When she woke up, there were 17 voicemails from a stranger. The call blocker on her phone had redirected them all to voicemail because the number wasn’t on the exception list, she’d set the redirect between 11pm and 7am. It was 7.01am. She got up to pee, delighting again in the ensuite bathroom that her new flat came with – so worth the higher monthly cost. But then the promotion and the pay rise made that possible.


Sitting on the toilet, she checked the call log. The first call was logged at 11.10pm, the next 11.45pm, next 12.20am, with the last just before 7am. It was probably what wakened her this early on a Saturday morning. She’d gone to bed early the night before. Curiosity getting the better of her, she pressed the button to listen to the voicemails.


11.10pm : Hi, um, you don’t know me. I’m sorry having to call you but could you call me back?


She shrugged, not a voice she knew also no name, weird. She clicked to the next message.


11.45pm : Hi, it’s me again. I hope you’ll pick this up. I know this sounds mad but I need to discuss an urgent situation with you. It’s really important that you call me back.


She raised an eyebrow. Urgent situation? Like what? It must be a wrong number. She clicked to the next message.


12.20am : Please stop sending me to voicemail. You need to call me back!


Who was this person? She clicked to the next message.


12.46am : Look I know I sound mad but I’m genuinely not making this up! You really need to call me back. It’s urgent now!


Who the hell was this? The voice was male with an Irish twang. She didn’t know anyone from Ireland.


1.05am : This is messed up, I know. I’m not crazy and I know you don’t know me but if you will call me back I can explain everything.

God, this bloke must have got her number from somewhere and now she’s got a crazy leaving her messages. She rolled her eyes and hit next message.


1.49am : Look I was hoping I wouldn’t need to do this over a voicemail. He know where you are. He know that you moved last week. He knows about your promotion and changing departments and he thinks…I think…look this would be easier if you’d just call me okay.


So this crazy bloke is calling about some other bloke cause he knows about her move and the promotion. It wasn’t exactly private information, it was on her social media, she’d talked to friends and colleagues about it. Anyway, why should she care what some bloke thinks or what this crazy thinks. She ground her teeth, why listen to the rest? Her finger hovers over delete all but she hits next message.


2.11am : Please call me! This has been going on for weeks, it’s probably more like months. He met you at that party on the roof top. I was with him, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It’s been going on since then. Please call me back.


She tried to remember the roof top party. It had been months ago. The sales team had landed this huge multimillion pound deal and she’d been part of it. Not a big part of it but it’d helped her gain the promotion. The party was to celebrate the deal. Who had she met? She’d been wearing this amazing multicoloured dress that sparkled as she moved and showed off how toned her legs had become with all the gym workouts. Loads of people said she looked beautiful that night, she’d been the centre of attention all evening and the whole company had attended, everyone with a plus one. Until now that evening shone and sparkled in her mind. She began to feel just a little uncomfortable, something in the man’s voice. An edge? A tone? Something.


2.55am :  I thought you’d call me back. I know how weird this sounds and I know you must think I’m some kind of crazy person but if you call me back, I really can explain everything. He’s been really weird since he met you. Talks about you all the time, stuff he really shouldn’t know. Please call me.


What the hell is this!


3.33am :  I’m sorry, I’ve lost track of how many voicemails I’ve left you, it must be loads. Please don’t delete them with out listening, I know this is crazy, that I sound crazy. I think he must be following you or something. He’s told me which gym you attend, the one on Church street, told me you go there after work around 6pm. He told me that you sometimes buy wine after. From the corner shop. Always red, always Merlot. You need to call me back.


Always a red Merlot. Always the gym after work at 6pm. How could anyone know this stuff? Was she being followed? Stalked?


3.41am : Look I realise how crazy this all sounds. I am trying not to scare you but I think…I believe you are in danger. Please call me back. I really just want to help.


In danger? She could almost believe it, the guy’s voice sounded... no. She shook her head, the guy’s nuts, messing with her mind. Nonsense! But she clicked to the next call.


3.52am :  Look I don’t know how much clearer I can be here. He’s been following you. He know where you work, knows about your promotion, know which gym you use, where you shop, what wine you buy. It’s not normal. I don’t want to scare you but I think you should be!


Who the hell is this? She shivered despite the warmth of the flat, her silk nightdress that had felt decadent and sensual suddenly feeling flimsy and revealing. Locks she thinks, the building has locks, security doors, key pads, there is no way. And anyway, this guy has to be bonkers. Who does this?


4.26am : I’m going to try and find you some evidence – I thought you’d believe me and call me back when I told you about the gym and the wine but there must be something that will make you listen to me and call me back.


5.46am : I’m in his bedroom and there’s this cupboard. You need to call me back! There’s all these pictures of you. At that party, at work, at the gym, with your friends. Theres a cutting from the company newsletter about your promotion, notes about your life, who your friends are. He knows everything about you! Please! You need to call me!


5.59am : I found something else. God! You’re not safe. Call me!


Should she call him back? Call the police? Is this just some crank trying to scare her? Is this real?


6.15am : I found a receipt. It’s itemised. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, can’t believe what I’m reading. You must call me! It’s for ropes and plastic gloves. Plastic sheeting. He told me yesterday that he knew how to make you notice him. He said it could get messy but he’ll fix that. I thought he meant some stupid prank. Not this!


She sat frozen. Ropes and plastic sheeting. Was she truly in danger? Surely this was just some crank! A crazy trying to scare her!


6.45am : I just realised I can link to the location on his phone. He’s been out all night.


His location. Who is calling? Who is HE? She clicks to the last call.


6.57am :  Oh God! I’m so sorry! His location. It’s your street. You’re flat! Jesus! Get out! He’s inside!


Her phone dropped from her fingers and slammed to the floor. The sound thunderous in the silent flat. Leaping to her feet she rushed to the bedroom, grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed as her bedroom door swung open. “Hello” The voice, male with an Irish twang “I’ve made sure there won’t be a mess”.