The Regret

by Dan Malakin

  ‘They’re – they’re lovely,’ she said, taking them, still feeling shaky, not quite there.

  ‘I’m sorry it’s not a real present. I’ll–’

  ‘No, no! They’re lovely. It’s like something from a romance novel. A handsome man at the door, with a bunch of flowers he picked himself. I’m just… I’m feeling a bit off.’

  He looked at her hard, as though trying to tell her something with his eyes, until she realised she was still standing in the doorway and hadn’t invited him in.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she said, but before she could step back, Lily darted in front of her and latched onto Konrad’s leg.

  ‘You come back!’ she cried.

  Konrad hoisted her up and, much to her delight, pretended to take bites out of her side. ‘I couldn’t leave before I finished my dinner!’

  He came inside, Lily holding onto his neck, and offered his other arm. Rachel stepped into his embrace, melting against his firm body, closing her eyes and breathing in the marine smell of his aftershave. He exhaled like someone who’d finally made it home.

  ‘I thought we were through,’ he said, squeezing her close. ‘All day yesterday, I thought that was it.’

  Rachel felt the power in his arm and flashed back to him pushing her on the stairs, looming over her, face tight with rage. She twisted away from him, shaken by the thought.

  Konrad’s arm stayed up, as if round an invisible version of her. ‘What did I–?’

  ‘You’re letting the heat out!’ She sidestepped him, closed the front door, and pretended to shiver.

  This needed to stop. That night had been a one off. He’d been pushed to his limit, and understandably lashed out. Saving their relationship started with forgiving him.

  Lily climbed back on the sofa. ‘Can we watch my film?’

  Konrad’s lips were pressed together but moving, as if the words inside his mouth were trying to get out. He turned his attention to Lily. ‘What film’s that?’

  ‘Frozen!’

  ‘Again,’ Rachel said, raising a grin.

  ‘That’s lucky,’ Konrad replied. ‘Because Frozen is my favourite.’

  She went to put the flowers in a vase, then they got on the sofa beneath the crochet blanket. Konrad sat in the middle, holding Rachel’s hand. She asked him how it had gone with his parents.

  He glanced at her sideways, and flashed a smile. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  A chill spread through her chest. Don’t worry about it? He stole four thousand pounds from them, made it out to be a massive deal, and now it was nothing? She wanted to peek between the curtains, check if his car was parked outside.

  ‘But you said–’ she began.

  ‘Can we not talk about the money? Please?’ He nodded to the film. They were coming to Lily’s favourite part, when Anna and Kristoff entered the frosted glen and met Olaf the talking snowman. ‘This is the best bit.’

  A moment later, Konrad turned his body to Rachel, and said quietly, ‘We made a repayment plan. I told them I needed the money for the business, and they bought it.’

  She returned his smile, but his explanation didn’t feel right. It was too easy. He’d said it was a really big deal.

  Stop it, you’re being paranoid.

  ‘Have you thought some more about what I said this morning?’ he asked. ‘I mean, I can’t stay with my folks forever.’

  What about how easily he lied to his parents? What if he was lying about forgetting his keys as well? What if he’d given them–?

  He let go of her hand. ‘Maybe later, eh?’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t think about… I just need to…’

  ‘It’s okay. Forget it.’

  They watched the film in silence. Rachel focused on the screen, where the snowman was doing his song-and-dance about how great it’ll be in the summer, while under the blanket she dug her fingernails into her arm. This was going wrong already. How could they work out how to get rid of Griffin if they couldn’t get their relationship back on track? They needed a break from the tension, an evening off. One of the chilled comfortable nights that used to come to them as easy as taking a breath.

  She knew what she had to do.

  ‘Back in a minute,’ she said, pushing off the sofa, heading for the stairs.

  ‘Hold on,’ Konrad said, rising. ‘I’ll come.’

  ‘I’m going to the loo.’

  ‘I thought we could… you know, chat.’

  ‘We will, we will,’ she said, starting up.

  He slumped back, scowling. She wanted to say something to make him feel better, so he knew it was her, not him, that she was the problem. She was on edge; she needed to do something to stop that useless lump of matter in her skull from sabotaging tonight by spewing out stuff designed to make her agitated.

  Upstairs, she placed the stool by the airing cupboard door, found the key and unlocked the money box. Konrad was here to help out with Lily, so it was okay to do this.

  If she didn’t, their relationship might not last the night.

  After the film, they went through to the kitchen to start dinner. As Rachel looked for the spaghetti in the cupboard, Konrad lifted her hair and planted a tentative kiss on her neck.

  ‘That’s nice,’ she murmured, leaning into him. A warm sensation was radiating along the length of her spine, going up her neck, spreading out as it reached her skull and smothering the scared chattering, leaving only silence. It felt as though her brain had slipped into a warm bath, after a walk of many miles through the rain.

  Konrad teased her earlobe with his teeth, bringing her back to now. ‘I’ve still got a fiver from this morning. Should I nip to the offy, see if I can get a bottle?’

  ‘A glass of wine sounds perfect.’

  He turned her to face him, and brought her close. ‘It’s good to see you smile. I’ve missed it.’

  When their lips touched, an electric spark raced down the back of her legs, giving her a pleasant shudder. ‘Hurry back,’ she murmured.

  See? Things were already better. She should definitely do this more often, like how about every day? Lesson learned – just relax. Wasn’t that what Mark was always saying? Or was that accept? Relax, accept, what’s the difference? They both sounded good to her.

  ‘I want Konrad come back this time,’ Lily said, her expression so cutely annoyed, like she was the parent, that Rachel went over and kissed her on the cheek. Lily brushed her off. ‘You promise Konrad come back.’

  ‘I promise, my sweet.’ Rachel cracked spaghetti into boiling water, and opened a jar of sauce. This was the way to be. Calm, composed. She stirred the pasta and hummed, something classical, maybe Swan Lake, she wasn’t sure. Her eyes slipped closed, and she found herself swaying. Worry about the money tomorrow. Worry about Alan Griffin tomorrow. For now, just let–

  A hand slid onto her hip. ‘I got red,’ Konrad whispered. She didn’t even hear him come back. He kissed her, tenderly, from behind her ear to the top of her collarbone, as they rocked their hips in time.

  The surface of the sauce popped and spat on the back of her wrist. Rachel yelped and shook it in the air. That was a shame, she’d had a nice buzz going on, gently drifting. Konrad moved away and opened the cutlery drawer, looking for the corkscrew. Back to the real world.

  Rachel served Lily her pasta first on her pink plate, then filled bowls for herself and Konrad. As she sat, she caught her breath. She hadn’t been paying attention and had given herself the same amount of food as him. Just the thought of eating all that clammed her up.

  He glanced up at her. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, squeezing her face into a smile.

  He stared at her, brow furrowed, like he was studying her face for a memory test. She cleared her throat and picked up her fork. Don’t get paranoid again. She twirled spaghetti until Konrad started his meal. Her heart picked up speed, and the good feeling that only moments earlier had felt so firm inside her, evaporated like mist. When was the last time she ate s
omething solid? Days ago.

  She lifted her fork and steadied her breath. You’ve got this, she told herself. Only last week you were eating full meals. She checked the table one last time then put the food in her mouth – but straight away it was too much, her teeth refused to chew, her throat closed up. She couldn’t breathe. She turned away, pressing a shaking finger to her lips, forcing her jaw to grind the pasta as she reached for the wine. She sluiced it down with half the glass before her gag reflex could force it back out, covering up her discomfort by coughing and banging her chest with her fist.

  ‘Water?’ Konrad asked, already half out of his chair.

  ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ she said, waving him down. ‘Wrong pipe.’

  She grabbed the salt and a twirl of paper towels from the counter. Not the right food, nothing more than that. Later on, when Lily was in bed, Rachel would have a glass of milk. Maybe mix more Ensure.

  She sat down, gave her plate a cursory sprinkle of salt, loaded her fork and checked the table. Lily was busy picking individual strands and laying them flat beside her plate; Konrad was stealing glances at her, a look of amusement on his face. Rachel held the paper towels under the table, her head going hazy, and thought of her mother on the back step. Oh, Mum.

  In a single smooth motion, she lifted her fork, filled her mouth, and with the other hand brought up the towels, to wipe her lips, and spat it out. Hand back down, twist the paper. She’d eat later, when no-one was watching.

  ‘Lovely dinner,’ Konrad said.

  Rachel twirled her fork again, and smiled. ‘Perfect.’

  Lily in bed, they settled on the sofa to watch television. Konrad sat upright against the arm, and Rachel was propped against him, her head resting on his chest.

  ‘Top up?’ Konrad asked, showing her the wine.

  ‘I’m good.’ She’d already had way too much. Two big glasses, along with how many Oxys? She couldn’t remember. At least two. And another when Lily went to bed? She vaguely recollected pilfering the money box… Whatever. Nothing mattered but right now. The last few days seemed far away, as though they’d happened to someone else, or had come from the plot of a BBC drama she’d watched earlier in the year. One woman driven to the edge of madness. But not her, she was fine, everything was just fine. She pressed against Konrad and sighed.

  He caressed her arm as he flicked through the Freeview channels. ‘This is funny, sometimes,’ he said, stopping on You’ve Been Framed, where they watched videos of brides getting their wedding train trapped in cars, grannies toppling off chairs, boys slamming baseballs into their fathers’ testicles. Her eyelids dropped, and she glided along on a crest of canned laughter and pratfall sound effects. Through the soft cotton of his polo neck, Konrad’s heart quickened against her cheek. She realised he was turning her towards him, and at the same time lowering his face.

  They lingered with their lips touching. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and the kiss became passionate. He lowered her back on the sofa, his hand moving to her breast, his thumb tracing the outline of her nipple. She tried to stay focused, but all she could think about was the paper towel by her mouth, the wad of barely chewed pasta inside, and with it a sad feeling, like she was saying goodbye to someone she loved, and she knew it would be for a very long time. She got rid of me, and she got–

  Konrad stopped kissing her. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Oh – sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s great, it’s fine.’

  What had she been thinking about?

  He eyed her and rubbed his mouth. ‘We can stop.’

  She shook her head and blinked her eyes wide, hoping that would stop her vision from splitting. ‘Bit tired, that’s all.’

  He tipped his head towards the stairs, shrugging. She nodded, and he pulled her up from the sofa. Her legs didn’t seem to be working right, like her bones had been replaced by ropes, and she struggled up the steps, missing her footing, her head swimming. The light from downstairs faded. In the darkness she became confused.

  She stumbled, pitched forward, falling into a pit, but someone grabbed her round the waist. Konrad. She was with Konrad. He pushed her against the wall, his mouth roaming over her neck, his breaths short and fast, his stiff dick pressing against her waist. Get in the mood, get in the mood. She rubbed the front of his trousers, making him moan and grind against her. Come on, come on. Get into it. But her mind was slippery, her thoughts fled away. Her feet were cold. Not enough food to make heat. She should have eaten more. She’d listened to that stupid voice, lying to her. In what world was it okay for her to not eat for over a day? That’d be like an alcoholic saying, it’s all right, it’s only one bottle of vodka. What if she couldn’t eat tomorrow? What if–

  ‘Rach?’ Konrad’s voice, soft, coercing. ‘Shall we take this into the bedroom?’

  He didn’t wait for an answer, moving her inside, almost pitch black, a tiny strip of moonlight coming from under the curtain. Too many Oxys. Stupid, so stupid. Just one? It was never just one. And the wine. It swirled around her stomach like acid. Focus! Get it back. You want this. He pushed her on the bed, their lips pressing, his tongue probing her mouth. It felt large and morose against hers. Her awareness slipped sideways. She forgot what was going on. Konrad. It’s Konrad. His body was too heavy – she couldn’t get her breath – she was spinning out.

  ‘Slow down,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t…’

  ‘I tried slow, but you were falling asleep.’ He shifted his weight, something clunked. ‘Now I’m going to wake you up.’

  The spinning was getting worse. Her fingers went numb. Her body broke into a cold sweat. What was going on? Where was she? How did she get here? Someone was on top of her, crushing her to the bed. She couldn’t see in the darkness. She tried to squirm away, but she couldn’t move. His hand pushed under her top. Stop, stop. Did she say that, or think it?

  Thick fingers pulled at the top of her jeans, opening her buttons. Stop it! She bucked, pushed out her knees, screaming and shoving as hard as she could. He staggered back, crashed into something. She flipped over, scrabbling on the duvet, desperate to get away. What’s happening? What’s–?

  The light came on.

  ‘What the fuck, Rachel?’

  She shielded her eyes from the shocking brightness. What just happened? Her mind was a blizzard. She saw Konrad by the switch, the horror on his face.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I – I thought…’

  ‘What are you doing to me?’ His voice cracked. ‘I asked if you want to go upstairs, and you said yes. We’re getting into it – then you throw me off? I don’t – I don’t–’

  ‘I thought…’

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘Don’t call me that!’

  ‘You’ve lost it.’

  She broke into hard sobs. ‘Please, Konrad. I–’

  ‘I’m done with you. Done.’ He struggled to fasten his belt. ‘I try to talk, you don’t want to talk. I try to have sex – you make me feel like I’m attacking you. I’ve been through hell because of you!’

  ‘Please, Konrad. Listen. I–’

  ‘I’m done listening to you. You drag me into your shit. I’ve been drowned, beaten up. It’s cost me eight grand! And instead of comforting me, you act like I’m the guilty one. You really think I’d, what? Steal money from your bank? How would I even do that?’

  ‘Let’s talk now.’ He was still by the doorway, he hadn’t left. She wanted to reach out, but didn’t want to scare him away. ‘I can explain. Please hear me out.’

  Konrad looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly, as though he’d resolved some long-standing dispute with himself. ‘I loved you, Rachel. I’d have done anything for you.’

  She stayed on the bed, stunned, as his heavy footsteps went down the stairs. The front door quietly opened and closed. Her stupor broke, and she staggered out of the bedroom.

  The air still carried the seawater scent of his aftershave. She went downstairs and turned fully around, feeling like she’d stepped
into the wrong room. What happened? What the hell just happened?

  Her mobile buzzed on the coffee table. She snatched it up – Konrad, thank God.

  It was a text, but not from him. She didn’t recognise the number.

  She tapped the message to open it, and covered her mouth. The phone fell from her hand. She scrambled back, like it was counting down to explode.

  The text read: YOU’RE ALL MINE NOW

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tactics

  Vladislav Surkov. Russian guy, high up in the Kremlin. Pals around with Putin. Unless you’re a fan of modern warfare, you won’t have heard of him.

  Distilled to tactics even dullards can understand – feel free to take offence – his strategy is this: instead of attacking your target from the front, the two of you duking it out, mano-a-mano, whoever’s got the biggest missiles and the most disposable troops wins, you don’t attack at all. You do everything but attack. You fund terrorism; you exacerbate regional conflicts, secretly supporting both sides; you spread lies and misinformation wherever and whenever you can. From the ensuing chaos, you take control.

  The principle here is the same. Attack at random. Destabilise, weaken. Conquer.

  What does she love more than anything?

  Her daughter.

  But the aim is to weaken, not to destroy. So leave the girl. Instead target work, her job, her role in the world as a good little nursey nurse.

  Here’s what you do.

  Find out the software they use to store patient records. It’s easy enough to do – ring the hospital, any ward, say you’re calling from IT support, problems in the area, blah, blah, whatever, and ask them to read out everything on the software Help page. They’ll tell you that it’s called eMAR, which stands for electronic Medical Administration Records, version 2.1.8, made by a company called Principia MCP Medicines Management, which is based in Nottingham.

  Next, a series of calls to Principia. The HR department to get names in the IT department, the IT department to get names in the software development team, the dev team to find out they outsource the bulk of their work to a code monkey warehouse in India run by Tata – a place probably bigger than an aircraft hangar and louder than a cloud of locusts from all the clacking keys, with rows of hunched programmers, a hundred wide, stretching into the distance.