The Victim. G.D. Sanders

frustrated that the exchange was going in circles. ‘Your behaviour is intolerable. Give me the keys you’re holding and get out of my home.’

      He slowly returned the keys to his pocket.

      ‘I’d rather stay.’

      ‘Give me those keys and leave immediately!’

      ‘But the champagne, the photographs—’

      ‘There’s no question of photographs. You can take the champagne with you.’

      ‘Let’s not be hasty, Georgina. I may call you Georgina?’

      ‘It’s Ms Hamilton to you. Now, give me those keys and go.’

      He remained standing by the kitchen table. Gina’s mind was racing. A new thought struck her.

      ‘Wait a minute. This morning I set the burglar alarm. Just now, when I came in the alarm sounded and I cancelled it at the pad. The alarm was set but you were in the flat.’

      ‘As I said, you invited me in. You gave me a code for the alarm. I used my code to enter the flat, reset the alarm and came to the kitchen before the alarm activated. There are no sensors in the kitchen.’

      This man had an answer for everything. Why was he here? When she came home to find him sitting at the table her initial fright had quickly been replaced by anger. Now a growing sense of frustration that he wouldn’t leave was morphing into an ominous apprehension. Whatever he wanted she must get him out of the flat before things slipped further from her control.

      ‘Give me the refund, give me the extra set of keys and get out!’

      ‘Georgina …?’

      ‘Leave now before I call the police.’

      ‘Don’t do that, Georgina. What harm can there be in a glass of champagne?’

      ‘I’ve asked you repeatedly to leave my home. Leave at once or I’ll call the police.’

      He began to move round the table.

      ‘And leave the keys.’

      He stopped, opened the fridge and took out a bottle of champagne.

      ‘And take your bottle with you.’

      ‘It’s vintage.’

      ‘Give me the keys and leave.’

      He began to open the bottle.

      ‘Right, I’m calling the police.’ Gina turned back to the hall. He made no move to stop her. She heard the cork pop behind her as she went to the telephone on the hall table.

      ‘Where are the glasses?’

      Gina began to dial 999.

      ‘No matter, I’ll find them myself.’

      Two rings and then that reassuring voice: ‘Which service do you require? Fire, police, or ambulance?’

      ‘Police. And please …’

      The line went dead. Gina froze and began to panic until the connection went through.

      ‘Canterbury Police Station: please state your name and address.’

      ‘There’s a man in my apartment. He won’t leave. Please, send somebody – quickly!’

      ‘Calm down, Miss. First, your name, you are …?’

      ‘Ms Hamilton, Georgina Hamilton. There’s a man here and he—’

      ‘Let’s take it slowly, Miss Hamilton. Your address is …?’

      ‘Apartment 32, Great Stour—’

      ‘Apartment 32, Great Stour Court, Canterbury, CT2 7US.’

      ‘Yes. There’s a man—’

      ‘You say there’s a man in your apartment—’

      ‘Yes, and—’

      ‘—and he refuses to leave. He’s used copies of your keys to access your home and—’

      ‘Yes, how did you know?’

      ‘—he’s offering you a glass of champagne.’

      Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Gina felt her body turn cold. Her mind struggled to grasp what was happening. Words continued to come from the receiver. She recognized the voice. The phone slipped from her hand to the floor. She heard glasses clink in the kitchen. He came into the hall. Her feeling of disbelief turned to horror as he walked towards her. She had to get away. She had to get out of the flat.

      Gina rushed to the front door, turned the latch and pulled. The door remained shut. She grabbed her keys from the hall table. He made no move to stop her. Back at the door she searched frantically for the correct key. She felt her panic increasing with each fumble, and the cold tension between her shoulder blades returned. She had turned her back on him. Any second, he could attack her. At last, Gina got the right key and pushed it into the internal lock. It wouldn’t turn. She pulled it out, checked it was the right key and tried again. Still it refused to turn. The feeling between her shoulder blades was unbearable. Tearful and shaking with fear and frustration Gina turned to face the intruder.

      ‘What’s happening? What’s happened to the lock? What have you done?’

      Standing calmly in front of her, he held out a glass of champagne. ‘All in good time. Have a drink. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

      ‘I’m not afraid. Open this door!’

      ‘Come –’ he gestured with the champagne glass ‘– let’s take it slowly.’

      That voice … let’s take it slowly … the telephone. It was the same voice as the policeman. How could he do that? She had dialled 999! Gina turned back to the door and tried the key again. No use. She pulled frantically at the latch but in vain. The door remained shut. She dropped her useless keys and beat on the door with her fists.

      ‘Help! Help! In here. Please, somebody, help me!’

      ‘Nobody will hear you.’

      Gina pulled off her shoe and hammered on the wall. The heel dug into the plaster. She screamed uncontrollably, beating at the wall with her shoe. Gradually her blows became weaker and her screams were broken by sobs.

      He stood calmly, holding the two glasses of champagne.

      The strength to scream deserted her and she convulsed with sobbing. The shoe fell from her hand. Her shoulders slumped and she leant against the wall.

      He remained at a distance, still making no move to approach her. Again, he proffered the glass of champagne.

      Gina continued to lean against the wall, her fear and panic joined by a feeling of total powerlessness. Vulnerable and defenceless, she forced herself to look at him, pleading.

      ‘What do you want?’

      ‘You … you to drink a glass of champagne with me. Come, let’s sit in the kitchen.’

      ‘Why are you doing this?’

      ‘Come, let’s have a drink. We’ll go to the kitchen and talk about it.’ He held out the glass. ‘We’ll talk as we drink the champagne.’

      Gina remained leaning against the wall. Although she barely had the strength to stand, her mind sought frantically for an escape.

      ‘My neighbours … they’ll be back soon.’

      He smiled. ‘Your neighbours are away for two weeks.’

      ‘I’m due to check in at Gatwick tomorrow. The tour company will miss me and raise the alarm.’

      ‘I cancelled the holiday. You’re here until I decide to let you go.’

      Gina barely registered what he said. She was flustered,