Short Story: Bella Donna

Short Story: Bella Donna

Simon couldn’t remember the first time he’d noticed her. It’d always amazed him, despite living in the same town for most of his life, how few people he recognized in the course of a day. Every now and again he’d see someone he knew from work, sometimes he might see a neighbour who was vaguely familiar, or a face he knew but couldn’t place. But all he saw generally was a mass of anonymous faces floating in and out of his vision. They were in his life for a few microseconds and then gone. Sometimes, if it was an attractive girl, his gaze might rest for a few extra seconds, taking in the shape of her body and the prettiness of her face, but, in a second or two, even she would be gone, absorbed back into the crowd that swirled around him as he made his way through the busy streets of the small market town where he lived.

He’d actually probably seen her many times before he registered her as more than just another passing face. She wasn’t fantastically attractive or he’d probably have noticed her sooner, but she was small, slim with dark eyes and hair cut into a neat crop and was easy enough on the eye. What made her stand out though was the way that she stared at him, her gaze dwelling just that bit too long in his direction. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, she turned away, embarrassed and disappeared into a shop.

It was about a week later when he saw her for the second time. Again it was her stare that caught his attention. He was familiar with the expression ‘eyes drilling into the back of my head’, which suggesting an ability to detect someone looking at you despite them being outside your field of vision, but he didn’t believe it for a moment. It was much more likely a primitive instinct, something to detect eyes staring at us, especially when those eyes might belong to a predator with its mind on a quick kill.

He had been looking at shoes in a shop window when his eyes refocused on the reflections in the glass and he saw her standing, motionless, on the other side of the road. It was only for a moment and then she was gone. A coincidence perhaps? – unlikely. This was someone who knew him, or knew of him and she was watching him.

Now that he had seen her for the second time, he found himself looking out for her. He did not have to wait long. Walking home after work two nights later he realized the girl walking just ahead of him looked familiar. With her back to him, he couldn’t be sure it was her but then she stopped, turned, looked directly at him and then turned again and ran off in the direction of the local shops. He was tempted to chase after her, to speak to her, but decided that it might be better not to.

But now he had real evidence this was all more than just a coincidence. He had seen her twice in the town and now, here, close to his home. This woman was seeking him out but he had no idea why. Part of him felt rather excited about what was happening. After all she was not unattractive. She was someone he might even approach in a bar if he could pluck up the courage. But he was also uneasy, remembering reading stories in the paper, stories of vulnerable men stalked by unhinged women, men whose lives became disrupted by the persistent unwelcome attention of strangers.

He felt very alone. It had been two weeks since he’d broken up with Karen. Two weeks ago they would have discussed it over a coffee, maybe even joked about it. Or Karen might have seen the woman off in a fit of temper because, if there was one thing Karen was famous for, it was her volatility. In fact his most vivid memories of her were when she was angry. He eyes blazing as she shouted at him, even attacking him on one occasion with her fists. Strangely it was a side of her he didn’t mind. Of course he preferred it when she was nice to him, and boy, could she be nice to him. But that was the kind of relationship they had: fire and ice, love and hate. He could love her even through her anger because he knew that the anger had its roots in her love for him.

But all that was in the past now. He had to put Karen out of his mind and move on in his life and he would have to cope with this strange woman on his own. He wasn’t too bothered, not yet, but he knew it would go on. She wouldn’t disappear as quickly as she had appeared. He knew he would see her again. It was just a matter of time.

In fact it was seven days. He had almost begun to believe that she had disappeared, but then, as he was crossing the park late in the afternoon, he caught a glimpse of her standing amongst the trees that ran along the edge of the pathway. She was standing close to one of the trees almost hidden from his sight. In fact he might have walked straight past had not the wind caught the edge of her coat. It flapped momentarily and caught his eye. She stepped back, out of sight behind the wide trunk of an ancient ash tree, but he already knew it was her.

Just for a moment he was tempted to change direction, to walk directly over and speak to her. She hardly represented a threat to him. She was six inches shorter and fairly slight in build. He could overpower her if she attacked him. Unless of course she was carrying a knife.

And it was the image of the knife that made him realize how his concerns had grown from vague unease to a pervading anxiety. In his more rational moments he could see what was happening in less ominous terms. It might be nothing more than a simple infatuation. At thirty years old, Simon knew that he remained not unattractive to women. He’d had all sorts of relationships in his life. Relationships with attractive women that would have surprised his office colleagues. Simon, unlike others he could mention, did not feel the need to boast about his conquests. He would see an attractive woman and then find some pretext to talk to them and very quickly she would become part of his life. It happened all the time.

His mother used to say that it was a chemical reaction. His mother was the one person he did tell about his girlfriends. They had a close relationships and she followed his love life with great interest. It’s true, he never got around to introducing any of these girlfriends to his mother but this was because he liked to keep the two parts of his life separate. Of course should one of these affairs, as he called them, begin moving towards marriage or living together, then he would introduce the two women in his life. But for the time being, while he felt it easy enough to meet and enjoy the company of new women, he felt no great compunction to settle down. Maybe one day he would find one he could feel as easy with as he did his mother. But until then he was happy enough to play the field and enjoy the freedoms and thrills that these short intense relationships bought to his life.

He wondered if he should tell his mother about this woman who was following him and, as he wondered, he realized that ‘followed’ was an inadequate term for what was going on. This woman was ‘stalking’ him. There was no other way to describe it. Even when she wasn’t near him physically, she was there in the back of his mind. He felt a frisson of fear at what was happening and wondered where it might end: with eruptions of violence perhaps, with the police involved, with courts and injunctions, even imprisonment. People might laugh: ‘I wish I had some bird following me’ but they didn’t know what it was like. They didn’t understand how a person could invade your life as this woman had done.

He found himself laying awake at night thinking about her, wondering when she was going to turn up again, wondering when and if the encounters might turn to something more sinister. But then, as the daylight filled his room, he bought the events into perspective. After all, what could this strange woman do to him? This is why he decided not to involve the police. He couldn’t see those big burly policemen taking him seriously. They’d be much more likely to laugh in his face, to tell him to stop wasting their time. They’d just tell him to sort it out himself and he already knew that this is what he had to do. The next time he saw her he would speak to her. He’d try and find out what was on her mind.

The trouble was that the next time he encountered her, it was in the last place he would have chosen for a confrontation. It was at night, along a deserted suburban lane about a mile from his house. Somehow he knew she was there even though he hadn’t seen her. He could feel her presence nearby, and when she revealed herself she was only a few steps away, standing under a street light.

‘I want to talk to you’, he said, louder than he intended.

‘What do you want?’, she sounded nervous, afraid, as if she had finally been caught out. She was already edging away.

‘No, no, it’s alright,’ he said,’ I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to talk to you. Just for a minute. There’s no need to run. I’m quite harmless.’ He pulled the flaps of his coat apart. ‘See. Completely unarmed.’ He thought a joke might cut through the tension. Make things easier. They were, after all, civilized people.

Now he’d built up the nerve to speak to her, he didn’t want to frighten her away. If they could just talk calmly and rationally, he might find out what it was she wanted with him, then maybe the whole thing could be brought to a civilized end. Maybe he could even help her.

He noticed she was crying, softly, almost undetectably as she stood under the streetlight. His voice was even softer now. “I just want to know what it is you want from me. I just need to know because you’re always there and it’s got… it’s got beyond a joke. Please tell me what it is you want.’

She reached inside her coat and for a moment he was frozen in fear. If she was reaching for a knife what could he do – he was alone, in a deserted street. Maybe talking to her had been a terrible mistake.

It was then that he heard the footsteps. Loud heavy footsteps. Footsteps that he’d heard before. They were coming up rapidly behind him and then he felt himself thrown to the ground.

‘You’re at it again. When are you going to start leaving these women alone.’ The policeman’s face was only inches from his, his voice loud and harsh.

‘I just wanted to talk…’, said Simon.

‘You scare these women to death.’

‘She was following me.’

‘It was you following her. It’s always you trailing around after some poor bloody woman or other. That Karen’s in the psychiatric ward thanks to you.’

‘She was my girlfriend.’

‘Girlfriend! She wasn’t your girlfriend. You’ve never had a girlfriend in your life. What woman in her right mind is going to look at you. If I had my way Simon you wouldn’t be walking the streets. You’d be locked up in a bloody cell. For good. And no woman’s safe until you are.’

But Simon wasn’t listening. His gaze turned away from the ugly ignorant voice, the foul breath and grimacing face. He looked over to the street light where the girl had stood but he could no longer see her. He was sad. Another relationship had gone wrong. Another love affair going nowhere. It would be safe to tell his mother all about it now.

Because, somehow, after all the fuss, he couldn’t see this one leading to marriage.