I grab the door handle and, in my haste, almost fall out of the car onto the icy ground. I step away from the car, and watch from a short distance, ready to run straight back to the office if anyone emerges. I stand there for a few minutes but can’t see anything, so, holding my breath, I move closer and closer to the car. When I’m near enough, I slowly put my face to the back window and cautiously peer through, standing so still, my heart feels as if it’s almost stopped. I give it a few seconds, then leap forward and quickly rip open the back door, hoping to God whoever is in there doesn’t jump out at me. But there’s no one, nothing. Just nothing. I check over my shoulder, then take a closer look around the back seat and realise I am, after all, alone. I’m breathless, clinging onto the door to hold myself up. Knowing there’s someone out there who wants to hurt me is a horrible feeling, and it’s definitely playing with my head.
Composing myself, I check the boot, but nothing. I’m overtired and anxious and it’s possible I imagined the strong scent. I get back in the car and take a deep breath, and allow my heart rate to slow down for a few seconds before I start the car. I need to get a grip, there’s no one here. But even if I imagined there was someone in the back seat, there’s no denying the stench of perfume that now pervades the inside of the car. How did it get here? Whose is it? It’s definitely not mine.
I don’t want to hang around any longer, so start the engine and set off for Alex’s. My whole body is shaking with cold and fear, the acrid taste of perfume in my mouth – another person’s perfume.
I pull away, and glance again in the rear mirror. As I peer into the darkness behind me I notice the thick blanket that I always keep on the back seat has been moved. I stop the car, put on the interior light and turn around to take it in. It’s spread across the whole of the back seat, covering it. And I know I didn’t do that. Someone else did.
Arriving at Alex’s I get out of the car and walk quickly to his front door. I keep turning to check behind me, just in case.
When Alex opens the door, I almost fall into his arms. He ushers me into the kitchen, soothing me with words and a hot drink, while I tell him about the strong smell in the car, the way the blanket was laid across the seat.
‘Do you think that was symbolic?’ I say.
He is clearly concerned about this, but as confused as I am. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t your perfume? And are you absolutely sure you didn’t lay the blanket across the seat?’ he asks.
‘Of course I am. I’d remember doing that,’ I say. ‘And it wasn’t my perfume. I like light, floral scents, this was heavy – lilies and musk and dark notes – more like aftershave, really.’ I can feel it on me, a cloying stench that I long to wash away, if I was home I’d jump straight in the shower.
‘Have you any idea who it might be?’ he asks.
For a moment I hesitate. I want to tell him about Tom, but is it fair to blame him for this too? Then again, I hurt him, he’s resentful. But why would Tom do that? And anyway, how did he get into the car without breaking a window or lock?
‘I don’t know, I had a weird delivery at work the other day,’ I say, and go on to tell him about the roses and the vile note.
He looks shocked. ‘Do you really have no idea who might be sending you something like that?’
‘No. I wondered about Tom… But—’
‘Tom, your ex?’
‘Yeah, I mean he was upset when we broke up. He took it worse than I’d thought he would and there were some late-night calls. I think he might have come to the flat… hung around outside, but I don’t know,’ I add firmly when I see the look of horror on Alex’s face.
‘You’re not in touch with him, are you?’
‘No. But I left messages on his phone. He hasn’t responded.’
‘Well he wouldn’t, would he?’
‘He was hurt and angry with me, but that was ages ago, he moved on – at least