Hurrying to catch up she moved her hands one over the other, the rope twisting and turning around corners unexpectedly,making her have to stop and fee... her way more slowly lest she lose it all together. More worryingly, she had the horrible sensation that she was being followed, hunted. Every now and again she felt cold breath against the back of her neck, her cheek. She tried to write it off as a draught, wind perhaps, but the way it touched her skin so specifically made her question her own. She really has no idea what she should do. Later, in the pub, she tells her best friend about the call. ‘Don’t go.’ Her friend is adamant this time. ‘This guy’s too weird. You’ll end up naked and dead in a ditch somewhere. If he calls again, go to the police and report him as a stalker.’ ‘That’s an awful thing to say. Anyway, he’s not a stalker. I gave him my number. Remember?’ ‘How d’you know he’s not a stalker who’d followed you to work? He’d been watching you pretty closely at the Brad,. More

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