That was Darren’s car!

She drove past her block of flats and out at the other end of the street. She didn’t hesitate to go straight to the local police station.

Darren followed her all the way, tailgating her till he saw where she was going, then braking suddenly. She stopped just inside the car park and saw him point to her and raise a clenched fist, then accelerate past the entrance and drive off down the street.

Feeling shaky all over again, she found a visitor’s bay and went into the building.

When she reported what had happened, the officer at the desk looked a bit bored. ‘He just followed you, right?’

Then he suddenly leant forward, indicated her right arm and asked, ‘Where did you get that bruise? It’s a big one.’

She hadn’t even noticed. ‘It wasn’t there when I left home this morning. It must be where Darren grabbed me and thumped me against my car.’

She got a lot more attention then: an interview with the officer in charge of women’s safety, photocopies taken of the two business cards, and a photo of her bruised arm.

One woman excused herself and left, rejoining them ten minutes later. ‘Your witnesses bear out your story and are perfectly happy to testify about what happened. I’m afraid it’ll only mean a warning for your ex this time, but maybe it’ll make him think twice about attacking you again.’

‘I can’t believe he did it at all. He never seemed the sort to, well, stalk someone. And it was he who left me, for heaven’s sake.’

‘Something must have happened to him. You never can tell what will tip some guys over,’ the female officer said. ‘They don’t have “stalker” tattooed on their foreheads. Do you feel safe going home?’

‘Not really.’

‘Are there neighbours close by?’

‘Yes. But they come and go.’

‘We’ll get one of our cars to drive past those flats every hour or so to keep an eye on you. Make sure your doors and windows are locked and put this number on quick dial.’

‘Believe me, I will.’

Stacy didn’t drive straight home, though. She wanted to be with people, so went to another shopping centre and finished buying her groceries. She kept an eye on the crowds and checked the car park for a red car before she went back to her own vehicle.

Then she got angry and told herself not to let him frighten her. It wasn’t as if he was a murderer, and he probably hadn’t meant to bruise her. Or had he?

There was no sign of Darren or his car when she got home, but though it was quite a warm day for this time of year, she didn’t leave the door or windows open.

She’d planned to work on her latest sculpture, but couldn’t get into the mood to create anything, however much of a talking-to she gave herself.

Damn you, Darren! she thought as she lay in bed that night, finding it hard to get to sleep.