Fear That Lived Amongst Us For Years
«Lily, will you stop that trembling? How much longer must this go on?» Eleanor snapped, turning sharply to her daughter who stood near the window, nervously twisting the edge of the curtain. «Nothing will happen to you, understand? Nothing!»
«Mum, but he might come back…» Lily’s voice shook, her eyes fixed on the courtyard. «Yesterday, Gemma from flat five said she saw him near the shops. He was asking about us.»
«And what of it? So he asked! We haven’t done a thing wrong!» Eleanor slapped her palm on the kitchen table, making the teacups rattle. «Enough, Lily! Years have passed, yet you’re still terrified.»
Lily slowly moved from the window and sat on the stool beside her mother. Tears welled in her eyes, stubbornly held back.
«Mum, what if he really has come back? What if he knows where we live?»
Eleanor sighed, pushing aside her unfinished tea. Her daughter was thirty-two now, yet she still jumped at every knock, still glanced over her shoulder in the street, still woke at night in a cold sweat.
«Listen to me,» Eleanor said quietly, taking Lily’s hands. «It’s been fourteen years. Fourteen! You were just a girl of eighteen back then. Now you’re a grown woman with a job, your own life. It’s time to let go.»
«How can I let go, Mum? How can I forget what he did?» Lily pulled her hands free, stood, and paced the kitchen. «Remember how we hid under the bed at night? How you changed the locks every month? When he was in hospital with that broken leg, we still feared he’d be discharged and come round.»
Eleanor closed her eyes. She remembered those times perfectly. How they lived like they were under siege. Checking every lock three times each evening. Sleeping in her clothes to grab Lily swiftly if need arose.
«Mum, remember when the local constable came?» Lily sat back down, pressing her hands to her chest. «You told him everything, and he just shook his head saying, ‘Prove it was him’. How could we? The slimy worm was clever. Never did a thing with witnesses.»
«Don’t go over it,» Eleanor whispered. «Why rake up the past?»
«Because this fear still lives inside me! I can’t marry because I’m too afraid to tell a man about my past. I don’t even invite friends over, in case he’s watching us and learns something through them!»
Eleanor stood, walked to Lily, and hugged her. Her daughter felt thin, fragile, just like during those awful times hiding from the neighbour across the hall – Stanley Cooper.
Stanley Cooper entered their lives when Lily turned seventeen. A chap around fifty, lonely after his divorce. At first charming, even gallant. Greeting them in the hall, helping with heavy bags, sometimes bringing sweets.
«What a gentleman,» Eleanor had remarked to Mrs. Andrews next door then. «Rare in this day and age.»
But then things changed. Stanley began appearing near them constantly. At the shop, the bus stop, the park. Eleanor first thought it coincidence. Sheffield wasn’t large; people often bumped into each other.
Then the calls began. At night. Silence on the line, heavy breathing. Eleanor hung up, then later took the phone off the hook at night.
«Mum, remember that first time he started pounding on the door?» Lily asked, staying close. «We didn’t sleep until morning, just listening.»
Eleanor remembered that evening clearly. They were watching telly when the banging started. Not knocking – banging. Loud, insistent, relentless.
«Who’s there?» Eleanor had shouted.
Silence. Then the banging resumed.
«Let me in. I know you’re home,» came Stanley’s familiar voice. «I need to talk to Lily.»
«What could you possibly need with my daughter?» Eleanor retorted. «Go home!»
«I won’t leave until she speaks to me,» the man’s voice held a strange menace. «Lily, I know you can hear me. Come out.»
Lily had sat motionless on the sofa, white as a sheet, trembling. She pointed silently at the door, mouthing: *Don’t open.*
The pounding lasted nearly an hour before stopping. Yet Eleanor felt he was still there, waiting. Peering through the peephole, she saw only darkness – his finger blocking it.
«And then the notes started,» Lily continued softly. «Slipped under the door, in the mailbox. He wrote such filth…»
Eleanor flinched. She tried not to remember those notes. Filled with sick fantasies, threats, demands. Stanley wrote about watching Lily, knowing her schedule, her friends, her shopping. He demanded meetings, promised to ‘hurt’ her if she kept ‘playing hard to get’.
«I went to the police,» Eleanor said. «Remember how they received me?»
«Like I could forget. ‘And what did he actually do?'» Lily mimicked the constable’s tone. «‘Knocked? So what? Needed to borrow sugar, perhaps. Wrote notes? Prove it was him. The handwriting wasn’t analysed.'»
«‘Living in the same building, neighbours have disagreements,'» Eleanor added, recalling the sergeant’s words. «‘Sort it out amicably.'»
Sorting it amicably was impossible. Stanley sensed he couldn’t be held accountable and grew bolder. He started waiting for Lily by the entry, trailing her to the bus stop. If she crossed the street, he crossed. If she entered a shop, he entered too, standing close, breathing heavily, muttering.
«Mum, remember when he brought flowers once?» Lily asked.
«Roses. Red ones.»
«He placed them by the door with a note. That note said it was the ‘final warning’, that I’d regret it if I didn’t meet him.»
Eleanor had thrown those roses down the rubbish chute immediately. She took the note to the constable. It changed nothing.
«Where’s the note?» the sergeant asked. «We need handwriting analysis.»
«But he used block letters,» Eleanor explained. «On purpose, so it couldn’t be traced.»
«Then nothing we can do,» the constable shrugged. «No crime committed yet.»
«So we wait until he does?» Eleanor had exploded.
«Law is the law.»
After that, Eleanor knew they were on their own. She changed the locks, added bolts, bought pepper spray.
«Mum, when we moved into this flat, I thought it was over,» Lily said. «Remember how happy we were? A new neighbourhood, new neighbours…»
«We celebrated too soon,» Eleanor sighed. «He found us within three months.»
They’d moved across Sheffield, renting a small two-bedroom. Eleanor started nursing at the nearby surgery, Lily got a shop job. Life seemed to improve.
Then one evening, walking home, Lily saw a familiar figure by their entry. Stanley stood smoking, staring at the windows. Spotting her, he smirked and waved like an old friend.
«I ran home like mad that day,» Lily recalled. «Locked every bolt. You got back and asked: ‘What’s happened?’ I said: ‘He’s found us.'»
They didn’t sleep that night. Sat drinking tea on the kitchen floor, wondering where else to flee. How to hide from this shadow?
«Then the notes started again,» Lily continued. «The calls. The banging at night.»
«And the constable still couldn’t act,» Eleanor added. «‘Mightn’t be him. Might be youths. Are you quite sure?'»
They were utterly sure. Stanley barely hid. He knew no evidence pinned him down – just their consuming fear, growing daily.
«Mum, that time in the shop when he grabbed my arm,» Lily shivered. «I thought, ‘This is it.’
Eleanor held Lily tighter, whispering firmly that they would finally reclaim the peace stolen from them all those years by facing whatever came without flinching.