The Back Road - By Rachel Abbott Page 0,1

out with her bound bare feet against the wooden cupboard door. And she kept kicking. She heard a shout of surprise and a growl of anger from the room beyond, and the door was wrenched open. A man with a huge red face and a fat blue nose leered down into the small opening of the cupboard, his trousers and a pair of dirty white underpants round his ankles.

Finally, she had met The Grunter.

1

Day One: Friday

Ellie Saunders took a couple of onions out of the vegetable rack, and started to peel them. Cooking always soothed her, and tonight she needed to do something to stop her mind from wandering. Not that chicken liver paté required much concentration; she could probably make it in her sleep. But it was better than staring at the walls and wondering what was happening elsewhere.

‘Stop it Ellie,’ she muttered out loud. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’ She chopped the onions with more force than was entirely necessary, and ripped off a piece of kitchen roll to wipe her streaming eyes.

Transferring the chicken livers from their plastic bag to a plate, Ellie jumped as her mobile started to vibrate on the worktop next to her.

Her breath caught, and her arm froze in mid-air. She knew without looking who it would be. Should she answer? Would it be worse to speak to him, or to ignore him? She didn’t want to speak to him ever again, but couldn’t predict what he would do if she started to avoid him altogether.

Snapping out of her momentary paralysis, she wiped her hands nervously on a tea towel and picked up the phone.

‘Hello,’ she said softly.

‘Why are you crying, Ellie?’

He was here. Ellie nearly dropped the phone as her eyes flew in panic to the huge bi-folding glass doors that lined one wall of the kitchen, leading out to the side of the house. But the combination of the stormy skies and the brightly lit room made it impossible to see into the murky depths of the garden beyond.

The voice continued.

‘I’m watching you. I love watching you cook. But don’t be sad. It’s going to be okay, I promise you.’

Ellie’s heart pounded but she tried not to let her voice waver. ‘I’m not crying, and I’m not sad. Where are you? Please - you shouldn’t be here. There’s nothing more to say. I’ve said it all before.’

There was a sigh of exasperation from the other end of the phone.

‘Why don’t you let me in, and we can talk? I’m right here.’

The voice was quiet and persuasive, but Ellie shivered in fear. She turned her back on the window so that her expression would be hidden from the watcher in the grounds. He mustn’t see that he was getting to her.

‘Of course I can’t let you in. Max will be home any minute now. Please don’t do this. Please.’

A quiet tutting sound told her everything she needed to know, even without him speaking.

‘You know he’s not going to be home for a long time yet. He’s at the party - and he’s with her. We both know that. I’ve seen him with her, Ellie. It’s obvious to a blind man how close they are. But I’m here for you, darling. I would never hurt you like he’s doing. So let me in. I just want to touch you and hold you.’ He laughed gently and his voice dropped an octave. ‘What I’d really like to do is lick your silky skin and cover every inch of your body with my lips. You taste delicious, do you know that? The velvety smooth texture of your flesh reminds me of Italian ice-cream. Hazelnut, I think. Cool on the lips, a dark creamy colour, and a slight nutty flavour. Let me in so I can taste you again.’

‘No!’

Ellie slammed the phone down on the worktop, and leaned against her hands, which were the only things stopping her from collapsing. What would she give to be able to crumple to the floor and lie there until this was all over? But he was watching, and she had to stop showing weakness.

She could hear the tinny echo of his voice through the phone, but couldn’t make out the words. She had to end this, once and for all.

She picked up the phone again.

‘Listen,’ she said, in what she hoped was a firm and decisive tone. ‘I love my husband. What happened between us was nothing - just a mistake. Please, please leave me alone.’

She was hoping for anger or