Chapter 19: THEN - The Safe Room

I gasped and stepped back from the window, hitting the bed with the backs of my calves. It was the middle of the night and he was still there, outside my bedroom. This seemed psychotic even for him. I considered that I might be wrong, that I’d seen a shadow from a lamp post or something, so I stepped closer again and peered down at the road below.

The row of terraces across the street were still, every curtain drawn. Pools of yellow lamplight spilled onto the tarmac, illuminating the figure staring up at me. A pale face in a long, black coat, his hair wet from rain, his eyes deep in shadow. I grabbed my camera with shaking hands and took a photo.

I didn’t know what to do. It was late and I hated the idea of waking up my parents, but I couldn’t just go to bed knowing he was out there. What if he climbed up the drainpipe and broke into my room? What if he smashed a window downstairs and killed my entire family? I sprinted across the hall to Mum and Dad’s bedroom and knocked quietly. The still of night hung over me. I felt like I was in a dream, not reality. Even in panic I felt horrible waking them.

“Mum?” I said, forcing myself to say the word loudly rather than whisper it.

“What’s going on?”

The response came from behind me, not from inside my parents’ bedroom. Honey was out of bed, rubbing her eyes.

“Peter Harlow is standing outside our house.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious?”

I nodded.

Honey’s cheeks flushed pink as a shadow crossed over her face. She rushed down the hallway before I could protest. Now any concern about decorum was gone. I banged on my parents’ door one more time before rushing to catch up with Honey. I had no idea what she was going to do but I knew deep down in my gut it wasn’t going to be good.

I caught up with her in the kitchen where she’d grabbed a knife from the block. My gaze was drawn straight to the blade. Fear crashed through my veins, cooling my body to ice.

“Honey, no! What are you⁠—”

She pushed me aside, shoving me against the kitchen counter.

“I’m ending this!” she said, striding purposefully into the hall. “It’s gone on long enough.”

“Stop!” I shouted, hurrying after her.

From upstairs I heard the sound of footsteps and saw Mum’s feet making their way down the stairs. Honey grabbed a set of keys from the bowl and unlocked the back door, storming out onto the pavement in her bare feet. I reached out to grab her arm, missing by millimetres.

Rain poured down onto Honey’s pyjamas as she rushed out into the night. I followed, trying to stay close, but terrified of what might happen. But as I moved closer, I saw Peter’s expression had turned from amusement to alarm as Honey approached with her weapon.

Good, I thought. Scare him. Let him be afraid for a change.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister!” Honey screeched, her shrill voice echoing down the road.

Peter lifted his hands up, half mockingly. “Or what? Are you gonna stab me?”

“If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

I’d never seen my sister’s eyes so ablaze with fury. She seemed unaware of anything around her, the rain, the hard ground beneath her feet, the lights flickering on in all the houses down the road. Curtains twitching as neighbours responded to the commotion.

Then Dad came rushing past, grabbing Honey by the bicep, wearing only his dressing gown and slippers. He made Honey move back towards the house while Peter began slinking away. In that moment it was like Dad realised exactly what was going on. He flipped from making sure Honey was safe, to comprehending the situation. My stalker was out there in the middle of the night, in the rain, watching me in my bedroom.

He lost it.

Dad flew at Peter, landing a heavy blow on the back of his head. Peter tumbled, almost falling, then turned towards my father. Dad raised his fist, ready to punch him a second time.

“Stay away from my daughters!” Dad yelled. “If you don’t, you’re a fucking dead man, you freak.”

But the dead man ran fast into the dark night rather than face another blow. He was afraid at last. A dog running away with its tail between its legs. In the distance, I saw the headlights of a blue car moving away. Peter Harlow had fled like the coward we all knew he was.

Walking back into the house, I heard the sound of my pulse thumping, the blood and adrenaline surging through me, but at the same time everything moved in slow motion. I couldn’t hear what Mum was saying, but I saw the tears in her eyes. I saw my dad walk through to the kitchen, sit at the table, and put his head in his hands. Honey calmly put away the knife and started to cry.

They knew what I didn’t know. Dad hit Peter on the back of the head. It wasn’t in self-defence, because Peter hadn’t threatened or come at any of us. It was, in the eyes of the law, unprovoked, and when we heard the sirens, Mum let out an, “Oh, no.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Honey said, still crying.

“Wh… what’s going on? Why…” I couldn’t form words, I just knew everyone was sad and upset about something different to me.

Then the door opened and two police officers traipsed in. Not PC Thomas and PC Long this time, two other officers.

“Go upstairs to bed, Amber,” Mum instructed.

Because I was afraid, I did what I was told. I paced around my bedroom until I heard the door open about ten minutes later. Then I watched the police lead Dad out of the house in handcuffs.

I sprinted downstairs, almost tripping over my feet, to see the two officers push my father into the back of the police car. When I turned to the rest of my family, they both stared at me with red-rimmed eyes.

“Why is Dad in handcuffs?” I asked.

“Amber, sweetheart, you should be upstairs⁠—”

“What’s going on?”

“Daddy assaulted Peter,” Honey mumbled. “He’s been arrested.”

I couldn’t believe it. Dad was the good guy, he was the hero, and he was the one in handcuffs. It didn’t make any sense.

I gawped at my sister, completely dumbfounded, but her eyes were unfocussed, gazing beyond me.

“This is all my fault,” I whispered.

Honey shook her head. “No, it’s mine. I took the knife…” Her chin wobbled and she turned away.

Those words floored me. I’d never once heard Honey take the blame for anything, but she did now, almost crumpling in on herself as she walked slowly back into the house. I locked the door behind us after Mum followed. One by one, we slumped down onto the sofa and sat in silence.

It was Peter’s fault but none of us said it out loud. We didn’t go to bed that night, instead we stayed up waiting for the phone to ring in case Dad needed us. After the sun came up, Dad returned home in a taxi we couldn’t really afford.

“I’ve been charged,” he said, pulling off his coat and boots. “There’ll be a trial.” Honey ran over to hug him, but I felt too ashamed, I stayed back, rubbing my forearms. “Don’t worry, girls, the police heard the whole story and they’re sure the court will be lenient. Your old dad won’t be going to prison.”

He seemed so relaxed that it put Honey at ease and soon some of her usual character came back. Mum fussed around making everyone breakfast and it was decided that no one would go to school that day.

But I couldn’t look at Dad. I felt sick. I couldn’t eat.

Later that day, it was PC Thomas who returned to gather all the evidence I’d been collecting against Peter. Dad encouraged me to give them everything because it might help his case. I handed over diary notes, text message logs, and the photographs I took of him lurking outside. It all felt so violating, like I was letting too many people into my life at once, like everyone had a pair of binoculars and they were all watching me squirm from afar.

“I think it’s time to give Mr Harlow an official warning,” the officer explained, raising two dark eyebrows. “Now, this is just a first step, but a lot of the time, it’s all that’s needed. We’ll visit Mr Harlow, warn him to leave you alone, and if he fails to do so, we’ll take the next step, which would be an arrest for harassment. If he is convicted, we can also put a criminal restraining order in place. Alternatively, if he isn’t convicted, there’s also a civil injunction under the Protection from Harassment Act, which is a way to get a restraining order without waiting for a trial.”

“What about Dad?” I asked, no longer caring about Peter. “What will help him?”

“What you’ve given me is a good start and will help his defence. The court will hear all about the extenuating circumstances your dad has been through and I’m sure that will help. But we’re concerned about you, Amber. We want to help you. So we’ll start with the warning, okay? And then see how things go.”

I remember staring into his dark eyes and feeling numb. All these words and pieces of paper, none of them seemed like things that would help me.

PC Thomas turned to my parents and began explaining how we could fit extra security systems to monitor the house.

Mum let out a hollow laugh and said, “How are we going to pay for all this?”

He had no answer to that. He was standing inside our council house. In fact, his cheeks flushed and when he left, I noticed the way he ducked his head, almost apologetically, as though he could barely look at me.

“Fucking useless,” Honey said, slamming the door behind him.

I glared at her. We needed the police on our side now that Dad had been charged, but I agreed with her. It felt like they were waiting for me to be bleeding on the street before they’d do anything.