Chapter 1

Becky pulled her coat tight to her chest. If her bashed-up Mini Cooper had started for work that morning, she wouldn’t be walking to the taxi rank now. She walked briskly through the dimly lit streets, turning her head now and again to make sure she wasn’t being followed. The neighbourhood just wasn’t safe anymore. Luckily, there were only four people waiting: a teenage couple who had no problem with PDA and two elderly women nattering as their loaded shopping trolleys sat beside them. There were no taxis waiting outside but it didn’t take long for two to pull up right behind each other. Within ten minutes, she was next in line for a cab. The manager bellowed a number, and a sour-faced man stood up from the back room. Becky watched him glare at her as he slammed his half-drunk cup of coffee on a table and then walked through and gestured for her to follow to his cab.

“Where to?” He moaned as he started the engine, switched on the Taxi light and set the metre.

After giving her address, she sat quietly in the back and listened to him cursing every motorist he passed. It was eight o’clock already, and usually took an hour to get home. Maybe less at the speed he’s driving.

Becky lived on her own in a newly converted loft. She loved her independence, and being her own boss meant she didn’t need to think about anyone else. She cooked when she wanted and ate what she liked, and she was determined to keep it that way, which was why she turned down her colleague Frank. He was forever asking her out and refused to take no for an answer. There was nothing wrong with him. He was exactly her type, if she had been looking. It wasn’t that guys didn’t find her attractive or interesting – she’d had many offers – it was just her previous involvement with men had made her cautious. They took her broken heart, mended it, made her feel on top of the world, and then tore her to shreds. Why was she always attracted to the wrong men? Why were the wrong men attracted to her? She was certain Mr Right was out there somewhere. However, he was going to have to find her because she had stopped looking months ago.

***

Becky felt content that evening having just finished an important task well before the deadline. Part of her role as a marketing executive involved managing a large team, which meant working until exhausted and working overtime as she had nothing to go home for. Becky lived for the intense rush of her job.

The feeling she had left something behind festered. Reaching into her handbag, she rummaged through her belongings. Her credit card wallet was there, but her purse was in the bottom drawer of her desk.

This had never happened before, and the thought of telling the driver left her mouth dry. At first, the words wouldn’t come, so she spoke louder, blurting it out.

“I’m sorry, but I think I’ve left my purse at work. I’ve money at home if you don’t mind waiting.”

He slammed on the brakes, right in the middle of the road, and then turned and glared at Becky.

“I’ve had about all I can take from liars and cheats. You think you can pull the wool over my eyes? Go on, get out!”

“I have money at home,” she pleaded. “I’m not lying. I swear to you. Please, I don’t know where I am. How am I supposed to get home?”

“That’s not my bloody problem,” he spat. “You should have thought about that before you tried to get a free ride. Now, get out of my cab before I come back there and drag you out.”

She couldn’t believe he would leave her stranded in a part of town she didn’t know.

“You can’t do this,” she shouted. “I’m not getting out.”

The driver turned off the engine and unclipped his belt while swearing profusely. Becky fumbled with the door handle and jumped out of the cab, stepping onto the otherwise deserted street. Speechless and stunned, she blew air into her hands as the cab pulled away. “Bollocks!” She cursed as she realized she’d left her mobile at the office as well.

She’d had an important meeting that morning and was dressed in high stiletto Jimmy Choos and her best D&G suit. She was certainly too dressed up to be walking around these streets.

Becky assumed she was heading into the shopping area when the road changed from tarmac to cobblestone. She navigated the stones with care, not wanting to twist her ankle. Turning a corner, the shops came into view. The street was deserted, apart from the echo of nearing footsteps. She pictured two couples out for a romantic evening stroll but didn’t have the courage to check.

Thankfully, she spotted a red telephone box. Becky quickened her pace. To her dismay, so did the sound of trailing footsteps. Fear took over, and she moved as fast as her designer skirt would allow.

She reached the shelter of the telephone box and grabbed the receiver. Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly keep a grip, never mind dial a number.

Further panic struck her. She had no purse, but if the footsteps belonged to the couples she had envisioned, wouldn’t they give her some change for the phone?

Turning around, she saw a group of youths loitering in a doorway opposite the phone box. They looked harmless enough, probably hanging out like they did every night, but she didn’t like the look of the smirk on one boy’s face. She turned her back on them and rummaged through her bag, feeling for the loose change at the bottom.

Becky pulled her coat tight to her chest. If her bashed-up Mini Cooper had started for work that morning, she wouldn’t be walking to the taxi rank now. She walked briskly through the dimly lit streets, turning her head now and again to make sure she wasn’t being followed. The neighbourhood just wasn’t safe anymore. Luckily, there were only four people waiting: a teenage couple who had no problem with PDA and two elderly women nattering as their loaded shopping trolleys sat beside them. There were no taxis waiting outside but it didn’t take long for two to pull up right behind each other. Within ten minutes, she was next in line for a cab. The manager bellowed a number, and a sour-faced man stood up from the back room. Becky watched him glare at her as he slammed his half-drunk cup of coffee on a table and then walked through and gestured for her to follow to his cab.

“Where to?” He moaned as he started the engine, switched on the Taxi light and set the metre.

After giving her address, she sat quietly in the back and listened to him cursing every motorist he passed. It was eight o’clock already, and usually took an hour to get home. Maybe less at the speed he’s driving.

Becky lived on her own in a newly converted loft. She loved her independence, and being her own boss meant she didn’t need to think about anyone else. She cooked when she wanted and ate what she liked, and she was determined to keep it that way, which was why she turned down her colleague Frank. He was forever asking her out and refused to take no for an answer. There was nothing wrong with him. He was exactly her type, if she had been looking. It wasn’t that guys didn’t find her attractive or interesting – she’d had many offers – it was just her previous involvement with men had made her cautious. They took her broken heart, mended it, made her feel on top of the world, and then tore her to shreds. Why was she always attracted to the wrong men? Why were the wrong men attracted to her? She was certain Mr Right was out there somewhere. However, he was going to have to find her because she had stopped looking months ago.

***

Becky felt content that evening having just finished an important task well before the deadline. Part of her role as a marketing executive involved managing a large team, which meant working until exhausted and working overtime as she had nothing to go home for. Becky lived for the intense rush of her job.

The feeling she had left something behind festered. Reaching into her handbag, she rummaged through her belongings. Her credit card wallet was there, but her purse was in the bottom drawer of her desk.

This had never happened before, and the thought of telling the driver left her mouth dry. At first, the words wouldn’t come, so she spoke louder, blurting it out.

“I’m sorry, but I think I’ve left my purse at work. I’ve money at home if you don’t mind waiting.”

He slammed on the brakes, right in the middle of the road, and then turned and glared at Becky.

“I’ve had about all I can take from liars and cheats. You think you can pull the wool over my eyes? Go on, get out!”

“I have money at home,” she pleaded. “I’m not lying. I swear to you. Please, I don’t know where I am. How am I supposed to get home?”

“That’s not my bloody problem,” he spat. “You should have thought about that before you tried to get a free ride. Now, get out of my cab before I come back there and drag you out.”

She couldn’t believe he would leave her stranded in a part of town she didn’t know.

“You can’t do this,” she shouted. “I’m not getting out.”

The driver turned off the engine and unclipped his belt while swearing profusely. Becky fumbled with the door handle and jumped out of the cab, stepping onto the otherwise deserted street. Speechless and stunned, she blew air into her hands as the cab pulled away. “Bollocks!” She cursed as she realized she’d left her mobile at the office as well.

She’d had an important meeting that morning and was dressed in high stiletto Jimmy Choos and her best D&G suit. She was certainly too dressed up to be walking around these streets.

Becky assumed she was heading into the shopping area when the road changed from tarmac to cobblestone. She navigated the stones with care, not wanting to twist her ankle. Turning a corner, the shops came into view. The street was deserted, apart from the echo of nearing footsteps. She pictured two couples out for a romantic evening stroll but didn’t have the courage to check.

Thankfully, she spotted a red telephone box. Becky quickened her pace. To her dismay, so did the sound of trailing footsteps. Fear took over, and she moved as fast as her designer skirt would allow.

She reached the shelter of the telephone box and grabbed the receiver. Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly keep a grip, never mind dial a number.

Further panic struck her. She had no purse, but if the footsteps belonged to the couples she had envisioned, wouldn’t they give her some change for the phone?

Turning around, she saw a group of youths loitering in a doorway opposite the phone box. They looked harmless enough, probably hanging out like they did every night, but she didn’t like the look of the smirk on one boy’s face. She turned her back on them and rummaged through her bag, feeling for the loose change at the bottom.

Amongst the obscene graffiti and call girl invitations, she found a number for a local cab firm on the half-melted, plastic information board. Dialling the number, she spoke to a sympathetic woman who couldn’t believe a driver would do something like that, and she even advised Becky to sue them.

The dispatcher’s voice gave Becky a sense of security, and she didn’t want to put the phone down. She told her about the youths, and the woman advised her to stay in a well-lit part of the street, assuring her a cab was already on the way.

Five minutes later, Becky continued to hold the phone and nod her head, even though the other woman had hung up minutes before. She couldn’t stay in the phone box much longer. One youth was standing right outside, giving her an impatient glare.

Slowly, she put the receiver down and made a point of rummaging through her bag. Becky slipped out of the phone box and walked down the street at a confident, steady pace. She wanted to appear as if she knew where she was going, but she couldn’t stray too far; the taxi could arrive at any moment, and she couldn’t afford to miss it. More importantly, she didn’t want to wander off too far and get lost.

It was a nightmare. All she wanted to do was get home, put her feet up, and forget the night had ever happened.

Behind her, the youths talked and laughed amongst themselves.

Becky stopped at a dress shop and looked in the window, feigning interest.

Instead of walking away as she’d hoped, they had the nerve to stand directly behind her. The five boys talked in high-pitched voices, acting as though they were interested in the dresses, causing more snorted laughter.

Becky didn’t feel like laughing, and she didn’t feel frightened. What she felt was anger, so she turned around and confronted them. “What’s your problem?” she said, surprised her voice didn’t shake.

“We’re just wondering wha’ a broad like you is doing ’round ‘ere. You lost or some’fing?”

Becky guessed the lad was about fifteen. Claustrophobia overwhelmed her as they stepped forward, surrounding her. She couldn’t see the street ahead and didn’t know if the taxi was waiting.

“Not that it is any of your business, but I’m meeting my husband. Now, if you don’t mind, get out of my way.”

Becky pushed past them. A hand gripped her shoulder, and she spun around. In one quick move, she kneed the boy in the groin and ran, unfortunately, in the opposite direction to where she’d arranged for the taxi to pick her up. Desperate to lose the boys, Becky dived into a nearby alley.