In the Still of the Night

Harriet stared back at him, frowning. ‘So, what do I do about him?’

‘Leave him to me, I’ll deal with him. Once he knows I’m on to him he’ll probably back off and leave Annie alone. He’s weak, and weak men are often bullies, but the first sign of anyone standing up to them and they run.’ He stood up. ‘Now, what about those omelettes? Annie, you stay here and rest. Harriet and I will deal with dinner.’

She protested, swinging her legs down from the couch, but he pushed her back.

‘We won’t take five minutes. Just shut your eyes, we’ll call you when the food is ready.’

In the kitchen he found a roll of cling film and cut off a large piece, laid it on the table, picked up the blood-stained bootee and laid it on to the larger piece, wrapped it into a small parcel, while Harriet was finding an omelette pan, melting a little butter in it, keeping a curious eye on him as she worked.

‘You won’t get fingerprints off that, will you?’

‘Unlikely, but we’ll have a shot. What I do want to know is if that’s real blood or fake.’

Harriet shuddered. ‘I expect it’s fake. You know, I’m not one of Derek’s admirers, but I’d never have guessed he had such a morbid streak, or such a nasty one, either.’

‘He’s an actor, isn’t he?’ Sean put the wrapped bootee into his jacket pocket.

Harriet laughed, getting a warmed plate ready before she began cooking the omelettes. ‘Can I quote you, Mr Halifax?’

A few minutes later Annie joined them in the kitchen. Harriet’s omelette was light and golden, the salad was perfect. Sean left after a cup of coffee, but Annie and Harriet sat up talking for a couple of hours before going to bed.

Annie told her everything, starting from her audition at drama school and what Roger Keats had done to her that day. ‘All that first term I was waiting for him to start on me again,’ she whispered, shivering.

‘Why didn’t you tell someone? How could you be so stupid? You should have told your mother.’

‘I was too scared. I didn’t know why exactly, then, I hadn’t worked it out, but later I realised that I knew that if I told anyone about Mr Keats I’d have to leave the school. I couldn’t have stayed there afterwards, and I couldn’t do that to my mother. She was desperate for me to be a success, it was all she dreamt about.’

‘But you did, eventually?’

Annie closed her eyes. ‘I had to, he told me to come to his room after school, and I knew what would happen if I went. I couldn’t do it. Not only because I would have hated it, but because by then I’d met Johnny.’

‘Johnny?’ asked Harriet, eyes widening.

Her voice dreamy, Annie said, ‘He was our lodger here – we fell in love that spring.’

‘Ah!’ said Harriet half to herself. ‘The father of the baby?’

Annie’s face changed. She gave a short, painful sigh. ‘Yes.’

Harriet said, ‘You know, I often wondered if there’d ever been a man in your life. You never mentioned one and you were always so obsessed with work, I never saw you taking anyone seriously, I wondered if you were just plain frigid. Or cold, anyway.’

Annie blushed. ‘Well, we never know much about ourselves, do we? But I certainly wasn’t cold with Johnny; I was crazy about him. I remember right at the beginning I used to sneak into his room when he was out just to lie on his bed and read romantic poetry, imagining how wonderful it would be if he was there, too. And then one day he came back and caught me.’

Harriet laughed. ‘And did he join you on the bed?’

Annie laughed, too, shaking her head. ‘No, it was months before we actually made love. We were both very young, Harriet. We were wildly romantic, both of us.’ There was a little silence, then she went on, ‘That was why I’d have died rather than let Roger Keats touch me again. Not once I’d fallen in love with Johnny. That changed my whole life. So I had to deal with Roger Keats, do something to stop him.’

Harriet watched the determined set of her face, the fierceness in the blue eyes. Annie was a strange mixture of vulnerability and strength, that was what made her such a powerful actress. She could be ruthless and single-minded in her pursuit of what she felt necessary for a scene, and yet there was this underlying gentleness which contradicted that.

‘What exactly did you do?’ Harriet slowly asked.

‘I went to the school governors and because they needed proof I set him up, I went to his room as he’d ordered, but I left the door a little ajar, and the governors heard everything we said.’

Harriet involuntarily wrinkle

d her nose and Annie flushed, looking unhappy.

‘I know. It wasn’t very pleasant. But it was either him or me – I had no choice. They sacked him, and the next year I got a Valentine’s card from him with a very scary message in it – and he’s been sending them every year ever since. That was bad enough, then this year he actually got in here, broke into my home during the night.’