Maybe he’s calling my bluff. But in truth, he seems as amazed and horrified as I am.
‘Oh I will call the police, but I wanted to find out what you had to say first before I drop you in it.’
‘You really think it was me?’ He looks genuinely shocked.
I roll my eyes. ‘Tom, who else could it be?’
‘Try your new boyfriend.’
‘How do you know I have a new boyfriend?’
‘I’ve seen you around. You were all over each other in The Orange Tree the other night.’
‘You’re not following me, are you?’ I ask, genuinely creeped out.
‘Hannah, I didn’t follow you when we were together, why would I start now?’
I almost smile, and remember that sometimes he could be quite funny, I’d forgotten that.
‘Get a grip,’ he goes on. ‘We live near each other, we work a few streets apart, we socialise in the same, small city with one high street running through it. Of course I’m going to see you around.’
‘I haven’t seen you.’
‘Well, I don’t spend my evenings licking someone’s face in public.’
‘It’s called being in love, Tom, something you know nothing about.’
He takes a sip of latte, cool as a cucumber, nothing ever seems to move him, even my anger – especially my anger.
‘I think you’ve got me wrong,’ he says, putting down his mug. ‘Yeah, okay I was pissed off when you dumped me, and kicked me out of my home. Then I was suspended from my job over some emails I didn’t write, and I still don’t know who did.’ He pauses and looks at me accusingly.
‘It wasn’t me, I told you, I swear it wasn’t.’ A few weeks after we’d split he turned up at the office screaming about how I’d sent emails to everyone at the council (where he worked) accusing him of sexual harassment, or impropriety or something. Apparently there was an internal investigation and he’d been suspended, but I had nothing to do with it.
‘Whatever,’ he says dismissively, still clearly believing I tried to destroy his life. ‘You were the one that dumped me, then you started punishing me… yeah, I came to the office, I was pissed off with you – but, trust me, I am no stalker. That’ – he points at the card on the table in front of me – ‘is different level.’
I’m not totally convinced. Admittedly, he never actually did anything too weird back then, just some heavy-breathing phone calls, but other stuff happened that I still can’t explain. Then more recently, there’s been the note, and the strong smell of aftershave in my car last night, the blanket on the back seat. It might be nothing. Or it might be Tom.
‘Anyway, when have I ever bought you flowers?’ he says as an afterthought, and laughs.
I can’t help but smile. ‘Mmm, you have a point, they were roses too – a bit classy for your tastes. But that note was nasty – and to my knowledge, there’s no one else who hates me like you do.’
‘I’m over it. And I know this might be hard for you to get your head round, but I’m seeing someone else now. I’m really not interested, Hannah,’ he says. ‘And, if you ask me, this card isn’t from someone who hates you, it’s from someone who’s obsessed with you.’
Chapter Eleven
It’s been almost three weeks since my meeting with Tom and, tellingly, nothing else unsettling has happened.
I’m not convinced Tom got into my car that night. Perhaps my perfume had reacted in the freezing air and that made it smell stronger, like aftershave even? And the wind may have whipped the blanket up when I opened the door. I’m not sure I believe it, but it’s made me feel a bit less anxious, and I can go about my daily life without being too paranoid.
As for the roses and the note, Tom did a good acting job of being surprised when he read it. But for him to say someone is obsessed with me makes me think he might just be trying to scare me – and therefore perhaps he did send them. I didn’t tell Alex about meeting up with Tom, he’d only worry, he warned me not to make contact, said he was dangerous. Perhaps he is. Fortunately, there’s been lots going on recently that has kept Tom’s antics on the fringes of my mind, not least my relationship with Alex, which is going from strength to strength.
I can’t believe how much my life has changed in a matter of a