The Regent’s Canal

A dark outline above the water. In the low light. I looked back at the canal to see what I’d caught in the corner of my eye. The slightest ripple disturbed the algae, perhaps it was a cormorant fishing. My eyes strained looking if it would break the surface again before I walked on.

Another movement in the water made me feel uneasy and on edge. It was a hot August night and lots of people were using the towpath, I tucked myself back against the wall as a cyclist went past. A few teenagers were walking the other way to me, a corner shop bag of clinking bottles and a speaker blasting out Harry Styles. I could hear footsteps behind me as a large man in a too warm overcoat followed behind me, his pace would soon overtake mine.

The date had seemed to go well, or at least we’d chatted for most of the date. Aaron told me about his childhood exploits in rural Ireland, which I contrasted with my experience of growing up in the English countryside. We’d matched on bumble at the weekend and after exchanging several messages arranged to meet for a drink after work in Shoreditch, near where we both worked.

Getting back to the Battlebridge basin marina where my narrowboat was moored I couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed. There was no one behind me as I closed the gate and headed towards my boat ‘De De Pips’.

I heard a splash nearby and the next door boat jerked into mine, causing me to momentarily lose my balance, my heart stopping as I grabbed the handrail above the door. My keys fell onto the welcome mat and I reached my fingers out to find them.

My heart slowly returned to its normal pace as I flicked the inside light on the familiar sight of home. My breakfast porridge pan still in the sink where I’d left it this morning. I messaged Aaron to say I got home safe, had a great night and would love to do it again. Grabbing a glass of water I headed to bed to stretch out under the thin sheet. Despite the heat I never left any of the small windows open as I slept, scared that something might climb in during the night.

*

Aaron messaged me back just as I’d sat at my desk, fresh tea and a biscuit in hand. He’d had fun, but didn’t really think we clicked, and wished me well. How had I read the date so wrong, it had been a disaster and I hadn’t even realised. I turned to Jess, my friend who worked next to me, “we didn’t click, apparently”.

“Is this the guy from last night?” she enquired. At my nod she continued “well screw him, if he can’t see what a great person you are. Why don’t you try a date with my friend Jerry, he’s been wanting me to set him up with one of my friends, he is honestly the loveliest guy, just moved here from my hometown.”

I wasn’t sure having never been on a set-up date before. Picking up on my indecision she added, “look, I’ll give you his number then the ball is in your court if you want to set up a date.” Smiling she typed his number into my phone.

I’d felt watched walking home again, the sun was low, but still hot and I sweated as I upped my pace to get home quicker. The towpath was quiet and deserted as I got to the entrance to the Islington canal tunnel. It felt as though the temperature dropped five degrees and I shivered seeing the cold dank tunnel that ran under Angel Station. With relief I left the canal to walk home via chapel market, the feeling of being watched shedding as I moved through the crowds above ground.

*

By Friday evening, looking at the prospect of a lonely summer weekend, I sent a message to Jess’s friend Jerry. After much writing and rewriting I settled on:

Hey, Jess gave me your number, she said you just moved here and were looking to meet people. Are you free for a date this weekend? I’m Debrorah by the way 😊

Hi Debrorah! Jess told me I might get a text from you 😊 lucky me I’m free tomorrow afternoon x

Jerry’s reply was practically instant, the warmth in his response made me smile to myself. Before I could respond, another text came in:

I’m so glad you texted, Jess has been telling me about her super smart, super hot colleague. How about a few drinks, some snacks and a picnic rug in Regents Park? X

So, he was pretty forward, maybe coming on a little strong? Usually, I liked to be the one to suggest a date idea. Something public, not too close to where I lived, and an easy exit strategy if needed. It ticked most of the boxes, I wouldn’t feel obligated by politeness to sit through a whole meal in a restaurant, and Regents Park was buzzing with people on any sunny day. However, it was perhaps a little close to home, I wouldn’t be able to ditch him at a nearby tube station or bus stop if I wanted to make my escape. I’d just have to walk home and hope the guy won’t follow me.

Sounds great, how about 5pm? I can meet you at the entrance to London Zoo if that works for you?

Yes xxx

*

Walking along the canal to meet Jerry I was nervous. We’d exchanged a few texts reconfirming the date that morning. I picked out a flattering white sleeveless shirt, paired with high waisted chinos, sandals, cateye sunglasses and blow dried my short brown hair.

The tension seemed to rise with every bridge I passed under, moving from beneath the hot sun to a cold dark space, potent with the smell of urine. Every time I passed someone I worried about brushing up against the walls, lest it mark my clean white shirt, or that I might misstep and fall into the algae laden water.

Stepping in to a patch of weeds by the edge to let an obnoxious group of lads pass I squealed and jumped as I felt something cold and wet against the corner of my foot. Looking down I saw wet weeds from the canal, draped across my sandals. “Oi Oi!” followed by mocking laughter from the lads now behind me.

I rushed on, anxious to leave the canal, nervous to arrive too early, or too late.

A ginger haired guy, about my age and height stood outside the zoo entrance. Pinking in the sun, he checked his phone behind sunglasses in a casual short sleeved green shirt and beige shorts. The likeliest suspect for Jerry among the families and couples queuing for the Zoo.

Catching his eye, I made a little wave, “Jerry, right? I’m Deborah.” We fumbled, out of sync trying to say hello, embrace and kiss on the cheek all at once. Laughingly after we bumped foreheads, I released some of my tension in a torrent of words asking how he was? Where did he want to go? Did we need to pick anything up from the shop? Jerry beamed at me, “It’s all good, I’ve picked everything up, I thought we might like to have a wander around and when we stumble upon a good spot, settle down and dig into the provisions I bought.”

His rucksack clinking we set off into the park, walking along the cool avenue of chestnut trees.

*

Jerry was endearingly charming, putting me at ease with his gentle enthusiasm for the nature we passed, his job, our mutual friendship with Jess. It wasn’t long before we found a convenient spot in the shade to put down the rug and open the beers, Tesco’s tapas selection pack, crisps and dip.

We shared our funny stories, not noticing how the shade moved and grew. Although gradually I started to notice how Jerry was drinking three times as much as me, his stories losing their humour as he lost the thread of the conversation. When the surprisingly large number of beers he bought for the two of us were gone, he started on about finding some street food or a bar in Camden, maybe going to a club. I agreed to just the food option, it had gone 8.30pm and on standing I realised I needed something to sober me up as well.

We walked back to the regent’s canal, which seemed even more sinister in the dusk. Echoing and jarring noises of groups who, like us, had consumed to much drink and not enough food or water in the heat of the afternoon. I saw scurrying shapes along path, under the bridges, splashes and ripples in the water.

Jerry hung his arm and a good portion of his weight across my shoulders as we walked, slowing me down to his meandering pace. I regretted how the date had soured as the walk sobered me up. His touch made my clammy skin crawl, I just wanted to get a comforting burger and chips and get home, he was a dead weight stopping me from getting away.

Camden was loud, people wedged in tight around the food stalls, I made my way to get a burger, leaving Jerry behind in the crush. To my dismay he caught up to me as I waited for my order, shouting drunk conversation in my ear and not taking hint from my monosyllabic replies.

Uninvited he helped himself to my chips as I ate my burger, I could barely taste my food as I bit back my resentment. I hoped to lose him again in the crowds, but to my dismay they cleared enough to allow him to follow me out. Back on the canal I confronted him, “I’m going home, you can continue on to a bar or club, but this is the end of the night for me.” My British politeness unable to let me leave without thanking him for the date.

Walking briskly off and not waiting for a response I moved into the dark of the unlit tow path deserted for once and hoping he would leave me alone. I tried not to turn around or look as I heard running behind me and a hey, he’d obviously managed to sober up a bit. Catching my arm and pulling me to turn around, “It’s dangerous I can’t let you walk off alone along the canal.” Tugging my arm back, I told him, “It’s fine, I do this every day, leave me alone.”

“No”, his single word denial of my request more powerful than any argument of words. My upper arm still tightly gripped in his hand, I heard a hiss behind Jerry and looked to see an impossibly large shape emerge at speed from the water.

Winded I was knocked to the ground as the shape cannoned into an unsuspecting Jerry, in turn knocking me on to my back against the concrete floor. His shoulder landed on my chest. I gasped for breath as the shape lifted a struggling Jerry off me, claws piercing his short-sleeved shirt. Jerry’s legs lashed out kicking air, his free arm grabbing handfuls of algae from the creatures hard lightly furred arm.

The sandpaper rough, inhuman voice growled out, “yOU hUMANs I’Ve  sEEN yOu oN MY CaNAL. hARRass aNd hARM, kISS and KiLL.” Jerry’s movements were frantic, uncoordinated and ineffective. I struggled to move away staying on my back, frozen and unable to utter a sound. “HoW dARe You HuRT mY pRETTy.”

The creature turned to me, discarding Jerry like a toddler throwing a toy, it’s black mammalian eyes unfathomable. Unfrozen I pulled the air into my lungs to scream, pulling myself into a position to flee, before catching sight of Jerry crumpled in a heap. I shouted at the large dark shape, now still and staring, adrenalin dredging up every expletive laden insult and way to say, “Fuck Off”.

Slowly, rejected, it moved off into the water, rippling the algae. I sunk down to the floor and sobbed, heart punishing my chest as I fell into a panic attack.

*

I’m not sure how long it was before the emergency services arrived, calming me with a bottle of water and a hand slowly rubbing my back. Jerry had come around, dazed and trying to answer questions about his name, age, and address.

I accompanied him in the ambulance to A&E. We waited to arrive at the hospital, waited for his name to be called, waited for the all-clear. In those five hours we talked, it was not the sort of talk that ever comes up on a first date. We talked about death, what it would have meant to die, who we loved and would leave behind.

I asked to come back to his, scared to return to my canal boat, needing desperately to sleep. He offered me the bed while he would sleep on the sofa, adding that he had put on clean sheets yesterday. I nudged him, with a small smile, “hoping to get lucky on your date?”. He smiled back, recapturing some of yesterday’s sunshine, “maybe, it never hurts to be prepared.”

*

A couple of months have passed since that night, the hot days of summer forgotten as I settled into my new flat share with an old university friend. Mum and dad had picked me up from Jerry’s flat and took me straight home the morning after. Dad had gone back into London to pick up essentials from the boat, though I mostly lived in clothes borrowed from my mum now.

Jerry and I had texted a bit, comparing notes on how our police interviews had gone, how we had described what had happened. Though the police weren’t too convinced by our descriptions of a massive creature emerging from the canal, without a perpetrator the case fizzled out. I agreed to meet Jerry again once we had returned to London and our jobs, having both been granted compassionate leave.

Nervously, I walked up to him, he was waiting for me at a table in a pub, glass of orange juice in front of him. He was less pink and freckled than before, eyes staring unseeing into his glass, I waited for him to notice me. Looking up, a tentative smile tugged at his lips, “Hi.” I returned his hi as I sat down, then ordered my own drink through the pub’s app.

“Look, I’m so sorry about how things went down, I was a dick on that date.” He took a deep breath, acknowledging my nod of agreement. “My mum set me up with a therapist to talk about what happed when I returned home, though in the end we mostly talked about my drinking.” Jerry opened up about his feelings of guilt for being so out of control, how it wasn’t the first time he had wound people up and lost friends when he drank too much and why he had decided to go sober.

I spoke about my own anxieties following that night, my fear of bodies of water, and he listened. We talked about the changes we had both made to our lives.

We embraced on leaving the pub, and as I looked into his kind eyes and he into mine, leaned forward for a kiss.