Stalking Liberty

By Claire Cappetta

Lydia Castle is thirty and living as a single parent in Yorkshire, England. Working hard, she is an independent woman, who would never let herself be abused again- by anyone!
Quietly, there is a car parked two houses away from hers – every night, lying in wait, in the darkness. It is the same car that follows her two cars back everywhere she goes...
Lydia stares at the note which was delivered through her letterbox in the night. The typed written words start to blur in front of her eyes as tears well, spilling over, slowly coursing down her face... “Only death will separate us...”She has to decide, to either stay and fight for her life... Or run for it!

Someone is stalking her.
Her life.
Her family.
Her freedom.
Her liberty....Stalking liberty!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claire Cappetta
• Release date: May 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311339867

Claire Cappetta

Claire is an author, life coach, cognitive behavioral therapist, and advocate. Her early life was spent in Yorkshire, England. She retired from the financial world to concentrate on the dream of publishing a first novel, based on her journey through relationships, abuse, and domestic violence through to inspiration and empowerment.Understanding that rape, abuse, and domestic violence are difficult topics to cover but rather than looking at it as a deep, dark subject, wants to throw light and empowerment at it, to show people there is 'Light at the end of the tunnel'. That the journey they have been through will forever change them, but it also made them stronger and they should be proud to say they survived instead of trying to hide it.Claire has been a speaker on Domestic Violence at various events: Barrier Free Living, Moving Beyond Shame, Shattering the Silence Tour in NYC. She has also appeared on various Blog Talk Radio shows including Freedom Talk Radio with Andy Peacher in the UK, also contributing posts to See the Triumph Organisation, etc. Her work has been endorsed by various professionals including Carol Senior of the American Screenwriters Guild, Audry Hardy of The Hope Healing House Foundation, Ohio. She is a certified Life Coach and Cognitive Behavioral Therapist, and holds diplomas in Psychology and Mental Health.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was a cold, dark, damp evening. The dank humidity hung over Yorkshire like a thick, heavy blanket which penetrated deep down into the bones.

The street lights shone a warm, hazy orange glow on wet, glistening streets. Cars hurried home to warmth and light. Houses glowed with windows lit, masking the smells of home cooked meals and televisions flickered light behind the closely drawn curtains. They all seemed to be the epitome of coziness, happiness and smiling, relaxed faces of loved ones.

In the distance, when Lydia closed her eyes she could hear the faint noise of traffic passing her home.

Lydia had recently thrown a party for her thirtieth birthday. She had never imagined reaching thirty; thinking always something would have been the death of her before reaching it. Even telling people she knew that being thirty was for everyone else; absolutely convinced a fatal disease or someone would manage to end her life before it. For her it had just become a simple fact and one not to be scared of. It had taken Lydia by surprise to be actually reaching and surpassing it, so it seemed only right in her mind to celebrate it almost as a coming of age.

Friends had come to her small cozy home bringing wine and snacks to contribute to the festivities.

It all seemed a long time ago now even though it had only been weeks, not months or years.

Lydia, her eyes still closed trying to listen for the cars and their soft swooshing noise as they passed by. It was comforting to hear them, a sense of hushed normality…

Hey! D’ya hear me? I asked you if you wanted a coffee!

Lydia’s eyes snapped open. They felt dry, tired and bloodshot. She tried to focus on the voice; it was a blunt heavy Yorkshire accent. Head bent down but looking up at the hazy figure standing by her electric kettle from which steam was gushing forth, up into the kitchen.

Scowling at the figure all she wanted to was jump out of the stiff wooden chair, grab a knife and plunge it deep into the body of the sinister figure, not caring where, just to sink it in anywhere would have felt like a blessing, a relief.

The figure in front of her laughed.

Of course not! You can’t drink coffee, right? Wow! You must have on hell of a headache Lydia, caffeine withdrawal I hear is a bitch! He turned to finish making his, spooning in sugar and stirring the spoon loudly against the inside of the mug.

He hummed quietly as he stirred. Be okay if you could drink it out of straw I guess! He laughed, tapping the spoon on the rim.

Reaching out he pulled one of Lydia’s wooden kitchen table chairs in front of her, sat down and slurped the coffee loudly.

Hmm, now where were we? Oh, that’s right! He leaned the chair back onto two legs as he reached around and slowly slid a large carving knife handle into his hand, spinning it around to get a better grasp.

Not only were Lydia’s eyes heavy, tired and bloodshot, her neck ached, holding her head up seemed impossible. Sleep was calling her into a deep blissful darkness but knew that if her children were to see another day she had to try desperately to stay awake.

Lydia had now been tied to a chair for hours. She knew the drill now, the routine.

The chair was made of simple oak, stained dark to match the kitchen table. It sat in the middle of the kitchen, behind it the table which was pushed up against the sunny yellow papered wall. Opposite stood the refrigerator and a wall of white cabinets which turned at a right angle into the corner against the wall with a sink underneath a large window, overlooking Lydia’s back-garden. Next to the sink stood a gas stove leaving room for an outside door.

The chairs were usually comfortable with yellow flowered patterned pads tied to them but for Lydia they had lost their comfort appeal days ago. Her long legs had been tied by the ankles with silk dress ties, her wrists hurt from being tied to the wooden arms of the chair.

The first time he had tied her to the chair she had struggled but when she saw the glint of light bounce off her own carving knife she had gone into shock… Memories flashed to the surface of being raped at fifteen years old, the memories of a switch blade, the point piercing her neck. Her mind crashed, suddenly switching off. The light for Lydia went out.

When she had re-focused the reality struck. Her long lean body was tied to the oak chair and in front of her an all too familiar figure sat opposite her, still playing with the knife.

The rules had been made clear to her. He was to be with her every minute of the day, making breakfast, taking the children to school. Her children, Sara who was nine years old with her short dark haired bob style haircut and round glasses, making her look intellectual beyond her years. Jake, handsome Jake with a blonde mop of hair, blues eyes which sparkled with mischief that being all of six years old held.

She was to sit on the chair while he tied her to it, remaining there until it was time to collect her children from school at three o’clock.

The man standing in front of her was always close while she cooked dinner, ran the baths and followed the same evening routine until they were asleep and then back to the chair. The dark lean figure, which smelled of sweat, dirt and nauseous bad breath from stale tobacco held the knife as though his life depended on it. Then in a deep quiet voice had whispered in her ear that if she was to break the routine he would slit her throat, then laughing told her he then would have no alternative but to proceed upstairs and slit her beautiful children’s throats while they slept. Lydia wept uncontrollably.

When Lydia closed her eyes, she could smell him close, feel his hands cup her face as he leaned in close whispering the same words again and again, over and over… for hours, Only death will separate us, Lydia! Remember that! Only death will separate us…

She had always told herself that no-one would ever have control over her again, that she would hold her own empowerment… yet, here she sat… tied to a chair… helpless, following the orders so they would survive. After all, the three of them had made a pact to be the three musketeers!

Chapter 2

One year earlier Lydia had found work at one of the car dealerships in Hoakley, scanning through the newspaper, contemplating going back to hairdressing, looking at the classified ads. Lydia thought if she had managed to change her life this much without going back to the past, then her work should be different too.

She was given a small company van with the dealership's logo written down the side of it and was introduced to Gary, who ran the parts department. He showed her the orders which came in from the surrounding mechanics garages within a ten mile radius.

Given a guided tour around the parts room, where the shelves reached to the ceiling stacked with boxes all blaring the descriptions of its contents in French.

The place felt like a maze to her being in quiet awe that Gary knew where everything was, to the tour of the garage, where mechanics, all dressed in blue overalls worked on cars. After he had finished, Gary delved deep into his pocket looking up at the clock. Lydia was surprised to see it was twelve –thirty in the afternoon already.

Ere ya go, love! Thrusting a ten pound note towards her. Lydia looked at him, puzzled.

What?

Well, the delivery boy always gets the sarnies! He started to laugh.

Are you kidding? And I ain't no boy! Lydia retorted.

Still laughing, he held out the note No, though seriously now, when you’re out and you come back for the afternoon deliveries, I’ll give you money before you go and you can pick up the sarnies on the way back, love.

Okay. Lydia was not sure whether he was making fun of her, but looking at his face told her he wasn’t.

She snatched the note out of his hand.

Where do you want me to go? He told her of a small sandwich shop in Hoakley and what he wanted.

Okay. She grabbed the keys to the van.

Ta, love! He shouted as she left. Lydia spun round on her heels and walked back towards him. Looking at him he was about eight years younger than she was.

I ain’t your love! Just to get that straight, huh? From the beginning, yeah? With that, she turned to leave. As the door started to close behind her, she could hear him shout Top banana! behind her.

She strode to the van, Oh crap! He thinks he’s funny to boot! Jumping in, drove into town.

The little van was plain inside. All black plastic and dirt, but at least it had a radio, a basic one, but it worked as it bumped down the road on its hard suspension. Lydia felt good about herself, another step towards her independence.

Arriving back with the ordered sandwiches and soft drinks; she had grabbed something for her nerves, too, from starting the new job had made her hungry. Gary had wheeled a chair from the stock room behind the small reception area they had. He pointed her to it.

Ere, take a seat. He pushed it towards her as she took off her jacket, throwing it on the back of the chair, handed him his lunch as she sat down

Ta, chuck. He grinned at her. So, I don’t see a ring, not married?

Why? Who wants to know? Between mouthfuls of sandwich, her hand up to shield her mouth as she ate and talked.

He was taken aback by her defensiveness.

Only asking.

You?

Nah! Too young to be tied down yet

They spent their lunchtime talking small talk, slowly trying to weigh each other up.

He told her that he wasn’t going to send her out on deliveries that day. He just wanted her to get the feel of the place. Lydia knew that the parts should be going out, as she listened to him answering the phone, but knew they would all be doubled up for the next day.

When Lydia left at three o’clock, she felt good about herself. Knowing she had time to go home have a coffee and relax for fifteen minutes before going to pick the children up from school.

As she sat in the kitchen, feeling pleased with herself, she thought about the extra one hundred pounds it would bring her each week.

Deep in thought, she scrunched her face up, wondering if she could find work in the evenings as well, after the children had gone to bed, but knew it would have to be something she could do from home.

She was given the answer two months later seeing an ad in the local paper for a telemarketer, working from home in the evenings. Dialing the number, a man answered who was called Frank. He was a mortgage broker looking for someone to drum up business for him at night by cold calling people.

Lydia at first couldn’t see a difficulty in it, becoming more enthusiastic as he spoke. They made arrangements for him to come and meet her the following evening.

It was simple to her when Frank came driving a Ford Mondeo. All she had to do was open the phone book and start calling people. He gave her a sales pitch and a criteria that he would like them to fit into, but he said it didn’t matter if they didn’t fit just take down all the answers to the questions he had printed out.

He would give her ninety pounds a week and an extra ten pounds for the people who fit his criteria. Lydia thought it would be easy.

The following night after the children went to bed, she started to call people out of the phone book. After two hours of non-stop calling she had ten potential clients for him.

Frank called her every night after that to get the details from her. Naively, it surprised Lydia that none of them fit into his criteria, which at first she thought would have been easy. For the first four months he gave Lydia a steady income of ninety pounds cash a week. His car changed to a BMW.

One Saturday after Frank left, bringing her money Lydia sat thinking about his nice new shiny car, wondering how he had managed to afford it. Mortgage broking must be more lucrative than she had imagined.

It wasn’t until she dropped Sara and Jake at Damien’s one Friday evening, telling him about what she was doing. Damien said that he believed his mortgage would fit the imaginary criteria. He would like to see if Frank could lower his monthly payments. After Lydia got home, she gave Frank, Damien’s details.

Damien, once Lydia’s’ husband and father of her two children had understood they could be friends, realized he could no longer control or make any demands on her.

They had tentatively called unspoken truce.

Two weeks later when Lydia went back to Damien’s. He told her to sit down, had even made coffee for her. This was unusual for him. Lydia felt trepidation as she accepted.

Sara and Jake went out to play as Damien told Lydia what Frank had said to him on his visit. It turned out that Frank had gone through all the fine details of the mortgage loan with him. Finally, telling Damien that if he was to proceed with the mortgage, then he had to by law, disclose his commission amount. He told Damien it would amount to around two thousand pounds.

As Damien told Lydia of this, her face became hot and her jaw dropped.

How many clients do you give him a week?

Twenty!

Didn’t you say he had bought a nice new fancy BMW?

Yes!

Lydia was stunned, all that money he’s earning and I’m only getting ninety pounds of it! She was speechless.

Lydia left Damien's thanking him for the information. After kissing and hugging the children, she went home determined to find out how it was possible to become a mortgage broker. Not an exciting profession, she thought, but obviously lucrative one. That was what she needed, more money!

Gary at the dealership was easy enough to work for. He was amiable, keeping Lydia on her toes through the day, with little comments and remarks thrown her way, either about how she looked or her little mannerisms, that until then she hadn’t even noticed herself.

He had picked up on the fact that she always rubbed the tip of her nose when she was concentrating on the orders in front of her.

He loved to make fun of her. Between them it turned into fast bantering. In the store room at the back was a small window into the garage with a sliding glass pane. The mechanics would ring a bell for the car parts they needed and if Lydia was there, she would scurry, so that when they made fun of Gary she could join in and they would all laugh.

Lydia and Gary called it ‘Brownie Points’ always trying to get one up on each other. Whenever there was something new to learn or Gary had a problem, he would call Lydia into the stock room to talk it through with her rather than discuss it out in the shop where people listened to every word. She respected him for it.

Over the months everyone had been pulled into the jokes between Gary and Lydia, even the practical ones they conjured together with other people around them. For the first time Lydia felt happy interacting with people around her.

Gary was taller than her, standing at six foot, with a strange mix of ginger blonde hair. He had a larger than life personality, which he used to hide his insecurities, considering himself a handsome stud.

Lydia thought it was funny as he never mentioned dating or going out with anyone. His tales of the weekend were all about how he had hung out with his ‘mates’

It was a Friday when he pulled a joke on Lydia. She was tidying her workspace knowing that she would be leaving in fifteen minutes, when he called her from the stockroom. Lydia sighed heavily. She was looking forward to going home today. It had been a slow day.

Lydia!

Yeah! Give me a sec! She finished what she was doing and walked back into the stockroom. He stood leaning against the shelves. Lydia saw a mechanic scurry off chuckling calling for his colleagues, dismissing him, thinking that he and Gary must have just shared a joke, nothing to do with her.

What are you doing this weekend, Lydia?

"Why?’ She didn’t like questions like this. It made her feel uneasy, what was he setting her up for now?

Dunno, you don’t seem to go out much, I mean at night.

I have kids, remember?

So? What you can't go to the pub?

Nope! She said quickly. Why the sudden interest in what I do? Oh bloody hell! She thought; don’t try asking me out, that would be too embarrassing!

Oh, just wondered, the kids go to Damien's sometimes, right? So you could go out then?

Nope! Don’t want to! Lydia knew her Saturday nights when the children were at Damian's. It included a small bottle of Merlot wine, steak and mushrooms, finished off with chocolate gateaux cake and the television. Her fire lit, giving a warm, flickering glow as she ate, watching her favorite Saturday night shows. It felt safe, cocooned in her room.

Lydia believed strongly that no man could ever come close to be as good as that or worth giving it up for. It was her night to relax.

Well, you don’t know what you’re missing out on, Lydia! There’s a big world out there you know!" He chuckled with a glint in his blue eyes.

Lydia gave him a look of ‘Are we finished here?’ Gary knew what the look was for, she wanted to leave.

OK, well if you needed anyone to talk to you know where I am, always willing to lend an ear you know!

Yeah, right, okay. It was said with joking sarcasm. Lydia wanted to leave quickly, so far she’d had the upper hand with the jokes today, she didn’t want to lose before leaving. Gary started to make his way back to the door suddenly stopping to let Lydia pass through first.

After you! He smiled. Lydia walked back into the reception area where there were a couple of mechanics hanging around from the back.

Lydia looked at them puzzled, just then her boss walked down