HEATHER
By Utopian
Chapter 1. The Stranger on the Bench
Heather was on her way home through the park when she first saw him. She’d been warned that bad things happened to girls in that park sometimes, but she didn’t believe a word of it. Evil men preying on lone girls in parks was the stuff of stories. OK, so it happened occasionally, but in real life the evil men were more likely to be a lot closer to home. Heather was too smart to fall for urban myths.
She was also smart enough to switch to a route across the grass when she saw the guy ahead of her staring fixedly in her direction. She had an idea that it wasn’t the first time she’d spotted him observing her, although never so directly before.
What was his deal? Sure, she was young and pretty but so were a lot of girls, and there were quite a few of them hanging around the park, some of them on their own. And yet he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. But her short cut had taken her away from him now and she didn’t want to turn her head to glance back at him. She hurried home.
The next day, she kind of looked for him. Not to seek him out in any way; just to see if he was there. But there was no sign of him.
It wasn’t until the following week that he reappeared, this time sitting on a bench further down the path. He was probably about six feet tall, slim, with dark brown curly hair and a lightly tanned face. Quite a prominent Roman nose. What did they call them? Aquiline? Maybe that wasn’t right. He was probably in his late thirties or early forties. She couldn’t tell his eye colour from this distance. He was dressed in a zipped-up leather jacket and boot-cut jeans, both black. She was getting nearer him now and needed to look away, because he was obviously staring at her again.
Since he was sitting down, Heather decided not to cut across the grass. She’d just stroll straight past him. She reached the bench and to her relief the guy didn’t jump to his feet and try to bar her way. She’d have hated to have to scream or run. The shame of it! He’d probably turn out to be a friend of her mother’s or something!
“Take a seat here tomorrow.”
Heather flinched as she passed the bench. His remark had obviously been addressed to her. Hadn’t it? She supposed he could have been talking into a throat-mic for his phone, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t.
She certainly would NOT take a seat there tomorrow! In fact, she probably shouldn’t walk through the park at all. The guy didn’t seem too dangerous—in fact she quite liked the look of him, but... what was that favourite phrase of her mother’s? ‘Looks can be deceiving.’ Well she wouldn’t give him the chance to deceive her.
Next day, she hovered at the entrance to the park, trying to decide whether to take her usual route or not. It was a warm day and there were plenty of people around. It wasn’t like taking a short cut through a dark wood. She marched through the park gates and took her usual route.
There was no sign of the... she wanted to think of him as a ‘tall dark stranger’ but that was ridiculous. She’d think of him as the ‘pervy guy’ instead. There was no sign of the pervy guy as she reached the bench where he’d been sitting yesterday.
A flush of recklessness coursed through Heather’s usually sensible mind. What the hell! She’d sit down for a while. She thought of the Dr Pepper ads they used to have on TV: ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ Trouble was, in those ads terrible disasters befell the young Dr Pepper drinker. Bah. Her overactive imagination was in danger of running away with her as she envisaged tall pervy strangers, well... running away with her.
Heather sat down at the opposite end of the bench from where the guy had been sitting yesterday. She looked all around her. She realised this didn’t look cool and she should really be nonchalantly reading a book, but she’d forgotten to bring one with her. Checking her watch, she saw that it was pretty much the exact time she’d passed this way yesterday. But there was no sign of him. Good thing too, really. And yet she felt a slight pang of disappointment.
Well, she couldn’t hang around here all day. Heather stood up to leave and only then did she notice that someone had carved a small, lower case ‘h’ inside a circle on one of the slats in the bench, just where she’d been sitting. The inscription looked quite fresh. A little shiver ran down her spine. She really should find a different way home from now on.
A combination of circumstances kept Heather way from the park for a few days. The weekend, a lift from her mother, an outing with some friends and one day when it was pouring down with rain and she’d been lucky enough to find a taxi. It was nearly a week before she took that familiar route home and once again there was no sign of the stranger. She paused briefly as she passed the bench to inspect the little carving, which looked like a copyright symbol but with an ‘h’ instead of a ‘C’. It was already beginning to show its age, so she was all the more sure that it had been brand new when she’d first seen it. She’d been half hoping for some further development: maybe the circle would now be enclosed by a square or there would be another letter. But nothing had changed.
Then she saw it. Lying on the ground beneath the bench was a little sprig of dried purple heather. Maybe it had been on the bench before, but had blown off. After a second’s thought, she knelt down and picked it up. Inspecting it and deciding it looked perfectly innocent she dropped it into her pocket. She put it by her bedside when she got home.
Next day he was back. He was relaxing at the opposite end of the bench from the carving, half lying back as he stretched out his long legs. She knew she shouldn’t sit down. She shouldn’t even have come this way. And everyone thought she was such a sensible girl!
Heather sat down. She took out the book she’d remembered to bring. Her heart was beating fast but she was fairly sure she wasn’t blushing. She flipped open the book and tried to concentrate on reading. Five minutes passed. She must have read the same paragraph about ten times now. Why didn’t he say something? From the corner of her eye she could see that he wasn’t even looking in her direction. He seemed to be gazing off into the middle distance. She stole a glance.
Pinned to his leather jacket was a sprig of heather, but his was white. Heather felt the book nearly slip from her hands but she regained a grip on it.
“I want you to do something for me,” he said. The tone was measured but not cold. His accent was indeterminate. It didn’t seem to be local and it wasn’t Welsh, like her own.
Heather made no reply and nor did she look at him. In fact, she barely moved a muscle.
“When you sit down here tomorrow, I want you to be wearing something purple.”
A gaggle of kids passed the bench. They were talking, maybe even shouting, but their voices seemed very far off. Heather bit gently on the inside of her lip, and said nothing.
“You may go now.”
God! If anyone else had said ‘you may go now’ in that tone of voice, Heather would have told him that she would do as she pleased, thank you very much. And yet now she found herself closing her book, dropping it into her bag and rising to her feet. She turned to look at him and their eyes met. This was the first time they’d looked straight at each other. She had wondered (why had she even been thinking about it?) whether his eyes might be violet, but they were only blue, and a dirty shade of blue at that.
Just to show that she wasn’t scared of him, Heather smiled. It wasn’t the warmest smile she’d ever dazzled anyone with, but it was the best she could do in the circumstances. The stranger... the perv... the... she had to find a better name for him... anyway, he kind of smiled too. At least his thin lips widened, while not exactly curling upwards. She’d been given more reassuring smiles. In fact, she’d seen a more inviting grin on a Mississippi alligator at Chester Zoo.
Heather departed for home, trying not to show any signs of hurrying.
Next day she sat down alone at the bench. There was no sign of the stranger... the perv... the alligator... bah! She still hadn’t come up with a decent name for him. Maybe she could just ask him his name? Maybe not.
She sat and read her book for a while. The story was getting rather filthy and she was pleasantly surprised. Never judge a book by its cover.
After a few minutes, something made her look up and he was standing there. He lowered himself into place at ‘his’ end of the bench and gave her a penetrating stare. After a few moments a more genuine smile flickered across his lips.
“Ohhh, very good.”
For the first time, Heather addressed him.
“What do you mean?”
“I think you know just what I mean, Heather.”
Heather barely flinched when he said her name. It was no real surprise that he knew it. And she did know just what he meant. To the external observer, there was no hint of mauve, lilac, violet or lavender in her garb. But that morning she’d selected matching underwear in a rich shade of purple. She didn’t bother feigning ignorance any longer.
“I’m glad you approve.”
“I approve of everything about you, Heather.”
Heather swallowed. For a moment, the real world intruded on her thoughts. She imagined for a moment how her mother would react if she knew anything about this; what her friends would say. Actually, she quite liked the idea of shocking her friends, who thought that she wasn’t as adventurous as they were, especially in matters related to the opposite sex. Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
“Thank you.”
“You may go now.”
What? Was that it? Dismissed already? No, she wouldn’t let him have the last word quite so soon today.
“Before I go, you can tell me your name, since you seem to know mine.”
“What would you like my name to be?”
Heather flushed angrily. That was a bloody stupid answer. She’d expected better of him.
“I didn’t expect it to be anything. I’m not a mind reader like you seem to be.”
His eyes narrowed a little. He didn’t seem to like Heather talking back to him like this, but if he’d been looking for a total pushover he’d picked the wrong girl.
“My name is Valentine.”
Heather made a face. She was still annoyed with him.
“That’s a bit of a girly sort of name.”
Valentine looked at her and said nothing. Heather began to regret her words. But she wasn’t going to apologise. After another few moments, he spoke.
“I shall be here again next Tuesday. When you come, you should dress the same way again. And you should be sucking something purple. A lollipop or something.”
Heather had intended to be more compliant after her regrettable rudeness about his name, but this was too much.
“No fucking way! I’m not a little kid!”
Valentine rose to his feet and gave her a last penetrating stare. He spoke coldly, without any hint of emotion. Just a flat monotone.
“Have it your own fucking way. I’ll be here either fucking way.”
And then he walked away. He just walked a-fucking-way.