The Anita Waller Collection

by Anita Waller

  She sat for a moment to catch her breath, then stood and grabbed the handle of the suitcase. She felt as though she was going off on a camping trip. It was heavy, but she didn’t care. She could bump it down the stairs; she didn’t think she could carry it down. She would have to roll it into the boot; an incapacitated Claudia wouldn’t be able to help.

  Heather wheeled it to the top of the stairs, and then went back to close the doors of the main bedroom and the spare room. She didn’t really want Owen knowing she had been there, if she could help it.

  Before closing the main bedroom door, she went in the room and paused for a moment. She glanced around and let her mind drift to the early days of their life there, the laughter they had shared in that room, the love they had enjoyed. All gone.

  She sighed, closed the door, and turned around to head to the top of the stairs. On the third step from the top was a furious Owen.

  ‘What the fuck…?’ he roared, and she saw him sway. His speech was slurred, and she knew she was in trouble.

  For a moment she froze, then felt the sob begin to build inside her. She moved fast.

  Pulling the suitcase to block the top of the stairs would give her precious negotiating seconds, time to calm him down. She grabbed hold of the handle and tugged. So did Owen. She opened her fingers and allowed it to fall.

  It was almost slow motion; the suitcase tipped towards an already staggering Owen, and his balance went completely. The overweight case tumbled down the stairs taking him with it. He tried, to no avail, to hold onto spindles as he bounced on every stair, cracking his head with a very loud thud as he hit the newel post at the bottom.

  Heather stared, unable to move. It seemed from where she was standing that the suitcase had survived the fall, but Owen hadn’t. Her legs trembled, and she had to drop to the floor.

  Slowly her brain began to surface. ‘Ambulance,’ she muttered. ‘Need an ambulance.’ She reached into her jeans pocket for her phone, then remembered it was in her handbag, in Claudia’s kitchen. House phone. Hallway. Downstairs. Past Owen.

  Heather stood, her legs still shaking so badly she didn’t think she could get downstairs. She walked slowly, clinging onto the banister.

  Owen wasn’t moving. The suitcase was on its side, about two metres away from him. Heather wanted to scream, wanted to do anything except touch her husband. She stopped, still three stairs up, and looked at him. His eyes were open, staring.

  She knew she had to pass him to get to the phone but didn’t know if she could do it. Slowly she moved down one more step, then another, until she was near his head. She bent down and felt for a pulse. She had no idea where to place her fingers, so tried in several places. Nothing, she couldn’t feel anything.

  Claudia would know. Claudia was her company’s designated first aider. She would know what she was doing.

  Heather skirted around his head, her eyes never leaving him. Stumbling, she walked down the hall and through the kitchen, opening the back door to let in some fresh air; she breathed it in. She went through the small gate into Claudia’s garden, and walked to her back door.

  ‘Claud,’ she said, and Claudia looked up to see her friend clutching onto the door jamb.

  ‘It’s Owen,’ she said. ‘He’s drunk, and…’

  ‘And what?’ There was anguish on Claudia’s face as she could see something had happened to Heather.

  ‘And I think I’ve killed him,’ she said, and vomited all over the kitchen floor.

  Chapter 6

  Claudia knelt and placed her fingers on Owen’s neck. Nothing. She shook her head. ‘Sorry, Heather, but he’s gone. We need to think.’

  ‘Don’t we need to send for an ambulance?’ There were tears running down Heather’s cheeks.

  ‘No, I’ve a feeling that’s the last thing we need to do. Grab that suitcase and let’s get out of here. There’s nothing that says you’ve been here, is there?’

  Heather shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘Right, let’s go back to mine and take time out. We need to decide what to do next. And we need to get that bloody suitcase in the car. James has just rung, he’s staying overnight in Leeds, so we don’t have him to worry about.’

  Heather edged around Owen’s inert body and heaved the suitcase upright. The wheels ran over his splayed fingers as she tried to manoeuvre it around him, and she thought she was going to be sick again. Claudia held doors open for her to pass through them, and she tugged the suitcase behind her.

  Two minutes later, it was stowed in the car and they sat at Claudia’s kitchen table. She handed Heather a glass of water.

  ‘Drink that, and don’t faint on me. We have to think now. If we send for the police, they’re going to take you in. I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. You’ve left him because of his drinking, and there’s proof that is an issue because you’ve changed your bank accounts, so he can’t keep taking your money, and when they do the tox screen it’s going to show up exactly how much alcohol is in him. They’ll say you pushed him. And if you pushed him, it’s murder. They’re never going to believe it’s accidental.’

  She hesitated, trying to grasp at something, anything that could help.

  ‘I think we have to say you’ve not been here this afternoon. We’ll head off to the flat in a minute with you on the floor in the back, and me driving. We have to put your house out of our minds. Let’s face it, was he drunk enough to have fallen downstairs anyway, without your help?’

  ‘Oh he was. He was staggering, slurring his words. It’s why he grabbed hold of the suitcase, he needed help to balance. Problem was, it moved, and both him and the suitcase tumbled down the stairs together. I heard the bang as his head collided with that newel at the bottom of the stairs. God, it was awful, Claud, awful.’

  ‘Then we have to leave him. It could be days before someone finds him, and then the time of death will be much harder to accurately predict. Especially if we turn up the heating.’

  ‘You mean I’ve to carry on as if this hasn’t happened?’ Heather looked shaken.

  ‘You have if you don’t want prison. You’re already dodgy – you didn’t send for an ambulance straight away. Now come on, let’s get to the flat. It will all seem much brighter when we’re away from the house.’ Claudia winced as she stood. The numbing effects of the anaesthetic were wearing off. She took two painkillers and pulled on her coat.

  She locked the kitchen door and they walked towards the front of the house. Claudia exited first and checked there was no one around, then opened the rear door on the passenger side. Heather ducked down and climbed inside the car, getting as flat as she could on the floor. Claudia threw a blanket over her and climbed into the driver’s seat. She pulled out onto the road, indicated left and waved at Irene Patterson, a neighbour from two doors down. Claudia pulled up alongside her and asked if she was all right. Irene assured her she was fine, and they said goodbye. Claudia wanted Irene to be able to say there was nobody in the passenger seat, should it ever be necessary to say anything on the subject.

  On reaching the flat, she was relieved to see that the bakery was closed. She held open the rear door, and a stiff Heather climbed out.

  Heather dragged the heavy suitcase upstairs, one painful step at a time, and then went down to bring the bag that Claudia had packed, and her own suitcase from the hotel. She sank onto the floor in the lounge and leaned her head back against the wall.

  ‘What are we doing, Claud?’

  ‘We’re keeping you safe. Now, we, or should I say you ’cos I don’t think I can do it, are going to blow up this bed, sort out some bedding for you, and get you set up for the night. Tomorrow I am going to organise the delivery of two double beds, so I’ll need you to stay here to take them in. I’m also going to buy a couple of reclining loungers for the patio that we can use in here until we can organise furniture. At least we’ll be able to sit down. You have to put your positive head on, Heather, because sooner or later the police are going to turn up he
re.’

  Heather wailed. ‘And how do we get around that? Nobody knows we are here. Who can tell them where I am? They are going to immediately assume I had something to do with his death and I’ve legged it.’

  ‘But you haven’t. They’ll check Owen’s phone, and they’ll ring you. That’s when you tell them you’ve left him, and you left Wednesday night, sleeping at mine. You have proof you were in the hotel Thursday night, proof we were here getting this flat today, proof we were at the hospital before cancelling your hotel, and then I dropped you off here. You haven’t seen Owen, Heather, you haven’t seen or spoken to him. And you didn’t want to see him, but you didn’t want him to be so drunk that he fell down the stairs.’

  Heather nodded miserably. ‘You’re so logical, Claudia, you’d have made a brilliant criminal.’

  Claudia laughed. ‘Thank you. I kinda think that’s a compliment, but I’m not sure.’

  Heather eventually slept. Many times during the night she relived the bang as Owen’s head hit the newel; she had an awful feeling if that hadn’t happened, he would have survived the fall.

  The inflatable bed was reasonably comfortable and when she clambered out to face a bright sunny Saturday, she felt rested. She was very grateful that a kettle had been part of the kitchen’s fixtures and fittings, and she made a cup of coffee which she took back to bed with her.

  The sunlight had woken her; her first job had to be getting the curtains up. There had been a text from Claudia the previous night saying that the beds would be arriving between noon and two; under normal circumstances this would have been greeted with excitement. Nothing would ever be normal again.

  She finished the coffee, shook out the curtains and laid them on the floor while she attempted to free a screw with a knife. Eventually it loosened, and she managed to slide the curtain pole off. She had nothing to stand on and at full stretch she could just about manage to hang them, she figured.

  Half an hour later she stepped back to admire them. They were a little bit creased, but she guessed the creases would eventually drop out. She hoped so – they didn’t have an iron.

  James arrived home shortly after eleven, tired after spending the night with Marilyn, an unexpected bonus that had ended his week nicely. He could tell that Claudia was a little stiff when she moved her right arm, but she seemed to be okay.

  He took his overnight bag upstairs and emptied it, then went down to rejoin his wife.

  ‘It went well, yesterday?’

  ‘It did. They said there’s nothing to worry about, and I’ll get a letter in about three weeks discharging me. It’s a bit sore, but not enough to merit painkillers, so that’s good.’

  ‘Right, so do you want to know my itinerary for next week?’ He didn’t wait for her answer. ‘Monday and Tuesday, I’m in Leeds, Tuesday evening back home, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, Doncaster.’

  ‘Busy week then. Things seem to be stepping up.’ She tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice, but it was difficult.

  ‘You’re okay with me being away so much?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. Missing Heather, though.’

  ‘Missing Heather? Why? Where is she?’

  ‘She’s gone, left Owen. Couldn’t take the drinking any more. And he wouldn’t do anything about it, so she went. She’s in a hotel but looking for somewhere to rent until things are sorted.’

  ‘What? You serious? I’d best go see Owen, see how he’s handling it. He’ll fall apart without her.’

  Claudia felt nauseous. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Where had this caring James surfaced from, and was it permanent? She hoped not, and somehow, she needed to stop him going next door.

  ‘He’s not here. He said he was going to his brother’s place for a few days, asked me to keep an eye on the house.’ She held her breath while James digested the information.

  He nodded. ‘Probably the best thing he could do, I’ll see him when he gets back.’

  She waited, but he made no mention of Heather. To him, it was obviously all Heather’s fault.

  Claudia breathed a sigh of relief that one more crisis had been averted. She didn’t want anyone in that house for a couple of days. It had been awful having to go back in and turn up the heating, but the more fudging they could do to timelines the better. And it had been at the last second that she had thought to pull a tissue from her pocket before touching the thermostat dial; anyone would expect her fingerprints to be in her best friend’s house, but not on the thermostat dial.

  He stood. ‘I’m going in the office. Got some stuff to type, spreadsheets to update, that sort of thing. You’ll be okay?’

  She didn’t know who this stranger was. Or why he was being considerate. That person had stopped existing a long time ago.

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’m taking some flowers over to the cemetery later. I’ll do us some lunch before I go.’

  He looked at her without speaking, then nodded.

  He had only been to Ella’s tiny grave one time, the week after they buried her. His collapse had been spectacular, his grief finally becoming visible. After keeping strong for his wife, Harry and Zoe, throughout the dreadful week following the baby’s birth, suddenly James had given in.

  Claudia had had to drive them away from the graveside, an inconsolable James by her side; they reached home, and he told her he would never go again. She never understood his stance on it. She took comfort from telling her tiny daughter about her brother and sister, and everything they did as a family.

  That day, her trip to the cemetery would disguise her trip to see Heather.

  The text from Heather came at almost exactly midday and told Claudia of the arrival of two new beds. It also added that she needed two further pillows – they had enough bedding in the stuff she had brought the previous night, but had only had two spare ones in the house. She responded immediately. Will bring everything Monday. James here atm. Won’t take risk of him seeing me carrying pillows. You need anything else? Calling round to see you about two.

  Claudia was making a sandwich to take upstairs to James when she heard the sound of laughter. Harry, Emma his partner, along with Zoe and David, all piled in through the back door.

  ‘Hey, it’s lunchtime,’ Harry said, before bending to kiss his mum’s head. At six feet four, Harry tended to bend down to everyone.

  Emma grinned. ‘I can’t believe you’re actually part of this family, nobody else is tall.’

  ‘Hey,’ Zoe joined in, ‘I am five feet one, you know.’ They laughed and patted her on her head. She was by far the smallest in the room.

  ‘So, are you all here for lunch?’

  ‘No, Mum, don’t panic. We’ve called to tell you something.’ Harry smiled, and pulled Emma towards him. ‘I’ve asked Emma to marry me. I think she said yes.’

  Emma held out her left hand; the diamond sparkled as she wiggled her finger.

  ‘You only think she said yes?’ Claudia laughed.

  ‘She burst out crying. I assumed she meant yes so I put the ring on her finger.’ Harry’s smile creased his face. ‘No wedding plans yet, but probably this time next year.’

  Claudia pulled Emma to her and hugged her. ‘That’s wonderful news. Let me go tell Harry’s father.’

  James, aware of the laughter and commotion in the kitchen, was already half way down the stairs.

  ‘James, Harry has some good news.’

  James said nothing, merely walked into the kitchen, ignoring his wife.

  He instantly became the life and soul of the party, kissing both Emma and Zoe, and shaking hands with Harry and David. David moved to Claudia’s side.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked quietly. ‘No more doors to walk into?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you, David,’ she said. ‘It’s been a quiet week. Are you two good?’

  ‘Very good. As you know so very well, I love the bones of your daughter. I hope Harry and Emma will be as happy as we are.’

  ‘I’m sure they will.’ Claudia sighed. ‘It doesn’t
seem two minutes since they were little kids, creating havoc. And now look at them.’

  There was a loud pop as James opened a bottle of champagne and poured into the six glasses he had lined up on the kitchen side. He handed them around and raised his own glass.

  ‘To Harry and Emma, congratulations and many happy years together.’

  They all echoed ‘Harry and Emma’ and Claudia returned her glass to the work surface. She was going to be driving in another hour or so and didn’t want alcohol stopping her doing that.

  ‘Do you have any plans, yet?’ James asked.

  ‘None. We told Emma’s parents this morning, then called around to tell Zoe and David before bringing them here with us to tell you. However, one plan we do have is to invite all of you, plus Emma’s parents, to a meal next Saturday. I’ll have to tell you the venue later, when we know we can get a table.’

  Claudia felt sick. By the following Saturday she wouldn’t be there, and she couldn’t see James wanting to go on his own.

  ‘That will be good,’ James said, saving Claudia from having to say anything on the subject.

  ‘And what are you doing now?’ Claudia asked, her voice slightly too raised, her eyes slightly too bright.

  ‘We’ve tickets for the match, so we’re off to Hillsborough. Perfect way to celebrate our engagement,’ Harry said, taking hold of Emma’s hand. ‘Couple of beers first, then football. Can’t beat it.’

  They finished their champagne, and ten minutes later the house was in recovery mode, peaceful, calming once more. Claudia finished the lunch she had made and took it upstairs to James before telling him she was heading off to the cemetery.

  His eyes didn’t leave the computer screen. ‘Thanks. You okay?’