I run for the taxi I can see in the distance. My legs skim across Leicester Square like never before, and a few steps behind me I can hear him screaming my name."
"Ella!" He yells for my attention, "Where are you going?"
Away. I'm going away. Because if I'm right about this (and I probably am), I
need to be as far away from this man as I can possibly get.
I reach the taxi to be greeted by a perplexed driver turning his double chin
towards me. I almost expect him to tell me to
get out and drive off with wheels spinning, and me left behind splattered with
mud.
"Er...where to?" He asks, before lifting his double chin to the guy running
after the taxi. "Should I wait for your friend?”
"No!" I shout, turning my head to see my dear date catching up. "Go! Please
drive!” I yell.
"WHERE TO?" he says, exhasperated.
Well, there’s no need for that attitude. Honestly, some people are so
impatient.
"Waterloo," and off we go.
As we drive away, I look behind me at my abandoned date and breathe a sigh of
relief. I see him finally stop to catch his breath, hands above his hips,
looking at me like I’ve gone insane.
People need to stop looking at me like that. It’s doing nothing for my self confidence.
"I won't be associated with some sort of crime, will I?" The driver speaks
through the rear view mirror. All I see
is his double chin, which unfortunately has the same height as the rest of his
face.
"Umm, no," I responded rapidly reaching for my phone.
"Because if I am, I'll be very angry," chin wiggles in the mirror.
Why does he keep talking to me? Can't he see I'm clearly in distress and, oh
no, where's my phone? Please tell me I didn't leave it at the restaurant.
Please please, oh here it is just past my hair spray and left over pre-date
Subway.
I fumble around with my phone, forgetting which apps
lead to which programme, until I finally click on the right one where a list of names
pop up. Mikey – where on earth is
Mikey? And who are all these strange
people on my contacts list? Who’s
Elspeth?
As I realise that my phone needs more of a detox
than Peaches Geldolf in her good ol’ days, I finally click on Mikey and wait
impatiently as the phone rings.
Meanwhile,
taxi driver is muttering something under his breath. Oh dear!
I hope I haven’t run from one mad man only to be throwing myself into
another one.
“Seriously,
are you in some sort of trouble?” he turns towards me, ignoring the road ahead.
“Of
course not,”
“Then
what the bleedin’ ‘ell were you doing running like that? Nineteen years of cab driving and I’ve never
seen anything like that before,” I’m about to stop him, but he continues, “and
I’ve seen all sorts. Oh, the stories I
could tell…”
Oh
please, don’t tell! I have much more
important things to do right now.
Mikey
doesn’t pick up, so I try again. I’m
about to give up all hope and reach his house without warning, but try one last
time.
Hurrah! Success at last! The lazy bugger has picked up the phone.
“Hello,”
he sings in a sleepy voice. “You’ve just woken me up,”
“Woken
you up? Mikey, it’s nine o’ clock!”
“Oh,
is it?” he says after a pause. I can
hear a yawn before he speaks again. “I
must have napped,”
“Mikey,
I think I’m in trouble,”
“I
knew it!” explodes the driver,to which I quickly roll my eyes.
“You
know the guy I was set up with tonight?”
“Yeah.
Why? What have you done?”
Mikey bursts suddenly with an aggressive tone.
I think he’s fully awake now.
“No,
it’s nothing like that,” I stare out of the window as I ignore the rants of the
driver, and recollect my memories of the evening. “I’m pretty sure he’s the wanted murderer!” I whisper down the phone.
“Er,
the what?”
“You
know! The guy on Crimewatch last
night. The mass serial killer who I said
was too attractive to be a madman,”
He
laughs, which makes me want to cry.
“I’m
not making this up. I promise you. It’s him!”
Mikey
huffs down the phone. “Ok, Ella,” I can
hear him sit down with exhaustion. “Just
because he looks like him, doesn’t mean it’s him. Do you honestly think that killer on
Crimewatch, who by the way, looked illiterate, would be moonlighting as an
accountant?”
Oh,
he just doesn’t get it. Mikey is so
naïve sometimes. It’s like he doesn’t
switch on the news at all and lives in some sort of lala land with pixies and
sunshine.
“Mikey! Maybe he is a trained accountant. And maybe he really does work in London. And maybe he really did go to Thailand for
his gap year. And maybe he secretly
loves musicals. But none of these mean
that he’s not a murderer!”
The
car comes to a sudden stop as we hit a stand still. The driver has gone awfully quiet and I’m not
sure if it’s a good or bad thing.
“Traffic,
eh!” I try to joke, but he just nods his head.
No chin wobble or anything.
As
I put the phone back to my ear, Mikey is saying something.
“Sorry,
didn’t get a word of that,”
“Tell
me more about what happened tonight. How
soon after meeting him did you realise he was an escaped prisoner?”
“Not
escaped, Mikey. He hasn’t yet been
caught,”
“Yes,
whatever,”
“It’s
all a bit strange. I thought he looked
familiar immediately, but it’s the things he started doing that really drove it
home. For one, he kept saying he’s had a
lot of business in Wiltshire,”
“So?”
What is the point of watching TV
if he’s never going to listen to a word of it! Especially something like
Crimewatch. His life could be in danger
and he’d be oblivious. Lucky he has me
to warn him of all these dangers.
“That’s
where the crimes took place, Mikey,”
“Right. Er, so what else?”
“When
we sat down at the restaurant, he clutched at the knife,” I whisper, still
frightened at the thought of it.
“Was
he about to enjoy a nice, juicy steak?” a laugh escapes him. He needs to be told that laughing at your own jokes negates any funnyness.
“Mikey,
you’re not listening. It was the way he
was holding it – like he wanted to jab it into something,”
“Well,
if you were annoying him half as much as you annoy me, I wouldn’t blame him,”
another giggle.
Oh,
charming! I really want to hang up now. I’ve just experienced a traumatic event, have escaped from a wanted criminal by the skin of my teeth, and all my best friend wants to do is laugh at me?
“He
had madmen eyes!” I almost shout making the driver clear his throat uncomfortably.
“Traffic
still bad?” I ask the chin at the rear view mirror.
“Been
like this all week,”
I
turn back to my conversation, annoyed that Mikey can’t understand the severity
of the situation.
“So
you got out alive,” he continues. “What
exactly is the problem?”
Now,
this is when I’m too scared to even admit it to myself. I play around with the zip of my jacket as I look out at traffic London before responding. “Mikey, before it hit me that he was this
wanted murderer, I told him where I lived.
He’s probably at my house already. Waiting.”
“Ella,
you do understand the likelihood of all this, don’t you?”
“But
– “
“Just
think about all this for a second, just really stop and think. Would someone who is nationally well known as
a murderer, someone who is being hunted by police as we speak, be out in London
on a busy evening on a date?”
“If
you think about it, it’s probably the perfect disguise,” I'm losing faith in my own words.
“Wouldn’t
he be planning his escape out of the country?
Wouldn’t he be hiding in some grotty bunker?"
“Even
criminals need some time out,”
“Do
you honestly think he has the time to be out dilly dallying with dating?”
“Well,
I am adorable!”
I
can hear the fridge door being opened, bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling
on the other end. I instantly realise I’m
hungry, so dig out the remains of the three hour old Subway.
“So
how exactly did you leave it? I’m
guessing you didn’t give him a kiss goodbye,” Mikey speaks before swigging on
what can only be chocolate milk. Other
than his cat, this is his one and only weakness.
“I
ran,”
The
sound of chocolate milk being spat out.
“I’m
sorry, what?”
“…I
ran,” I say, less confident.
“What? You just legged it out of the restaurant?”
I
tut, “No of course not. I waited until
we were out of the door. And then I ran,”
“Where
to? And what did you do?”
I
take a bite out of the Subway. “Well,
luckily he stopped to open the restaurant door for someone as we were leaving,
so I seized my opportunity. If I haven’t,
you’d most likely be seeing my face on the news right now!” I chew as quickly as
I can. “I was a bit disorientated and
headed the wrong way at first, which didn’t help, but I luckily found a taxi
and got on. I’m still on it now,”
“What
did he do?”
“He
was resistant to drive me at first, but I think he’s warmed up to me now,” I
smile cheekily at the driver but am only ignored.
“I
meant your date. What did he do?”
“Oh. He chased after me,”
“I
think I’m going to stop being your friend.
Goodnight,”
“Mikey,
wait!”
No
one of the other end. Typical! Traffic is moving now, and within seconds I’m
at Waterloo. I pay the driver very
generously and he drives off - this time wheels spinning, me almost splattered in
mud. As it turns out, my date wasn’t the wanted
killer. Oops. Well, these are mistakes we all make.
