Ch 2 Monica.

Chapter 2. 1973

My mother heard me slam down the telephone and rushed into the room. No sooner had I put the receiver down when, true to form, the telephone began ringing again.

         "Let me get it," my mother said, panicking because of her error.

         She was too late and I picked up the receiver and shouted down the telephone. "Why don't you just piss off and leave me alone?"

         "What on earth's going on?"

         I realised the call was from my father and my heart sank again because of my mistake. As I continued I glanced at my mother with the expression of a naughty child. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to swear…"

         "Don't you worry yourself about that. Has he started again? Has that bloody pervert been on again?" But I didn't answer. "I'll kill him," my father said. "I'll bloody kill him if I ever get my hands on him."

         I passed the receiver to my mother and walked off to the kitchen. I sat at the kitchen table and leant forward resting my elbows on the table with my hands to my face in an emotional despair.

         My mother must have hurried the conversation because she soon followed me into the kitchen. "Are you all right, Love?"

         I gave a large sigh as I looked up. "Yes, I'm okay, but I don't understand, Mum. Why me? Why is he doing this to me?"

         "Who knows? Just picked a number from the phone book and you happened to answer. They'll get him. The police will get him. It's just a matter of time before he makes a mistake with someone and they'll have him. They always do."

         I smiled, trying to give the impression that I was not too distressed over the matter. I knew the calls were upsetting my mother as much as they were upsetting me, but my mother always tried to put on a brave face so I felt I should do the same. "I'd best pour out the tea before it gets cold," I said.

         "You sit there, Monica, I'll do it. You've been at work all day."

         We sat and talked about my new job at Benito’s and how it was so different to my time at the cigarette factory. “Our wedding anniversary is coming up soon,” my mother said. “Maybe we can get a discount at your restaurant?”

         “I’m sure you can.” I was trying to dismiss the telephone call from my mind, but I kept glancing over to the living room door.

         "It's all right. I've left the phone off the hook until your father gets home."

         I smiled; relieved the man could not harass me any further. "What time will Dad be home then?"

         "Not till after six o’clock."

         "Good, I can relax in the bathroom without him banging on the door telling me to hurry up like he usually does." I went upstairs leaving my mother feeding the washing machine again. I closed the curtains of my bedroom window and got undressed before going to the bathroom. I was soon relaxing in the bath daydreaming about my boyfriend Alan and worrying a little about my forthcoming karate grading.

         "Have you got any dirty washing?" my mother called from the landing.

         "Only what I've just taken off," I called back.

         "Might as well get it," my mother said.

         I got out of the bath and I could hear my mother working in the kitchen. Because my father was still out I hurried to my bedroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around my hair. I opened the bedroom door and dashed in, but it was an unpleasant surprise when I looked straight through my bedroom window to the flats opposite. I was horrified because out of habit my mother had tidied my room after she collected my washing from the basket and opened the curtains before making her way back down the stairs.

         "Oh, Mum!" I shouted out and I hurried back to the bathroom. When I got back to my bedroom I was wrapped in towels and I walked across to close the curtains. "I wish she wouldn't keep doing that," I muttered to myself, but I saw the funny side and showed a huge grin as I pulled the curtains together. As I walked off a thought came into my mind. Something had disturbed me. I walked back and peered through a gap in the curtains. I was sure that I had momentarily seen a man at one of the windows in the flats opposite looking over. There was no one there now and I thought that maybe it was my imagination.

         That night I went to the karate club and after the evening’s training, I walked out from the church hall that was used by the club. My Boyfriend, Alan, a second-dan black belt instructor, followed me out.

         “You don’t have to sulk, Monica.”

         “I’m not sulking. I’m bloody angry. You said that you would give me a lift home but now you are stopping behind to help with the full-contact group again. It was only supposed to be the occasional Tuesday, but it seems now as if it’s every Tuesday.”

         “I was going to take you home but they asked for my help. How can I refuse with the full-contact competition coming up?”

         “Quite easily if you cared about me, but obviously you don’t.”

         “Now you are being silly.”

         “Silly, or a nuisance.”

         “I can’t talk to you when you are like this. Look, I’ll call round for you later.”

         “Don’t bloody bother,” I said and walked off.

         I walked past a telephone box towards a bit of the road that ran between an old Victorian school and a cemetery. It was the only bit that made me nervous, even though I never heard of anybody having trouble there. The high yellow brick wall of the schoolyard and the trees on the outside of the pavement made it a bleak place and it always seemed at least one of the two street lights were not working.

         I slowed my pace when I saw someone ahead looking round from a side gate recess in the school wall. He moved back out of sight as I got nearer. It worried me and I thought maybe I should go back to the club, or just cross the road and ignore him. I never liked walking on the cemetery side, fearful of a hand reaching out through the ivy-covered railing, but I thought it a better option than passing the man in the recess. I wondered why he was there and what he was doing. I remembered a courting couple in the recess one night. I ignored them and they ignored me although they stopped what they were doing until I passed. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t find somewhere more pleasant to do their courting.

         I made up my mind to cross the road but a car turned into the road behind me and two high-powered spotlights and a fan of light from the headlights suddenly began cutting into the darkness. The car slowed and pulled alongside me. I looked at the familiar Hillman Hunter and smiled as the driver pushed open the passenger door. "Want a lift, Monica?" the lad called.

         "Hello, Demo Dave," I said. "What are you doing around here?" Not my favourite person, but the sight of him cheered me up.

         "Just passing, but I was going to ask you the same."

         "I've just come from the karate club." I glanced back down the road as if to give an indication.

         "Oh, I didn't know you were in that one," he said unconvincingly. "Don't they do all that kickboxing in there?"

         "Only a few of the older lads do that." I got into his car relieved I didn't have to worry about the stranger anymore, and also noticing the huge grin on Dave's face. I knew Dave fancied me, but then Dave fancied anyone in a skirt.

         As we drove past the side gate, I looked at the man as he stood lighting a cigarette. He stared straight back at me and I felt a sudden chill as if his stare had cut into me. I looked away wondering what he was up to and thinking maybe he was planning to break into the school, or maybe not, but I thought he was certainly up to no good.

         I glanced at Dave and thought it couldn't just be a coincidence he happened to be driving along this back street as I left the hall and I wondered what he really wanted.

         "So," Dave said. "I hear you're working with Anne at Benito's?"

         "Yes," I said. I didn't think the question important and my thoughts went back to the sinister appearance of the man in the recess.

         "Nice girl Anne."

         "If you fancy her you're out of luck. She's going steady," I said, speaking as if I finally dismissed the man from my mind.

         "Oh yes, I know. She goes out with, Eddie, a mate of mine. You know Eddie don’t you?”

         “No, Dave, I don’t know Eddie.”

         “Anyway, I was just wondering if you had Anne’s phone number. Joy was asking me for it."

         "Anne's not on the phone. I'd have thought your friend would have told you that."

         "Yeah he did, but I thought he might be lying."

         "And why would he do that?"

         Dave chose to ignore my question. "Joy's having a party next Friday and she wanted me to ask Anne to go."

         "We know about the party. Anne's not going; she has to work Friday night. I've already told Joy."

         "Oh, so you're going then, are you? I'll see you there then and we can have a dance and that."

         "Alan's going as well."

         "Maybe we'd better forget the 'and that' bit then," Dave said and gave a laugh.

         "Yeah, maybe we'd better," I replied and laughed with him.

         Dave dropped me home and I began thinking of the man in the recess again. I wondered if I should call the police, but thought I may look foolish if I did. I thought it best to just forget about him, after all, whatever he was up to; it was nothing to do with me.

Ch 3. Monica.   (18+) Monica's tormentor calls on his wife. #1973357 by Bruce.