Page 2

I must have fallen asleep for a few hours, because I wake to the sound of my phone ringing, its screen illuminating the dark room.

“Hello?”

“Katie, It’s me.”

It's Jax, thank goodness.

“Jax, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Where are you, Katie?”

I’m so relieved to finally speak to him, but I’m confused by the harsh tone of his voice. “I’m at your place; I’m actually in your bed; I miss y—”

Jax cuts me off. “You need to leave now,” he instructs firmly.

“What, why? Jax, I don’t understand?” As I speak, I hear a knock on the door.

“I don’t have time to explain. Just get your stuff and get out.”

“Just a second. I think there’s someone at the door.” I look out of the window and see a Range Rover parked outside. There’s a man in dark clothing standing at the front door. Another man looks to be walking around the back of the house.

“Listen to me carefully." Jax speaks firmly and quickly. "Some bad people have framed me. I don’t have time to go into detail, but you need to leave and take all of your things with you. Do you understand? Everything. They cannot know I have a girlfriend, or they will come after you.”

“O-okay,” I stutter, my breathing becoming erratic.

“Seriously, Katie. Take everything. Your toothbrush and the tatty teddy you take with you everywhere. It all must be gone.”

I have never heard Jax talk so abruptly, and it scares me.

I do as he asks, gathering all my things and throwing them into my bag. There’s not much of mine here, just a few toiletries and some clothes, which are all neatly together in his drawer, thanks to me tidying up after the police made a mess .

“One of them has gone around the back. How do I get out?” I whisper into the phone I’m still holding against my ear.

“Go up into the loft. There’s a hole in the left-hand side that leads to Mrs. Johnson’s. Leave via her house, and don’t go back there again.”

“Okay, but—”

Jax cuts me off again. “I mean it, Katie. Do not go there again!”

My phone beeps, and the call ends. I stare at my phone in disbelief.

Another loud knock on the door brings me back to reality.

With a quick check around to ensure I have everything, I fumble through the dark, trying to find the loft hatch.

The ladder to the hatch slides down with a screech.

I hate lofts, especially in the dark. They have a funny musty smell and an eery feel about them.

The ladder is very heavy to lift, but I manage to get it back up with a struggle.

The latch closes just as I hear the back door being bashed off its hinges.

I sit still for a few moments, listening.

My heart races and thuds in my ears. The two men are both in the house.

I can hear them speaking to each other, but they’re too far away for me to make out what they are saying.

The sound of furniture being moved around makes me move.

They’re obviously looking for something.

I need to get out of here. Now that my eyes have gotten used to the dark, I make my way through the storage boxes as quietly as I can.

I see the opening next door and climb through it.

Mrs. Johnson’s loft has a lot more stuff in it than Jax’s.

I can hardly move through the old furniture and creepy paintings.

I locate the hatch to the house; it opens with a creak.

I climb down the ladder while trying to think of an explanation as to why I have sneaked into Mrs. Johnson’s house through her loft.

Maybe she won’t notice, and I can just quietly leave through the front door.

No such luck. As I close the hatch, she appears behind me.

“Hello, dear.”

I turn with a jump.

“Mrs. Johnson, hi. I’m so sorry to intrude on you like this.”

“Is Jax not with you?” Mrs. Johnson strains to look behind me, looking disappointed when she realises it's just me.

“No…. He’s… away at the moment.”

“Ahh, that’s a shame; I haven’t seen him for a while. I miss our chats.” Mrs. Johnson is an eighty-year-old widow who has a soft spot for Jax. Every time I come over, there is a homemade dish in the fridge, courtesy of the friendly neighbour.

“Will you be staying for a cup of tea, or do you need to rush off?”

Something tells me this isn’t the first time someone has come through her loft unannounced.

“I need to get going. But thank you so much for the offer; I really am sorry to bother you.”

“Anytime, dear. You tell Jax I have a currant bun with his name on it.”

I quickly check the coast is clear and make my exit. Walking as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself, I don’t stop until I am home.

It’s Saturday. My birthday. I really don’t feel like getting out of bed, let alone celebrating.

If it wasn’t for my clients booked in at the salon, I would stay in bed.

I don’t like letting people down. I drag myself out of the covers, and I get into the shower.

I haven’t slept a wink, but after a shower and a full face of makeup, you’d never know.

With five minutes to spare before I need to leave, I open my birthday cards.

There’s one from my mum with a voucher for my favourite makeup and one from my dad, containing money.

The next one I open isn’t a birthday card; it is a wedding invitation, along with a plane ticket.

I read the bride and groom’s names a few times, not recognising who they are.

Confused, I check to see who it is addressed to on the envelope; it’s definitely for me—my address, my name.

It takes a few more minutes for it to register.

But it can’t be, can it? The bride… is me.

This is an invitation to my own wedding.