Page 48 of Her Last Walk Home

‘What did you do to my tiles?’

She couldn’t answer even if she’d wanted to, which she didn’t.

‘Answer me!’

Now she faced the woman so she could see her duct-taped lips.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re totally stupid. Just like him.’ The woman marched forward and tore the tape away, causing a painful tingle on her cracked lips, then stood and scrutinised her.

‘It was an accident,’ she croaked.

The woman ran her finger down the wall and smelled it. ‘Eggs. You threw eggs at my wall, didn’t you?’

‘N-no. Y-yes. S-sorry.’

‘Youwillbe sorry when I finish with you. Clean it up. I want it sparkling and smelling of lemons. Do you understand plain English?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘Well then, why are you standing there with your gob hanging open? Get to work.’

The young woman returned to her task. Reaching into the sink with the cloth, she felt a sharp pain on the back of her head as the woman struck her forcefully. She wanted to cry out, but instead she bit down on her lips until they bled. When the presence disappeared from behind her, she rinsed the cloth and got back to work.

She wondered if she would ever escape, but that was the wrong thought. She had to concentrate onwhen, notif.

39

It was almost eleven a.m. when Shannon woke up. Her thumping head and the ache in her stomach was the result of consuming too much alcohol and not enough food. Easing her feet to the floor, she averted her eyes from the tangle of clothes strewn around the room. A glimpse at the mascara-streaked pillow told her she had fallen asleep without removing her make-up.

And then she remembered.

The uneasy feeling of being followed home.

She thought of phoning Jess to tell her about it, but then remembered Jess would be at work. Work!

‘Oh no,’ she groaned. George was so annoyed with her that he hadn’t woken her for work. Another sick day wouldn’t go down well with her manager, much as she hated working as a cleaner in the hospital. Maybe she should check in with the escort agency to see if anyone had been matched with her.

She scrambled around under her pillow until she found her phone. Dead. With aching limbs she searched for the charger. Still in the socket on the wall. She plugged in the phone and waited. As it came to life, she saw the day and date appear. Saturday. No work. Thank God.

Curling up on the bed, phone in hand, she was unable to dislodge the feeling she’d had on the way home last night. And then there was that shadow outside the front door. Should she tell George? No, she’d have to pay him back first. She was afraid to ask him what she owed. No doubt he’d throw the figure around throughout the day.

Once the phone had enough charge, she watched the screen light up with notifications, missed calls and messages.

‘What the hell?’ She opened her eyes wide, wondering what was going on.

The notifications were from Facebook and Instagram. But the missed calls and messages were all from Jess.

She read through the texts frantically.

John Morgan was dead. How? When?

She scanned the rest of Jess’s messages. They mainly consisted of questions.Where are you? Answer your phone? Did you hear? Reply asap. Come on. Is it the John you knew? He’s dead. Murdered.

She reread the last message.

Murdered.

Her hands shook uncontrollably. She dropped the phone on the bed. What was going on? The only thing she knew with certainty was that she was terrified.

---