A short story by Aileen Cleave

 I did not want to get in the car.  I remember thinking clearly, this is not a good idea.  But he was very persuasive and seemingly so inoffensive, the heat was intense and my feet were hurting .  I clambered into the passenger seat and we took off.  Neither of us spoke for what seemed an age, until I began to feel a little uncomfortable.    

“So what have you been doing since university, Charles?” i enquired, more from politeness than interest.   We had been at the same school , though he was more into the sciences while I definitely leaned towards  the humanities.  We had had very little to do with each other throughout our years there and I was somewhat surprised but not unduly bothered to find him in the same college as me at Cambridge.   Again our studies kept us separate – mercifully, I thought unkindly – because I found him rather strange, not at all my type. 

“I’v got my own company, building software systems” he replied while leaning  in a little to flick the central door lock.  My discomfort turned to unease. 

“Really” I replied with right amount of awe in my voice, I hoped “and where are your offices”. 

“ I work from home, from my flat in Holland Park”.   I had no need to  feign appreciation this time.    

“Holland Park”, I exclaimed “Your company must be doing well to be able to afford to rent there”. 

“I dont rent, the flat is mine.  I had some success with one of the games I compiled. Are you still living in Brixton?”I gasped, just slightly.  How did he know i lived in Brixton?  he said he would take me south of the river , but  I hadnt mentioned where and we hadn't met in three or four years.  He turned his head towards me slightly, and I looked into very pale blue eyes “I keep up to date with all our former school matres, where I can, and I follow you from time to time on Instagram”.   

“Oh”  i made a mental note to revisit my privacy settings.  “Yes,Im still in Brixton”. 

“Why don't we stop by my flat, its very close, we can have a drink and I can show you the new game Im working on.  I think you’ll find it interesting.” 

I wanted to say no, I really wanted to say no, but I felt a little trapped and couldnt think of a good enough excuse.  He took my silence for acquiescence . 

His flat was in a beautiful Victorian mansion surrounded by imposing  plane trees.  it was on the first floor and had a magnificent view across the park.  

“Wine? Red or white?” 

“Actually, I’m so hot, I'd love something colder please, perhaps an ice cream?” 

Concealing surprise, he handed me an ice cream from the freezer and then fired up[ his lap top. 

“I havent finished this yet,not sure how it should finish but this is it so far. It's a play on the old schoolyard game ‘Catch’ so quite a simple plot.” 

I watched as the screen flickerded into life. There was something oddly familiar about the images slowly forming. I caught my breath; it was my street in Brixton, and a figure was running very fast through the street, shortly followed by another figure. I could only see the figures from behind but the graphics were excellent.  

The second figure was catching up with the first, was very close, close enough to put out an arm. The graphics showed the panic in the one being chased who suddenly stopped and turned around to confront her hunter. 

My heart stopped. It was me, unmistakably me. Pale blue eyes stared at me intently as the ice cream slowly melted.