Five Strangers by E.V. Adamson

Author:E.V. Adamson [Adamson, E.V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-03-05T17:00:00+00:00

44

BEX

I’m sitting with Jen in the ground-floor café of Tate Modern. Through the line of silver birches I can see the dome of St Paul’s across the river, imprisoned by a square of brutal architecture. One of the baristas is talking loudly about how the coffee is roasted by hand in a Second World War Nissen Hut within the grounds of Tate Britain. A woman at the next table is telling her friends about how Brexit has ruined the property market in London – she hoped to sell this year, but instead she’s resigned herself to building a glass box on the back of her property. I’m hearing all of this as I pretend to listen to Jen, who is telling me in great detail about what Ayesha has just told her.

I’m trying to support Jen, I really am, but at times I have to acknowledge that sometimes it’s a pretence; all the details about the murder–suicide get a bit too much for me and, for the sake of my own sanity, occasionally I have to switch off and zone out. I take out my phone and check it.

She must notice my attention is drifting away from her because she says, with a note of irritation in her voice, ‘I’m sorry, you must be sick of this.’

‘That awful woman at the next table – she’s got such a loud voice,’ I say. ‘Shall we go on somewhere else so I can hear what you’re saying?’

‘Good idea,’ she says. Just as she stands up her phone pings. She takes it out of her pocket, and, as she presses her finger down on the home button, her face freezes.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

‘It’s him again,’ she says. Her eyes scan the café, darting from face to face with the desperation of a woman hunted.

‘What?’

‘I’ve just got another message – look.’

She passes her phone to me as she continues to look around her. It’s from @WatchingYouJenHunter.

Love the blue blouse. Sexy.

I know already what Jen is wearing, but still I find myself focusing on her blue blouse. I also know it’s from Zara, as we were together when she bought it. A moment later another message comes through.

What did the doc tell you?

‘There’s another one too,’ I say, as I pass the phone back to Jen.

‘Fuck,’ she says. ‘He’s here.’

‘I thought he’d stopped messaging you.’

She doesn’t reply. Instead, she storms out of the café, nearly knocking over her coffee in the process, and begins to run around the front of the building, weaving in and out of the silver birches, checking the faces of the people sitting on benches. She approaches one man who, from the back has something of the look of Laurence about him, and reaches out to touch him on the shoulder. He turns around, startled and appalled.

‘Sorry,’ mumbles Jen, holding her hands up as she backs away. ‘I know he’s here, somewhere. He’s watching me.’

‘Let’s go,’ I say, as I try to take hold of her arm.

‘No!’ she shouts, brushing me away.

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