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‘Becky. Becky!’

I’d been powering along the footpath, my mind moving through the list of errands that I needed to get to on a rare morning off. But the sound of his voice, and hearing a name I’d not used in years, brought my world to a standstill. I kept moving, instinct guiding me on. Nobody in this town, in this state, could know me by that name. And his voice was one that I’d hoped to never hear again.

Eyes flicking rapidly back and forth, old habits kicked in. I scanned ahead, noting possible avenues of escape, options for obfuscation. I searched for reflective surfaces to get a sense of where he was, whether he was following me, or if he’d simply shrugged and gone on his way.

But even as I had the thought, I knew it was delusional. Mac was a professional. He wouldn’t let a lead go. I kept my pace steady, not wanting to draw attention. A tradie’s van with a battered side panel paused on the lane I was preparing to cross. As the passenger window sidled past, dusty from residual topsoil that coated most surfaces in the town, I saw him. He was a block behind me, matching my pace, a phone jammed to his ear.

I stepped behind the van, and walked into the fruit and veg shop. Tony, the owner, gave me a smile as I made my way towards the two old fridges that formed a sentry on either side of the camouflaged door leading to the back of house and staff entry. In seconds, I was on the other side, pausing for a moment to try to get my breathing and heart rate under control. I wiped my hands on my jeans, feeling reassured by the familiar shapes of keys in a front pocket and phone in a back pocket. If I had to, I could disappear.

There was a smudge of movement on the grainy CCTV that Tony had installed over the rear exit after some vandalism a couple of years back. I shuddered as I saw Mac’s solid shape, pacing back and forth. He clocked the camera and stopped, shifting just outside its range. I swallowed hard. Had he been looking for me, or was this an unlucky coincidence? I knew what he was like: tenacious and dogged. My mind grasped for options, but none of them stuck. Staying here wasn’t one of them.

But I had a home-ground advantage. I spun on my heel and headed through the staff door to the front of the shop. I gave Tony a wave as I stepped outside, wanting to run but knowing it would be the wrong move. To be in control, you have to believe in yourself. There had to be a way out of town, to some place where Mac wouldn’t think to look. I just had to find it.

Photo: Detail of a mural at Katoomba, NSW