behind.'

‘So she didn't see his face?'

‘No, he was wearing a balaclava and he never said a word, so she didn't hear his voice either. He just … dragged her into some bushes.'

Kirsty sat down slowly at the kitchen table. ‘He must have been pretty strong – Alicia's tall, and I bet she put up a fight.'

‘I suppose he had the advantage of surprise – it all happened so quickly. And when it was … over … he just sprinted off into the bushes, leaving her lying there.'

Angie came into the room, picked up a glass of wine and took a sip. ‘Remember the attack near Bellington station, a month or so ago? It was the same MO, and Chrissie said the police aren't ruling out the possibility of it being the same man.'

Kirsty thought back. Bellington was the stop before Westbourne on the London line. ‘The girl who'd just got off the train?'

‘Yes; according to the papers other passengers said she'd spent the whole journey on her mobile, talking loudly about some business contract she was negotiating. They think it's likely her attacker was also on the train and followed her when she got off. You know the houses down that road – they all have long front gardens. He dragged her into one of the driveways.'

Kirsty said shakily, ‘Moral: don't talk loudly on your mobile!'

Angie smiled fleetingly. ‘I know I don't need to say it, but we must keep quiet about Alicia. She's carrying on as usual, and even went into the surgery today, brave soul. Imagine having to face her patients if this became public.'

The news hung over them for the rest of the evening, and although they talked of other things and watched television, they kept coming back to it.

‘She's the last person I'd have thought something like this would happen to,' Angie said at one point. ‘I mean, she's a bit intimidating, isn't she? So confident and sure of herself.'

‘She's probably not all that confident now, poor thing.'

They went to their rooms soon after ten thirty, but Kirsty couldn't settle. The police would have more on their minds now, she thought, than a few unwanted emails and nettles in a bouquet. Fragments of talk at the dinner party kept coming back to her – Alicia's quick, decisive voice, her succinctly expressed opinions. God, if it could happen to Alicia Penn …

She climbed into bed, settled the pillow at her back and picked up her library book, but she couldn't concentrate. The words swam together and she kept rereading the same paragraph. After a while there was a tap at the door and Angie came in bearing two mugs of hot chocolate.

‘I saw your light on, and thought you might be having trouble getting to sleep.'

‘Thanks. Stay for a minute – push Bear off the chair.'

Angie smiled, depositing the soft toy on the floor. ‘If I were you, I'd have him in bed. You need something to cuddle tonight.'

‘He was my equivalent of a comfort blanket,' Kirsty admitted. ‘My aunt says when I first went to her I screamed every time he was out of sight, and even in my teens he soaked up my tears when I failed an exam or the boy next door didn't phone.'

‘I think it's lovely that you still have him. When we moved house all our toys were recycled to charity shops.'

‘Well, there were four of you; the combined collection must have taken up a lot of space.'

‘All the same, I cried for a week when I found they were gone.' Angie stared into her mug. ‘I hope Alicia has some sort of comfort blanket.'

Kirsty smilingly shook her head. ‘I rather doubt it, don't you?'

And Angie had to agree.

Angie had offered to cancel her weekend with Simon to keep her company, and although Kirsty insisted she'd be fine, by the time Saturday morning arrived she wasn't looking forward to two days on her own, and was actually reconsidering Janice's invitation when, out of the blue, Nick phoned.

It was over ten days since their evening together, and as the college had now broken up for the summer, she'd concluded, with mixed feelings, that she wouldn't be hearing from him again.

‘I'm just back from a week in Ibiza with the lads,' he began breezily. ‘A spur-of-the moment decision at the end of term. And as I'm off to Scotland next week to see the parents, I wondered if by any chance you're free this evening? Sorry for the short notice, but as you'll appreciate, life's pretty hectic at the moment.'

Kirsty hesitated. A second date suggested he might be hoping for a deeper understanding between them and, though attracted to him, she wasn't sure she was ready for that. But it was good of him to contact her again after her previous suspicions, and at least she'd have company for the evening.