Page 107 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Go on then,” Devan said. “Hit me. Plenty of witnesses. I’ll have your arse in jail before you can—”
“Stop it.” Jonty pulled at Devan’s arm. “Brad, go away. Give this up. Stop pestering me.”
“All I have to do is wait for this pathetic twat to fuck off home. You’re mine.”
“No, I am not,” Jonty snapped. “You had your chance and you fucked up. You hurt me. I’m not into that shit.”
“I put photos of us online.”
Oh God.
“And I wouldn’t have been smiling in any of them. Take them off and let this go.”
Brad shook his head and walked away.
“Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-oh-God.” Jonty shuddered by Devan’s side.
Devan held him tight. “Call the police.”
“What’s the point?”
“They need to know that he’s still bothering you. You should have told them exactly what he did to you five months ago. Then they’d see how serious it is.”
Jonty pulled away and Devan tugged him back.
“Sorry,” Devan whispered. “Fuck it. I’m sorry. The guy is freaking me out. I’m worried for you. I don’t know how to protect you.”
Jonty nestled into Devan’s side, pressing his face into Devan’s chest. “I want to get out of here. Please.”
“What car does he drive?”
“A silver Audi. Why?”
“I want to be sure he doesn’t follow us to the house.”
“Shit.” Jonty took off his jacket and got into the car.
In London, it would have been fairly easy to lose someone tailing you—unless it was the police—because there was as much chance of it happening by accident as by design. But in Alnwick, there wasn’t enough traffic to hide in, nor enough lights to nip through, or one-way streets to quickly turn down. Nor did Devan know the roads well enough.As if I know anything about evasive manoeuvring.He drove around aimlessly while keeping an eye on the mirror. Every silver car he saw made his pulse jump.
“Pity he doesn’t drive an orange Beetle,” Jonty mumbled.
“Yep. I think we’re okay. We need to go and get your stuff from Mike’s. Want to give him a call?”
“He gave me a key, but I’d like my board and wetsuit from the shop. I’m going to give them one of the bottles of wine as a thank you.”
“Good idea.”
“Take the second road on the right. Then left at the next traffic lights.” Jonty tapped into his phone. “Hi Mike. You at home or the shop…? Okay, then can you bring my board and wetsuit back to your place? I’ve got somewhere to stay so I’m going to collect my stuff and get out of your hair… No…Yep… About fifteen minutes… See you.”
“We’re not going to get the surfboard in the car.”
“What a crap car.”
Devan laughed.
“I’ll try to persuade Mike to drive out with it. But really, what a crap car! It sounds like it’s coughing up a hairball when you start it.”
“Don’t criticise my car. She’s temperamental.”
