Report
It’s a crime on the rise yet the damage done to women’s lives is still not truly understood
Ask around your female friends and the chances are someone you know will have been stalked at some point. It’s a crime that blights the lives of more than 1.5 million people every year – mainly women. But while cases are on the rise across Britain, according to official figures, few understand the devastating effects on the victims. Worse, say campaigners, the law is not doing enough to help.
‘He’ d hide in the bushes, staring in’
When I bought my dream home in the idyllic Cotswold countryside in autumn 2020, I planned to write and work in a peaceful environment. But peace was the last thing I experienced in that house. The nightmare started before I even had the house keys. I asked the departing owner’s permission to park outside so I could take my disabled mum for a walk.
We returned to find a van had blocked my car and a man appeared, aggressively accusing me of trespassing and letting my dog foul on his property. I was stunned – it was complete rubbish.
The next time I saw him he was full of apologies and creepily friendly. I was there every day renovating the property before moving in and my neighbour’s unhealthy interest became more and more worrying. He was constantly around, offering unsolicited advice. Every time I went into the garden, he was there. Watching me.
One day I was working on a podcast edit, wearing headphones, when he suddenly appeared in the house. He’d climbed over the wall and walked in through the conservatory. I had workmen around so there were people coming and going, but realising it was him gave me a massive fright.
Another time he appeared holding a sandwich and said, ‘You haven’t eaten yet, have you?’ Then he stood waiting for me to eat it. I tried to set boundaries but was scared of offending him. Even polite rebuffs seemed to antagonise him and the stalking escalated.
On the first morning after moving in I woke while it was still dark and went to wash my face in the kitchen sink. I looked up and he was staring at me through the window, like in a horror movie.
Soon he was standing on an elevated spot in his garden, in just a dressing gown, looking into my bedroom. He’d hide in the bushes or stand in the darkness, staring in. Instead of enjoying my beautiful view, I put mirror film on my windows and kept the blinds down. I was too on edge to leave my conservatory door open, do the gardening, walk my dog or even wear certain clothes. When my friends visited, he’d be outside listening. I put up a bamboo privacy screen, but he flew into a rage and butchered my hedge.
I reported him to the police, who told me to install expensive fences, security cameras, alarms and new locks. I did my part but felt my fear was
