"Rose," I say. "This is a surprise."
She quickly replaces her grimace with a forced smile. "I think people are surprised to see me anywhere these days. But I am beginning to emerge from behind the shadows, Katherine. Could I take a seat?"
There are no seats, just miles and miles of open, bumpy ground. My middle finger circles an imaginary space. I stand up as she sits down; my open arms catch her halfway. This is more awkward than my tear-soaked hug with my brother. I can't remember the last time I hugged this woman - this friend - I've known for so many years, but surely the last time her body felt softer, was layered with more cushion?
"It's so good to see you, Rose, so good to see you looking well, you know, all things considered..."
Her silence unrests me. I need to fill the void. My words fire from my mouth.
"Where have you been? I texted you and called you and knocked on your door. I've been worried about you, Rose. We've all been worried about you."
Rose bares her teeth. Who am I to seek sympathy? Her smile is too wide. Her cheeks plump up too much. "You were worried. Oh, and Bernard was worried. But come on, we both know the rest of the town weren't worried about me. They were the Ku Klux Klan hunting a black man. They were calling for my head..."
I'm compelled to protest; I know it's pointless. We both know she's right.
"But I'm sorry I didn't get back to you. I just wanted to hide away for a while. Christmas was pretty miserable. January was bleak. I couldn't face the world. Not then, anyway."
"So what happened? You know-"
"They locked me up. Took away the key-"
"But they let you out?"
The words are projectile vomit. Of course they let her out. She sits next to me, a free woman. I am not visiting her in a prison cell. Thank goodness.
"They arrested me, but they couldn't charge me. They haven't charged anyone. Yet. It's an open case. They couldn't prove I did it-"
"Why?"
She turns to me. Darkness circles her eyes. Her jaundiced skin is dry and flaky. She has aged since I last saw her. Back then she was the head of our group, leading from the front in her own understated way. At first the group covered her absence. We ran the sessions in her honour. Then we disowned her. She is an outsider now. We only met on Saturday mornings then. Now we meet three times a week. It has all changed. If she ever tried to come back, then she sure as Hell wouldn't be welcomed.
"Because I didn't do it, Katherine."
My teeth dig into my upper lip. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. But sometimes - legally - these things aren't so straightforward..."
She knows I've heard the rumours. The police found a return ticket to Bridgend in Rose's house. The ticket was dated just a few weeks before they found her husband's body. Dead. That was something else the villagers had to untangle - Rose had always maintained her husband died years ago. If she was capable of lying about that, then what else was she capable of?
"Well, he's dead now, isn't he?"
Her smile is mischievous. She knows exactly what I'm thinking. I can't help but laugh.
"They wanted to convict me. You better believe it. They didn't believe me. They thought I killed him. But they didn't have the evidence. God wouldn't allow it. Listen, I never denied that I'd visited him. But there is no crime in that, is there? He lay dead for weeks. It was impossible to confirm the exact date and time of death. Somebody killed him-"
"What do you think happened?"
Her eyes burn into me like a laser. "Somebody killed my husband-"
"Why would anybody kill your husband?"
She looks down, explores the grass, fading yellow. "He wasn't always a good man, Katherine. He wasn't liked by everybody. Heck, I didn't like him. But I can't say he deserved to die. Who deserves to be killed?"
My anguished face tells her - hopefully - that nobody deserves to be killed. We sit in silence. I tear at the grass, throw it into the wind. "I'm so sorry, Rose," I say.
"I'm sure you don't have anything to be sorry about, Katherine," she says, brown eyes watering.
"No. I guess not. But I'm still sorry. And it is good to see you. You will keep in contact now, won't you?"
"Oh yes. Of course, dear. You'll be seeing a lot more of me now. Plenty of people will."
Does she intend to return to the group? I should warn her off, for her own good. I decide she doesn't mean that. She can't mean that. I don't mention it.
"So what next?"
"I'm going to find out who killed my husband. Who set me up..."
"And?"
"And I'm going to take revenge, Katherine," she says. "That's what I'm going to do."
Sheena
We sat in this same dreary cafe, four or five months ago now, the first time she told me.
Apinya's scarf twisted around her neck like a snake on a stick. The winter cold gave her cheeks a healthy glow, offset by the cutest Rudolph nose. The way she carried on, you'd think we were on an expedition to Antarctica. In contrast, I felt like I was experiencing a premature hot flush; the burning radiator next to my thigh made my skin feel dry and flaky. With my chin sunk into my upturned hands, I watched with fascination as Apinya sucked vanilla milkshake through a plastic straw, an excited adolescent keen to tell her best friend that the captain of the rugby team had asked her to the Prom.
"Do you remember that guy we saw in here? Last year. Way before Christmas...?"
Of course I remembered. I planted the seed. Naturally, she is oblivious to this.
I shrugged my shoulders. Narrowed my eyes. "No. Don't think so. There are so many guys around. Frankly, I don't take much notice."
She shrunk; a bird caught in the rain.
"You know. He was with Ray, Kat's husband..."
"Oh, that guy? Rob?"
"Yes! So you do remember?"
"Barely." I took a long slurp of milkshake. "What about him?"
Her cheeks plumped and, I swear to God, her tiny, child-like tits perked up. Who needs plastic surgery when you have gossip to share? "I've been seeing him..."
"You dirty little bitch," I said. "I'm so proud of you."
Naturally, she'd been worrying about my possible reaction. She'd worried about all the things she should have worried about. What about your husband? How do you feel about cheating? I planned to dismiss these thoughts so quickly she'd feel paranoid and ridiculous for even contemplating them. My approval had begun to mean everything to her, like a thousand Likes of an Instagram post. It was official. We were now Best Friend's Forever (BFF). Apinya was my Bestie. What the fuck was that about? I smiled at the effect I had on her. I could almost sense the relief escape her diminutive body.
"Honey, why are you proud of me? I'm married. I'm cheating. Surely it's not a good thing...?"
I brushed my hand across the table as if to indicate her sacred vows were just surplus red tape. Bureaucratic nonsense. My eyes admiringly scan her figure. "Oh come on. Can a woman like you really be expected to stay with just one man?"
Her ruby red mouth widened into a perfect circle. "You dare to be different, Apinya. You're ballsy. I love that. The people in this town - and you know how much I adore them - well, they're just a bit fucking boring, aren't they? They all play perfect happy families. Probably plot their weekly shag - just after Match of the Day - on the calendar with cat pictures pinned to the fridge. How can doing the same things day after day not drive them mad?"
"Well, when you put it like that, Sheena-"
"You've got guts, darling. How many other women in the village can say they're fucking another - younger - man behind their husband's back? Not many. Sure, they probably fantasize about it, probably when their husband is actually inside them, but do you think they'll do anything about it? Of course not. They're all too busy staring at the walls, too busy waiting for their lives to drain away. But as I said - you're different, sweetheart. You know what drives you...?"
Her raised eyebrows encouraged me to tell her.
"You're driven by excitement."
&n
bsp; Apinya brushed away this compliment with the cutest, dimpliest smile.
That was back in winter. The soggy yellow and brown autumn leaves had dried and were curling at the corners, like a party sandwich left on a plastic plate for too long. Now the daffodils and snowdrops have outstayed their welcome. Summer is already peeking through the clouds, checking to see if it's too early to join the party. When Apinya leans forward, fluttering her painted eyelashes, I know she has another revelation to share. Lucky me!
"Rob is so lovely," she says. "The sweetie bought me flowers from the petrol station the other day. Darling, they were so cheap and pathetic looking - I swear they were already dead - I had to put my hand to my mouth to stop giggling. But at the same time, I nearly cried. How sweet was that? He doesn't have much money - he's always complaining that Ray pays him peanuts and he works so hard - and he chose to spend it on me, to show how much he loves me..."
"What did you just say?"
"He loves me, Sheena. I truly think he loves me."
Leaning back in the plastic chair, I glance over both my shoulders. I knew this was coming. It was scripted. Apinya is gorgeous - and thin - how wouldn't this boy fall in lust and confuse it for love? And Apinya, bless her, well she doesn't have much going on in that life of hers - of course she'd be flattered by this young man's attention, by his adulation. Regardless, I still need to give the impression I'm absolutely astounded by this latest revelation.
"Listen here, Apinya, and listen good. This is not about falling in love. You have a husband at home for that. Do you hear me?"
Her flinch tells me the message hit home. Nodding, her chin disappears into her neck. Our hierarchy has shifted. Suddenly she is a little girl trying to make sure the school bully doesn't steal her dinner money. "I'm sorry, Sheena. I didn't understand what you meant about having fun with him..."
"Oh you can have fantastic fun," I say. "The whole thing is fantastic, Apinya..."
Her face brightens. I sense her skin tingling. Her nose crinkles like a bunny rabbit. She's confused. "Oh good."
"See it as the dirtiest, most exciting fun you've ever had in your life. See it as a forbidden fruit. Outrageous fun..."
"Oh yes. It really is."
I look away before leaning back in. I whisper my words. "But frankly, dear, this is all getting rather boring now, don't you think?"
"Oh." She tangles her fingers together with such force I worry a bone might snap. She looks down. "Why do you think it's boring?"
I fold my arms across my chest. I'm not wearing a bra, and momentarily I'm struck by the hardness of my nipples. "It's your life. I'm sorry. You shouldn't take any notice of me. Forget I said anything-"
"No, please..."
"You sure?"
"Please."
I release a tired sigh. Okay, you've forced me into this. "It's just all this romance talk. Like I said, you have a husband for that-"
"What should I do?"
"Make it more exciting."
"How?"
My darting eyes pretend to check nobody is listening. There are only a few old dears in the cafe, shopping trolleys pulled up close to their tables; I don't think they can hear anything anyway.
"Has anyone seen you together?"
A shadow reappears. "No. God, I hope not. I've been careful."
"Good. Make sure nobody sees you, otherwise this will all be ruined. But does he tell Ray anything? And does Ray tell Kat? We both know Kat has a mouth on her-"
"He swears he tells Ray nothing."
Is she convinced by that any more than I am?
"Great. Nobody can know. Apart from Bernard. Of course, he needs to find out at some point..."
"What?"
I wish I could take a picture, hang it on my wall.
"Okay, so this isn't all about me, Apinya. But you know what excites me the most about this little adventure of yours?"
"No. What?"
"The thought of you nearly getting caught, of you doing it in places where you might just get caught..."
"Oh yes," she says, twirling her long dark locks. "That is exciting."
"Can you do me a favour? For me?"
"Yes. Anything."
"Get a thrill out of nearly getting caught. Then get a bigger thrill out of getting caught."
She gasps. I could slot a penny in the dimples that appear in her cheeks. "Then what?"
I smile. "Then we'll see just how much that husband of yours really loves you. Then we'll see how much of a man Bernard really is..."
Saturday 14th June 2019
Katherine
Sheena fires compliments at me. Is she on a mission to make my head explode? Stop it. Oh, keep going...
"Can't believe how many men were checking you out tonight, darling. I felt invisible..."
"Don't be silly."
"Honestly! But you are looking hot. You always have, of course. But now you've lost a few pounds, those wonderful curves have really come out to play..."
We both know I've lost more than a few pounds. My old size eighteen clothes hung from my body like a shapeless tent. I bagged them up and dropped them at the charity shop. It felt like I was offloading not just worn clothes, but an old life. Tonight I sucked in my belly and squeezed into a - wait for it - size 12 top. Twirling in the mirror, I checked from every angle, tried to view it as objectively as I possibly could, through the bitchiest of eyes, and - definitely - the top was not too tight. My boobs on the other hand, well they looked fantastic - soft and round and delightfully big. I imagined him looking at me, shaking his head; I allowed myself a sly smile.
I always knew, deep down, that I could lose weight. It didn't make sense that I couldn't. I'd never tried. I've always worried what he'd think. What others would think. They'd no longer view me with those sympathetic eyes. He always worried about me drawing too much attention to myself. It was part of the plan. Logically, if I moved more, and ate less, something remotely like I did in my late teens, then I'd stop expanding and start shrinking. There has been no magic formula. No scientific eating plan. I've just cut out the treats (which I realised I didn't really crave after all), eaten smaller portions, and walked, first a mile or two every day and now some days up to ten miles. It's not just about the weight, though; it's about the attitude.
I no longer worry what he'd think. Now I think I'll show you.
My bare forearm is wet and clammy against the burger bar table. Everything here is slippery, including the freshly mopped floors. Outside, the orange street lights flicker in the receding darkness. A few months ago I would have been snug in my bed like the rest of civilised society. Within a few hours the birds will wake, and shortly afterwards alarm clocks will ring across the country, officially bringing in a new day. We're the only group here. There are no other females. The other tables are occupied with singletons, some nursing sore heads after a night out; others with crumpled bodies that look like they have nowhere else to go.
I have a home. A bed. A husband.
Sheena sucks a fry into her mouth as elegantly as if it were a cigar; she could so easily belong in a black and white movie. "I really adore this new you," she says.
My cheeks widen. My dimples are probably on display. "Thank you," I say. "Although I didn't really realise there was a new me."
She looks away. She thinks I'm fishing for another compliment, and she's all out of those. "The thing is, though, I'm still not sure whose side you're on..."
She has struck a match. Now she is ready to throw it on the fire.
I turn to Apinya for support. Why do I bother? They are as thick as thieves these days. Apinya only repeats things Sheena has already said, or thoughts Sheena planted in her mind. They've stripped off the sheep's clothing; now the two wolves circle their prey, noses pressed forward, foaming at the mouth.
"Side?"
“Are you with us, or with them?”
I know who the 'us' is. We started meeting on Wednesday evenings before Christmas. Now we meet on Monday evenings, too. Unless you have a
good reason for not being there, you're excluded after missing two meetings in a row. Why? It is all about commitment. We are a family, and we work on total, unequivocal trust. Sheena is testing this trust and commitment with me now.
This morning's meeting was an eye-opener. After welcoming the ladies, I quickly retreated to my seat at the back of the room, allowing Sheena to take centre stage. This, I've gathered, is her preferred role. Sheena bypassed any greetings, forfeited any niceties.
"We all trust each other don't we, ladies?"
The room responded to the affirmative.
"I trust you ladies with my life," Sheena said.
"Me too," Apinya chipped in. A few women raised their eyebrows.
"Prove it to me. I'd like one of you to share your darkest secret. Something you wouldn't dare share with the outside world. I yearn for you to test just how much you trust the women sat in the room. Do you view them as your family?"
Predictably, silence filled the room. I examined my fingernails. I suspect I wasn't the only one. From the corner of my eye I spotted a raised hand.
"Yes, Moira?"
"I slept with my husband's brother," she said.
"Jesus Christ, woman," Apinya yelled. "You don't mess about do you, sister?"
A few women exchanged glances. Moira is a sixty-something-year-old grandmother who sometimes passes idle minutes by knitting. "I know it sounds shocking," she said.
Sheena's face remained expressionless. That one isn't easily shocked. If anything, her eyes softened. "These things happen, Moira. We all make mistakes. Only the self-righteous, the deluded or the judgemental would be shocked by your brave revelation."
"We'd only just got married-"
"The early years are often the most difficult-"
"No, you don't understand, dear. We'd literally just got married. I slept with him at the reception after the ceremony-"
"Holy Mother of God, Moira, you're some sort of freak!"
I AM HERE TO KILL YOU Page 14
