This time he did look hurt so when instinct took over, she slid her hand across the table and stroked his forefinger with hers, just once before moving it away.
At this Jed responded, his words took her by surprise. ‘Then why don’t you explain, so I do see. I’m a good listener, I promise.’
When Frankie caught his smile, even though it went against her preconceptions and rules, she let her guard down and decided to give the brown eyes that willed her on a chance.
* * *
Frankie had been living in London since she graduated and met Andrej via a friend of a friend during a party at the house she shared in Kennington. He was a graphic artist, Serbian by birth. They’d hit it off immediately and quickly became an item but within months, Frankie’s life represented a living hell.
Andrej was insanely jealous of anyone, everyone. He was insidious, wanting complete control of her life and, had she not been stronger, her mind too. She’d spotted it quite early, the gaslighting and narcissism. Frankie had ploughed her way through enough manuscripts and psychological thrillers via her job to recognise a threat when she saw one. And he was violent, a nasty drunk. Once alcohol touched his lips he couldn’t stop, drinking one after the other, each flip of the bottle top marking time till the explosion.
When Frankie bagged all his bits and bobs, then took them round to his place and told him it was over, she should have known he wouldn’t take it well because hours later, the nightmare began.
He embarrassed her at work, storming into the publishers, making a scene, shouting obscenities and leaving just before the police arrived. Then he began following her everywhere. Frankie would see him from the office window; or find him staring into the restaurant when she was eating with her friends; or spot him standing on the corner of the street where she lived.
Then the constant phone calls and apologies began, delivery after delivery of flowers, enough to start her own shop. Next came the gifts that she took straight to the charity shop, conscious that he could be watching, knowing that her defiance would either send him a message, or make him even more crazy.
She thought the tip of the iceberg was the night he broke into her house. For days, Frankie and her flatmates had been brushing off odd occurrences. Random stuff had gone missing; the heating was switched off; bath taps were found running; the gas ring on the cooker was left flaming all day; and the clothes in Frankie’s wardrobe were all pushed to the side. She’d presumed one of the other girls had wanted to borrow something but nobody owned up.
But this was nothing compared to the terror of lying in bed one night, and that moment in the darkness when you sense something is different, telling yourself it’s just your imagination, you’re just on edge, grow up and stop being silly. Your eyes droop, then open wide, staring into the blackness, ears on high alert. Did you really hear breathing, and the crackle of a plastic bag you’d left under the bed? But while your brain computes the information, mere seconds pass and the frame shakes and he’s there, on you, it’s too late. His face covered in sweat, pressed close, your fear sucking in his whisky breath, a strong clammy hand pressed on your mouth as your tightly closed eyes remember those of the crazy man who is now crushing your lungs.
One good bite, the ooze of blood and a taste of metal against her tongue and the scream of a terrified woman that kept on and on and on. That’s all it took for Frankie to wake her flatmates and send Andrej fleeing, escaping through the window of her ground floor bedroom and disappearing into the night.
The police searched and drew a blank. Weeks passed and meanwhile Frankie was too terrified to go or stay anywhere alone, praying they’d catch him eventually. Twenty-nine days later as Frankie and her flatmate, Jo, traversed the supermarket aisles, Andrej was caught on CCTV, entering the store. He was walking at speed, not shopping but searching for his prey and there on the dairy aisle, in front of horrified, late-night shoppers he calmly stabbed Frankie four times. Thankfully he missed her major organs before being overpowered by two security guards and a brave, have-a-go student.
Andrej was given a sentence of seven years in prison for aggravated assault. Frankie’s wounds healed but her head didn’t. It was all too much, even though Andrej was in HMP Wandsworth, even when she swapped rooms with Jo and moved upstairs. Her flatmates went out of their way to make Frankie feel safe from perceived threats, fitting extra locks on the doors and windows but it wasn’t enough.
Her employers were wonderful and understood completely when she told them she was going freelance, moving away and starting again. Her flatmates were equally encouraging and in her more negative moments Frankie imagined they were glad the stress-head was leaving the building. Had they known the lengths she was prepared to take to avoid Andrej and men just like him, they might have been offended but as it happened, Frankie never gave them the opportunity to comment.
Determined never to be found once Andrej was released – and it was likely this would be halfway through his sentence – Frankie reinvented herself. She deleted her Facebook account, changed her surname by deed poll and became Frankie Clarke, taking her grandma’s maiden name.
Frankie also had no intention of going back to Elkdale. Instead, she headed to a small town on the outskirts of Manchester and a second floor, very safe flat, just a stone’s throw from her grandma’s nursing home. Her parents came to visit frequently but were forbidden to tell anyone where she lived or, divulge her new identity and, owing to the state their child was in following the attack, they agreed immediately.
Frankie settled into her new place and job, saw her poorly grandma regularly and gradually learned to deal with residual trauma, becoming stronger and braver as time passed.
After her grandma died, Frankie was left with a huge hole in her life. She was reticent about moving back to Elkdale and her parents but she felt the pinch of loneliness. She hadn’t made new friends locally, preferring solitude and privacy and had cut all ties with her school friends when she left for university. Elkdale held bad memories and she rarely returned and only for flying visits.
Six weeks after her grandma died, on what would have been her birthday, Frankie’s dad bought a lucky dip lottery ticket and won just short of two million pounds, and the family bucket list was written. They told everyone their good fortune was the result of a small inheritance because Frankie’s parents wanted the real reason to remain private.
Her parents had worked hard all their lives and were determined to enjoy what was left. ‘There are no pockets in shrouds,’ said her dad over the phone, making Frankie shiver. Adamant that she too would enjoy life to the full he deposited half the money into her account, joking that if there was any left when they pegged it, she’d get that too.
As the clock began to tick louder and Andrej’s release drew closer, Frankie felt the walls closing in. No matter how much she reasoned with herself that he’d have learned his lesson and forgotten all about her, she laughed at her own words, believing none of them. Her dad’s lucky dip gave Frankie the means to escape her nightmares and fears so after lots of research, quite a few trips back and forth to France, she found her forever home far away from the memories of Elkdale and Kennington.
Once she’d emigrated, the trail would be cold. She’d made sure that if Andrej looked for Frankie Hooper he’d draw a blank and hopefully give up, then finally she could get on with her life and live in peace. Yes, she’d have to put her big girl pants on and get used to living alone but she would do it, she could do it because she deserved a fresh start and as much as some believed otherwise, she wasn’t to blame for the events of the past.
* * *
Frankie took a gulp of her wine. Jed had remained silent throughout the telling of her tale and looked thoughtful, serious but not too shocked. There was a chance, just like her London flatmates, that he was glad the woman sitting opposite was buggering off to France. He’d swerved a loon. The next few moments would tell.
Jed puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. ‘Bloody hell, I didn’t expect that… to be honest I wasn’t sure what you were going to say. But stabbed… That’s awful. Are you okay now? I mean, did you heal okay?’
Frankie answered honestly but swiftly. The indelible marks Andrej had left on her skin would always be a reminder of the attack, so where possible she didn’t dwell on them. ‘I was lucky because the wounds weren’t deep, I had my back to him. He used a penknife but one cut tore my skin just below my shoulder blade. The doctors glued it; the other three healed by themselves. I’m lucky that most of the time I can cover the scars with clothes. And I’ve learned not to look at them if I can help it but if I’d been facing him, who knows…’
Jed appeared lost for words so she filled in for him.
‘So do you understand now why I want a fresh start, I mean really fresh? I can work from anywhere and I love France. It’s where I imagined living when I’m old and grey but then I thought why wait? Go now. So I am.’
‘Yeah, I totally get it. I have plans too, daydreams really. I’d like my own carpentry business but they get put back every time Dad gets another job so when he finally retires next year, that’s when I’ll have to putmybig boy pants on and decide whether to carry on with the firm or go my own way. So I admire you, I really do. And I think you’re brave, too.’
