Chapter 1: THEN - The Safe Room

On the first of August, 2007, the boy with gentle nutmeg eyes lured me and my sister into his car.

I’ll never understand what he saw in me, an awkward fifteen-year-old girl with a stringy chocolate fringe and bowed shoulders, over Honey, seventeen, tall and golden like the subject of a Pre-Raphaelite painting. But Peter’s eyes locked on mine through the rearview window several times over the course of our short journey home. When Honey turned her head to gaze out of the window, he winked at me, and my body burned all over.

It was the hottest day of the year, and Honey had whinged and whined to our parents about taking me to the swimming baths for the morning.

She shoved her feet into battered Adidas trainers and scowled at me. “I hope you know you’re ruining my life.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, annoyed I couldn’t think of anything wittier.

Her complaints continued as she yanked her shoelaces into a tight knot. “I could be out with my boyfriend instead of babysitting you. God, I hate Mum for making me do this.”

I rolled my eyes, pretending her words didn’t hurt my feelings. “Whatever. Everyone knows Oliver cheated on you anyway.”

She stood up and grabbed my hair, shoving me back into the corridor wall, a rain jacket falling onto my head from the rack above.

“Girls!” Dad yelled. “That’s enough.”

Our eyes dropped immediately. Even in the midst of a bitch-fight we knew when to turn off the righteous anger. Mum’s shout was one thing, but Dad? When he’d had enough then there was trouble. Usually involving going upstairs or facing his ‘disappointed face’ for several hours.

“Now come on.” He grabbed the rain jacket and replaced it. “It’s the school holidays and beautiful weather out there. Make the most of it.” He tried to lighten the mood with a smile. “At least you two aren’t going to work. A few hours in a stuffy office and you’d wish you had all this freedom.”

We stood sullenly, staring at him. Neither of us cared about it being the school holidays. Honey was thinking about how she could be spending the morning with her on-again-off-again first love, and I was thinking about how dumpy I would look in my black swimming costume compared to Honey in her purple bikini. As we made our way out, Dad held me back for a second.

“Amber, love, don’t take it personally. Your sister does love you, you know.”

I nodded, but I thought he was dead wrong. Just yesterday Honey had dug her manicured nails into my arm for borrowing her laptop. When I used her hair straighteners, she shoved me out of her room and slammed the door in my face. But I did hear her crying when I stood outside and felt an unexpected pull of sympathy.

Oliver was treating her like crap, messing around with Janine Thompson, and I wanted the courage to scream at him like Dad would. But I didn’t have it. And, yeah, I definitely should have kept my mouth shut rather than make a dig about the whole scenario.

I had to run to catch Honey up as she strode towards the bus stop. She didn’t say a word to me the whole bus ride. Sure, she could be a bitch to me, but I didn’t have to throw the cheating in her face like that.

At the swimming baths we changed in silence before heading to the pool. It was busy. I found a gap between two OAPs and started on laps while Honey hung around in the shallow end, pouting.

That was when I saw him. Peter Harlow.

He was the son of Mum’s work colleague, Mary. They worked at the local Tesco together, both on the tills usually. About ten years ago Mary’s husband had died in a car accident and Mum started visiting Mary every Sunday for coffee and cake, sometimes taking me and Honey with her. We’d played with Peter, who was four years older than me, two years older than Honey. I remember him being bossy, the kind of kid who folded his arms and stuck out his bottom lip when he didn’t get his way.

That had been my first impression of Peter long ago but in the swimming pool, I noticed something else. He had a thin face and angular cheekbones. He was skinny and pale, but in that teen movie star way. The kind of nineteen-year-old boy that makes fifteen-year-old girls blush. I hesitated in my lane and almost bumped into one of the OAPs, who tutted at me. I whispered an apology and moved out of the way.

There was something approachable about Peter’s eyes. They were soft, friendly. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me. His gaze lingered for a moment, but he continued swimming and so did I. It was a normal interaction. I’d been attracted to him, and he’d paid me very little attention.

I often think back to that moment. I wonder what went through his mind when I smiled at him. Did he know his own power? If he did, is that feeling what he’s been chasing for almost twenty years?

When I reached the shallow end, Honey jutted out a chin in Peter’s direction. “Is that Mary Harlow’s son?”

“Yeah. Peter.”

“He’s quite fit now.” She placed a fingernail between her front teeth and gawked at Peter’s lithe body travelling through the water. “Don’t get any ideas, Amber. He’s too old for you. Dad would have a fit.”

I frowned. “Fuck off.”

She laughed then and pushed me jokingly on the shoulder. “Look at you with the big girl language.”

I splashed her, aiming straight at her face, not in a friendly way, but it still had Honey laughing and splashing back until the lifeguard blew his whistle at us both and my cheeks grew hot with shame. Even Peter lifted his head over to look at us in amusement as the whistle blew and Honey waved at him.

“You literally have a boyfriend,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, well he kissed Janine so whatever.”

I sensed something more emotional and vulnerable opening up within my sister and pounced on it. “Are you going to dump him?”

She shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Why not? He’s a dick.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You’re too young to understand what it’s like. You’ve never had a boyfriend.”

I felt the twist of the knife. Honey just had to remind me that I was a virgin while she wasn’t.

“Fine,” I snapped. “We can go back if you want. You’ve done what Mum told you to do so whatever.”

She turned to me sharply and narrowed her eyes. “If that’s what you want.”

I nodded, glancing away before she saw the tears, filled with too much pride to show that this whole thing had hurt my feelings. Her not wanting to spend time with me, the shove, her mocking my language and her flirty little wave to Peter.

Honey hauled herself out of the pool without using the steps, and I noticed Peter’s head turn to watch. I swam over to the steps, not wanting to make a fool out of myself, and hurried out, gazing down at my feet, not at Peter. Then I shuffled along to the changing rooms feeling like every single eyeball in the pool was watching me. Though now I know that only two were watching me that day. Fifteen-year-old me would be delighted, but the woman I am now understands danger.

We saw Peter again on the way to the bus stop. He must have exited the pool just moments after us, changed, watched us leave, and got in his car. I never thought anything of it at the time. Not even when he slowed down to a crawl and called over.

“Honey, isn’t it? And Amber? Lisa’s daughters?”

I watched my sister straighten her back and plaster on a huge smile. “Yeah. We saw you in the pool.”

“Haven’t seen you two for years.” He laughed. “Remember when we played Mario Kart in my bedroom?”

“I remember the paddy you threw every time I beat your ass,” Honey replied, adding some sass into her voice.

“Do you guys want a lift? It’s on my way home,” he offered.

Honey tucked a lock of hair behind one ear and approached the car. “You’re a lifesaver, man. We’re dying out here, it’s so fucking hot.”

I noted the way her voice sounded deeper now, more grown-up. She wanted to sound like Peter’s peer. But I knew my place. I knew I was the kid sister. I got into the back seat before anyone even asked me to.

Peter smiled at me. “All right?”

I just nodded and glanced away, but Peter carried on gazing at me for a few extra seconds. I felt the blush creeping up my collarbone and neck. What was wrong with me? All this over eye contact and a smile?

Honey started asking him questions about his mum as Peter pulled away from the pavement. Then the conversation moved on to what Peter did for work. He was studying at college, about to start an engineering apprenticeship, apparently still living with his mum but searching for a cheap flat to rent in town.

“How old are you now, Amber?” His brown eyes found mine in the mirror. His voice softened when he spoke to me.

“Fifteen,” I said.

“Still a baby, aren’t you Amby Pamby?” Honey grinned.

“Nah,” Peter said. “You’re not a baby, are you?”

I shook my head. I wanted to blurt something impressive out, like how I was starting GCSEs soon or to tell him about the Shakespeare play I just finished reading, but I had no idea what would impress him.

“Have you got a boyfriend?” he asked.

“No,” I said, staring out of the window.

Honey scoffed. “She’s too young for boyfriends.”

Peter laughed. “Don’t be so ridiculous. Didn’t you have a boyfriend at fifteen?”

“Yeah, but⁠—”

“Exactly!” Peter grinned at me. “Bet you get sick of her treating you like a baby, right?”

I laughed. “Yeah, she’s such a bitch.”

Honey’s mouth dropped in shock. “What the fuck, Amber?”

“Stop being a bitch then.”

Peter laughed and because I sensed it was at Honey’s expense, I joined in eagerly. I was so eager to please, so desperate to seem cool in this man’s eyes.

“You’re really pretty, Amber,” Peter said.

I didn’t respond, instead I bit my lip and felt my body burn. Then he winked at me.

Honey just stared out of the window.

Later that day I’d replayed the words over and over in my mind. You’re really pretty, Amber. I was on cloud nine.

I’m sure this car ride haunts Honey exactly like it haunts me, now. The hard edge of his grin, the meanness just underneath his smarmy exterior, the fact that both of us were too young and inexperienced to truly see it. Honey has alluded to the fact that she noticed red flags right away, but neither of us expected what came next. How could we?

A true psychopath entered our lives that day, and we missed every warning.