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| About the Book |
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| read an excerpt |
Seconds had passed while Kate held her breath, terrified of alerting her creepy follower and now her lungs were about to explode. At last, she dared to inhale, then counted to sixty before attempting a cautious peek over the rim of the skip, her stomach clenching at the sight of him pacing to and fro at the end of the alley.
Kate’s grip on the cold metal rim tightened, turning her knuckles white. It was definitely the same guy. Under the glare of the sodium streetlight he was easy to recognise with his leather jacket and distinctive shoulder-length hair. She swiftly ducked back down.
It seemed longer, but it was probably only a couple of minutes before she risked taking another peek. He was still there, peering up and down the street like someone who had lost his way. He was ignoring the narrow passage behind him – the location of her hiding place. Exactly what she’d gambled on. After all, what woman in her right mind would choose to run into a dark alley?
At last, he pulled out his phone and made a call; too far away to hear what was being said, Kate continued to watch him as he gesticulated with angry, jerky movements. Finishing his call, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and stalked out of Kate’s view.
Kate slumped down in a heap like a deflated balloon. Her heart was still hammering and it was several minutes before she was able to calm down and take in her surroundings.
How on earth had she vaulted over the rim of the skip? Mirth, fuelled by shock, bubbled to the surface. Fear had given her wings…either that or her gym sessions were paying off at last. She prodded a broken brick with her foot and quickly sobered up. A mattress covered the broken glass and builders’ rubble – her landing could have been very nasty.
The evening had started so well. She’d been out for a final drink with the girls. Her official leaving party had been held a few days before and had been a much more sedate affair. Well, one couldn’t invigilate a reading room in Oxford University’s Bodleian Library when three sheets to the wind. After tonight’s event, sore heads were definitely on the cards in the morning for several of her girlfriends. But Kate had stuck to drinking sparkling water after the first couple of glasses of Pinot Grigio, knowing that she needed a clear head. There was a lot of packing to do before Monday.
She’d spotted the guy early on, thinking he was one of the usual after-work crowd, but he’d remained apart, not speaking to any of the other guys lounging and joking at the bar. Leaning with one elbow on the counter, a foot hooked round a bar stool, he occasionally swigged his beer…and never took his eyes off her. Every time she looked over, he was watching… Not smiling, but staring.
At first, she was flattered; he was not bad-looking with his long floppy hair, smooth features, expensive leather jacket, and designer jeans. But she’d grown more uncomfortable as the evening wore on and he made no move to engage her in conversation. Emily had noticed too.
'You’ve got a fan,’ she’d giggled, nudging Kate in the ribs and indicating with her eyes to where he stood. ‘He’s been staring for ages. Wonder why he doesn’t come over.’
‘Me too. Probably shy. Anyway, I’m not interested. I’m off men, as you well know.’ Kate pulled a face. Yes, definitely off men. Robin had seen to that.
She’d avoided looking over at the bar for the next thirty minutes and it was only when she stood up to leave that she realised the guy had disappeared. It was her chance to slip away.
It took a while to say her goodbyes. There were tearful hugs, slurred demands to stay in touch, and much giggling when Emily fell over a bar stool, laddering her tights and upsetting somebody’s pint.
After making sure her friend was all right, Kate finally made it outside and breathed a sigh of relief. The cool evening air was a pleasant contrast to the stuffy, beer-fume-filled pub. Her mellow mood didn’t last long. By the time she’d walked up High Street and on to Cornmarket, prickles up her neck told her something was wrong. Pushing aside her uneasy feeling as imagination, Kate paused outside Gap to inspect the window display. A sideways glance alerted her to a figure hovering in a nearby shop doorway. Even though he was partly obscured by the milling passers-by crowding the pavement, she knew it was him by the shoulder-length hair and leather jacket.
Thinking quickly, she decided that this could be her chance to shake him off. She spun round and strode briskly up Cornmarket towards the Martyrs’ Memorial and St Giles; at the junction with Broad Street, she veered left into George Street. That’s when she’d started to sprint, planning to shake him off amongst the gaggles of students heading back to halls, and the throngs of patrons pouring out of the New Theatre. Darting into the alley – a familiar shortcut during daylight hours – had been a good decision. Spotting the skip and leaping in had been inspired.
Kate waited another fifteen minutes before hauling herself back onto the cobbled pavement. There was no point in taking chances; he might still be hanging around. Rapidly brushing the worst of the brick dust from her jeans, she set off on ungainly legs, wincing as her foot hit something slimy. There was a taxi rank at Gloucester Green. She could afford a cab now, thanks to her godmother.
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| The story of the events that led to The Battle of Hastings in 1066 Harold the King (UK edition) I Am The Chosen King (US edition) AND 1066 Turned Upside Down an anthology of 'What If'' 1066 tales  |
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