Twelve ~ Evelyn

Heidi gobbles another chunk of sausage and toast.

She adores the greasy cafe opposite my flat. So, she'll drag me in here whenever she's round.

I enjoy the food, but it always makes me feel bloated afterwards, so I limit my visits.

It has been two weeks since Heidi sent me the article. It gossiped about the tech billionaire checking out the technology infused golf course "with friends".

The picture focused on Nick and Adrian with me in the background.

To my relief, it hasn't gone any further since.

But if I started to repetitively crop up in photos, someone would probably ask a question or two.

So distance is safe.

Even if I lose a coat. When I called the golf place, they explained Adrian had collected and taken both coats.

I'm not convinced I have the self restraint required to call let alone see him to pick up my coat.

Heidi likes to remind me that she thinks I'm overreacting whenever she finds me spaced out. But, there's just too much at stake.

"Bacon to Eve" Heidi calls, waving a hand in front of my face. "How's your lit review coming?"

"It's getting there, yours?" It's currently moving slower than a snail. I'll read a whole paragraph before realising I didn't take any of it in.

"I'm about to start writing the main bit, but it's dull as hell." She groans before scooping up some scrambled eggs. "I can't wait to graduate!"

That I can agree with her on. I can't wait for the relief of finally being done.

"Yup, do you have any plans for the summer?"

"Me and Adam are going to Disneyland Paris in July" She's practically singing.

"Celebrating in style then."

We discuss our summer plans before moving onto Easter. We have a two-week week holiday from Friday.

I'm not doing much apart from spending time with my family and writing my literature review. But, at least I won't have to juggle shifts as well.

Heidi is going back home to see her family with Adam as she hasn't seen them in a month or so.

"Are you working later?" Heidi asks between mouthfuls.

"Yeah, I'm on a three till three out of Fulham"

"That's really out of area for you?"

"Our crewmate is sick, apparently it's the only station with someone else needing a crewmate."

As a student, I don't count as an official member of staff. So I have to be with two staff members. Tonight that means going to Fulham.

I'm excited, it will be my first time working out of central London. I can't wait to zoom past landmarks.

And zoom we did. We weaved through pedestrians on Oxford street, our lights bounced off the thames and our sirens deafened Buckingham palace.

It was beautiful and thrilling.

But now it's three in the morning and I'm heading home.

I waddle through the hushed London streets, basking in the alternative perspective of the capital. My kit bag is nearly as big as me and weighs a tonne, so it throws me off balance as I walk.

But I think my steel toecap boots really bring the look together.

The walk to Fulham Broadway station isn't horrendous, but I'll be happy to dump this bag on the floor whilst waiting for the train.

"No!" I couldn't hold back my exasperated complaint.

The station's concertina shutters showed the station was very much closed. The last train must have left early.

After a few moments sulking, I get my act together.

I head further down the road to the bus stop. Plonking my bag down, I check the timetable.

Thirty-four minutes until the next night-bus.

I settle onto the sloping bench. I opt against headphones when outside at the hour, so I read instead.

A few pages in, black trainers with electric blue soles enter my peripherals.

I look up to find a tall yet slender man standing in the opposite corner of the bus stop. He's wearing black jeans and a matching hoodie, which partially occludes his face.

I can't see his eyes, but his posture suggests he may be looking down in my direction.

I convince myself that my anxiety's playing mind games and try to go back to my book.

A page later, his shuffling draws my attention. He has retrieved his phone, but then he…

He starts looking between me and his phone.

After prolonged repetition I decide it's odd. Like he's comparing me to something on his phone.

Getting increasingly more self aware I try to act focused on my book.

Fun fact, a woman's peripheral vision is greater than a man's. This makes it easier for me to track his movements discretely.

Two minutes later, he angles his phone awkwardly. Not a position you'd choose to use your phone in.

The rabbit bounces back into my chest.

He's pointing his camera at me.

I don't want to stick around to find out why.

I slowly get up and examine the map behind me. I monitor his reflection, his head has turned in my new position.

Trying not to act out, I pretend to choose a new route home before picking up my bag and heading back towards the station.

I need to stay on the main road. At the very least, it's well lit.

I try not to let my pace run away with my heart rate. The last thing I want to do is draw more unwanted attention to myself.

Using my phone, I check behind me.

Two minutes later, he begins walking in the same direction.

Okay, what are normal reasons for walking away from a bus stop you've been waiting at?

Your bus arrives, not a possibility. You get a different mode of transport. The station in my direction is closed, the other probably closed station is in the opposite direction and a taxi would have stopped near the bus stop. Unlikely. You meet someone and leave together. No one else is in view.

I take a shaky breath, I can't find a logical explanation. There are too many coincidences.

Keep calm and focus Evelyn. What's the plan?

If I call the police it'll be obvious and may instigate an advancement. Knowing current dispatch times, it could be fifteen minutes before anyone is even sent.

So many things could go wrong in that time.

I need to be careful. He's easily a foot taller than me and I'm no athlete.

So let's use our brain, who could I contact?

Leaving my phone at waist level, I call the only person I know who lives north of the river.

I let it ring out and go again. I'm only trying to wake them and get their attention, I don't want them to answer.

After hanging up, I send a message.

"I think someone's following me. I'm heading down the main road towards Fulham Broadway. Please help."

Lugging this bag with short legs means the man's pace is faster and he's closed the distance slightly.

My breathing tries to push past my control into fight or flight acceleration. But, he would notice the exaggerated movements that accompany an increased work of breathing.

So, I count my steps, matching my breathing pattern to every fifth step.

Please see my text!