The Life She Wants

by J. M. Hewitt

  He went to stand, planting his big hands on the armrests. Anna took two steps forward and raised her right hand. The knife slid out, an extension of her fingers. She didn’t look at his eyes, or his hands, but kept her focus solely on the target area as she bent slightly and deftly flicked. The blade sliced cleanly through his carotid artery. The blood gush was instant.

  One… two… three…

  She put one hand on his shoulder as he bucked forward, angling herself so she stood clear of the jet. She watched its trajectory, up and over, hitting the glossy drinks cabinet, running down bright red against polished white wood.

  Four… five… six…

  She glanced down at Mark, his mouth flapping uselessly. Eight seconds for him to lose consciousness. She applied a little more pressure to his upper arm to keep him from moving to plug the flow.

  Seven… eight…

  It was done.

  She moved back to survey the damage. The blood could have been worse; it hadn’t touched the rug underneath the chairs, just the cabinet, which was dripping still, running in rivers to pool on the floor. She would tend to that first.

  She slipped off her robe and worked naked, to avoid the danger of getting blood on her clothes. She hung the robe neatly in the wardrobe, pleased to see not a single drop of Mark’s blood on it.

  From her suitcase she pulled a large plastic sheet, which she tucked behind his shoulders, wrapping it around his front like a shawl. On her hands and knees, she mopped up the puddle and roughly cleaned the cabinet with cloths that had been packed alongside the sheet. When there was no risk of the blood getting on anything else, she opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The sun was fully up now, silvery white and yellow beams against a perfect blue sky. She walked over to the railing and squatted for a closer look at it. No gate here, unfortunately, unlike the top deck.

  She looked back inside at Mark’s inert body. He was a big guy. She’d put him at twelve stone at least, maybe more, almost double her own weight. The railing on the balcony came up to her chest, and though it was a clear drop down into the ocean, there was no way she could lift his corpse up and over.

  She ran her hand over the railings again, feeling for the bolts. Just two in each, joining the white rails to the side supports. If she had a spanner, she would only need to remove one rail and she could slide Mark’s body out.

  She glanced around, grateful for the solid brick walls that divided her from the deck to the left, and Paula’s Expedition Suite to the right. The white walls were floor-to-ceiling, offering total privacy from all angles, meaning she could work in peace; the only possibility of exposure was a passing ship or sailing too close to land on the starboard side.

  There was only one sticking point: she needed to find a spanner.

  Dusting off her hands, she pulled herself upright and walked back inside, closing the doors behind her.

  * * *

  ‘We’re docking again today. D’you want to get off the ship for a while?’ asked Tommy as they sat down to breakfast in the restaurant.

  Paula looked over the menu half-heartedly. What she really wanted was to go home, to be safe in her own house, with the electric gates and the burglar alarms, and call her regular salon to make an appointment to sort out her damn hair.

  She put the menu down and pulled some strands of hair around to inspect them. The covering mascara had all gone now, and the horrid orange bits were even worse than she remembered. Pulling a band out of her bag, she twisted her hair up and tied it in a bun.

  ‘Babe?’ prompted Tommy. ‘Do you want to get off and have a look around?’

  ‘Where are we docking?’ she asked. ‘And for how long?’

  ‘Åndalsnes, in Norway,’ replied Tommy as he stuffed a bread roll in his mouth. ‘It’s the last stop before Iceland, so if you want to stretch your legs, now’s your chance.’

  It was all ‘you’, she thought as she pretended to peruse the menu again. She remembered a time when Tommy had planned outings for the two of them, whether it be a picnic in the park when they were students, or a night at The Ritz when he first started earning a good wage. These days, he didn’t seem too concerned if she didn’t come along with him. If she didn’t get off the ship in Åndalsnes, he would probably hook up with Dermot, or one of the other fishing boys, or even a complete stranger. They would wind up in a little bar, the beers would flow, Tommy would get boisterous and loud.

  On the other hand, the Ruby Spirit was becoming claustrophobic, and if this was the last chance to step onto dry land before the three-day sail to Iceland, she thought she should take it. But there were things to be dealt with first.

  ‘Did you report my attack?’ she asked, lowering her voice so the neighbouring table couldn’t hear her.

  Tommy stared at her. ‘I’m going to ask why the gate wasn’t closed,’ he said carefully.

  Paula looked away, towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the sea. It wasn’t an answer. Well, it was, but it was a placatory one. He had chosen his words deliberately. It was an answer that meant he didn’t believe her version of events. She twisted her fingers together, staring down at them until her knuckles turned white.

  He was probably right. She had drunk too much and it had been bitingly cold; her senses had been dulled. The accident was her own stupid fault. After all, who on this ship would want to hurt her?

  But a niggling doubt pulsed in her head like the beginning of a migraine. Tears pricked behind her eyes and she blinked them away.

  ‘What time do we dock?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to try and book an appointment at the salon before we get off the boat.’

  ‘You’re going back there? Even after…’ He raised a hand and circled it around her head.

  ‘I have to,’ she said. ‘It’s the only hairdresser on board and I really don’t want to spend the rest of my holiday like this.’

  ‘There might be one in Åndalsnes. I could find a pub while you’re—’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll go to the salon now. I’ll find out what time we dock and I’ll meet you at the gate.’

  Pushing back her chair, she gave Tommy one last lingering glance. Tell me that you believe me about what happened last night. Tell me that my hair’s not too bad. Tell me we’re going to have a nice day together. But he had already turned away from her.

  As she waited for the elevator to arrive, she moved back a few feet and watched him. He had his phone out now, stabbing at the screen with one hand while shoving a bacon roll in his mouth with the other.

  At that moment, the lift doors opened, and Anna’s unmistakable figure appeared. She looked every inch the centre spread in a glossy magazine, with her blonde hair styled under a pink beret, wearing a tailored black coat with a tiny pink dogtooth design. Paula kept dead still as she watched her. Anna scanned the room, her gaze alighting on her target, and she glided through the restaurant towards him, feigning surprise to see him there. Paula’s insides churned as the two of them launched into an animated conversation.

  She turned and stepped into the lift, not waiting to watch as Anna pulled out a chair and joined Tommy in a breakfast for two.

  * * *

  They fawned over her in the salon, three stylists working all at the same time, deliberating, explaining, choosing colours that would not only rectify their error but enhance her hair, make it better than it had been before the incident.

  That was how they referred to it – ‘the incident’. Paula thought of it as ‘the fuck-up with the bleach’, but she would never say that. The girl from the day before was young, younger than she’d seemed at the original appointment, and now her superiors didn’t leave her side, commanding her to watch and learn and not to touch.

  And the result was worth the hours spent in the chair. For the first time in her life, her hair wasn’t dark and glossy. Now it was honey blonde, with highlights that made it look sun-kissed. To Paula’s surprise, the stylists had been right: she was enhanced.

  At
the till, she pulled out her purse, but the senior stylist waved it away. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m just glad we could fix it.’

  Paula nodded and turned to the younger woman who had wrecked her hair. ‘Thanks for sorting it out,’ she said. ‘And don’t worry, everyone makes mistakes.’

  The girl said nothing, simply offered a pinched smile before walking away.

  Paula realised that the boat had stopped and that they must have docked. She wondered if Tommy would still be waiting for her, half hoping he wasn’t; if she was with him, he would simply be interested in searching for a pub. She was looking forward to exploring the little town on her own.

  She paused at the gate, wondering where that thought had come from. Once upon a time, she had hated doing anything by herself and had felt unconfident even in a town she knew. It was why she always called Julie to go shopping with her; she had a deep-seated need for other opinions, as though she didn’t trust herself. She touched her new hair, which ran silky and soft through her fingers. Even this colour had been someone else’s idea.

  Why was she even thinking all of this? Where was it coming from?

  She sighed, pulled her coat collar up and walked the last few feet to the gate.

  ‘Paula!’ Tommy grinned and adjusted his beanie hat. ‘Looking lovely.’

  She touched her hair self-consciously and smiled back. ‘Thanks.’

  Behind Tommy, melting into the crowd of passengers who seemed to be swarming off the ship, Paula saw a cap of blonde hair: Anna.

  She turned to her husband. ‘Did Anna say anything over breakfast this morning?’ she asked.

  ‘Like what?’ asked Tommy as he took her hand. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  Paula averted her gaze, seeking Anna, but the woman had disappeared.

  ‘As we pause in the waters of the port of Åndalsnes, you might be interested in one of the fishing trips that takes place in the famous Norwegian fjords. Popular catches are herring and mackerel, pollack and coal fish, among others. Of course, if you are feeling slightly more adventurous, why not try your hand at deep-sea fishing?

  ‘Beware, though, as the waters here can be amongst the most dangerous in the world. Have you heard of Edgar Allan Poe’s “A Descent into the Maelstrom”? The maelstrom is a tidal system of strong currents and eddies that has been responsible for many shipwrecks and lost lives throughout history. Even Jules Verne spoke about it in his famous novel, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

  ‘Now the maelstrom, like all tides, is caused by the birth of a full moon. And it just so happens that the next full moon will be upon us… tomorrow…’

  Chapter 12

  Anna walked with purpose through the cobbled streets of Åndalsnes. The town was small, unremarkable, but it had what she needed and she headed straight there.

  The bell tinkled as she pushed open the door of the hardware store. A sleepy-looking elderly man was perched on a high stool in the corner. He looked her up and down before returning his attention to the open magazine in front of him.

  Anna turned into the first aisle, moving slowly, flicking her gaze left and right.

  ‘You need help?’

  She glanced towards the voice. The man had moved to the top of the aisle, standing bow-legged, scrutinising her.

  ‘No, thank you,’ she replied, turning back to commence her slow journey.

  ‘Sometimes a man knows more about what they are looking for,’ he said. ‘We don’t see many ladies in here.’

  Anna stopped but didn’t look at him. ‘I don’t need help,’ she said.

  After a few moments she turned back, but he had retreated to his magazine.

  At the till, she waited in silence as he slipped her purchases into a paper bag. ‘Doing some DIY?’ he asked, his English holding only a trace of a Norwegian accent. ‘Are you local?’

  To the left of the till was a pot of screwdrivers, all different shapes and sizes. She thought how easy it would be to pull one out and stick it in his neck, in one quick, fluid motion. She let her eyes travel over the rest of the store. It was a dark and dingy place, and she was the only customer. It was old-fashioned and likely to contain no CCTV cameras. The windows that faced the street were filled with big boxed lawnmowers, bird boxes and stepladders.

  How easy it would be.

  She ran a finger over the handle of one of the screwdrivers.

  ‘You want one of them too?’ he asked.

  His voice pulled her back to the present, to the reason she was here, which was to clean up a previous unplanned attack. That was her priority, not dealing with this weaselly, sexist little man.

  She looked into his watery blue eyes and saw William. Her grip tightened for a second on the screwdriver before she forced herself to let it go. She laid her palm flat on the counter.

  ‘Nothing else, thank you.’

  The exchange of package, money and receipt took place without further conversation. The bell tinkled prettily as she left.

  Åndalsnes was very green, thought Anna as she moved through the small, unremarkable town centre. Soon enough, she found herself at the bottom of a steep path that wound up, up, up. From where she was standing, it seemed to reach to the clouds. The pathway didn’t seem particularly well-kept; tree roots blasted out of what seemed like hastily made concrete steps. But she had a while, and suddenly she found she wanted to be up there, looking down at the little people milling around, unaware of her watching them from above.

  She slung her bag over her shoulder and started to climb.

  After twenty minutes, she put a hand to her chest, felt her breath coming thin and uneven. The stone steps swam hazily in her view. She felt her head fall forward, recognised the feeling at once.

  From her bag she pulled out a breakfast roll. She hadn’t covered or wrapped it; the bread was hard and flaky. She broke off a tiny corner and shoved it in her mouth, chewing slowly as she resumed her journey.

  As she went higher, she thought about Tommy, and their chat over breakfast. He was out here somewhere, with his wife. He planned to catch some game at a sports bar he had googled.

  ‘What are Paula’s plans?’ she had asked.

  He’d shrugged as he scraped the last of the egg from his plate. ‘Shopping, I suppose,’ he replied, his mouth full.

  Oh, they were such a clichéd couple, she thought now, a small smile breaking through the grimace on her face at the toughness of the hill. She didn’t much care; she wouldn’t try to change Tommy when he was hers at the end of this holiday. She would keep him around for a while, see if there was anything that needed doing to the house, make sure he took out some decent life insurance, ensure his will was changed to name her. They might not have enough time to get married, but as long as all the paperwork was in order, that was all that mattered.

  Her thoughts turned to Mark, back in her cabin. Mentally she ticked off the steps she had taken that morning. She had wrapped him in the plastic and moved him close to the patio door, behind the two-seater sofa. The ‘do not disturb’ sign was on, and a chair had been pulled as close to the door as possible, in case Housekeeping ignored the sign and tried to get into the room.

  She nodded to herself; all was good back on the ship. There was no need to rush.

  Finally, she reached the last set of steps, and staggered up them to find herself on a platform. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to survey the view. Ahead of her was the Romsdalshornet mountain, breathtaking in its vastness. Rivers ran around it, sparkling emerald green in the sudden sunshine, the banks lush and covered with wild flowers. Beneath her was the port of Åndalsnes. She stared at the tiny figures moving around the town that she had climbed from.

  ‘Excuse me!’

  She jumped, yanked from her solitude and appreciation by a loud, American-accented voice directly behind her.

  She turned, scowling, as she came face to face with a couple she hadn’t even known were there. She looked them up and down, saw a middle-aged man and woman, red-faced and breathing heavily
, the climb evidently harder for their heavier frames than it had been for her own starved body.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked.

  The man held out a camera. ‘We wondered if you would mind taking our photo?’ he asked, as he and his wife gave her matching Hollywood smiles.

  She nodded and took the camera carefully, studying it as they made their way to the edge of the platform, fussing with each other, checking over their shoulders to ensure the mountain was in the centre of their intended shot.

  The camera was a Hasselblad; one of the most expensive pieces of equipment out there, Anna knew. She weighed it in her hands and wrapped her fingers around it. Glancing up, she imagined the finished photo, suddenly sad that she would never see the quality of it. She took a few shots, then moved in for a close-up. The couple changed position, and she lowered the camera to wait for them.

  How easy it would be to march up to them and swipe them off the platform with a simple back-handed blow. A smile twitched on her face as she looked over the edge at the rocky face that led to the river below. The camera sat heavy in her hands and she gripped it a little tighter. How wonderful it would be to leave this beautiful spot with a camera like this, a piece of equipment that even with William’s money she couldn’t afford.

  She tapped her finger thoughtfully on the lens and considered any potential problems. This couple could be sailing on the Ruby Spirit, and she wasn’t sure whether they did some sort of head count when the passengers returned from their day trips. She thought of Mark, back in the Arctic Suite. She couldn’t send him out to sea until the Ruby Spirit was in the open ocean, and she wanted him gone as soon as possible. A delay wouldn’t do.

  Reluctantly, she handed the camera back.

  ‘Thank you,’ gushed the woman. ‘Would you like us to take a picture of you?’

  Anna turned away from them. ‘No,’ she said.

  Before long, she was back at the Ruby Spirit. She hung around as the other passengers drifted back onto the boat. Nobody was checking who was boarding, and now she saw a sign that had been erected by the entrance: This boat will not wait if you are late.