The Watcher

by Ross Armstrong

  I remember my keys are in his eye. I’ve no time to be tentative. I bend down and pull it out. It makes the sound of a kiss. I wipe them down as I hurry out of there.

  Outside, the day has begun. The early starters get on collapsible bikes or head towards the Tube. I pass the workmen heading to Alaska House. Setting up for another demolition. I walk past the signs again. The road is blocked off. I’m reminded that today is the big one. September the twenty-ninth. The biggest demolition of them all.

  I sprint into my building and back up my corridor. I try Lowell’s door and it’s open. Inside, you are sat up and leaning against the bed. But I pass you. Time is still of the essence. I head towards where I saw the suitcase.

  The case. The case isn’t there. Nor is the fluid or residue that dripped from it. It’s impossible.

  ‘Dad? Dad? Where is the case?’ I say, imploringly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The case, Dad. The suitcase. Did someone come and take it?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ you mutter.

  It’s nowhere to be seen. Someone must have taken it while you were out.

  ‘I tried to call the police,’ you say, stirring. ‘But the lines are down.’

  I should stop and check how you are. I want to do that. I lean down to you and check your head wound.

  Then it all starts up.

  Rumble. Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

  I stand. It’s obvious now. Where to put a body to make sure it won’t be found. To make sure it’s hidden among a ton of debris. In a suitcase. And taken away on a skip and put in landfill. Like a forgotten family heirloom from a forgotten family. Like a crucifix. They’re stoking up the machines. Soon the demolition will begin.

  I give you my mobile phone.

  ‘Dad. Dad! If you get out onto the balcony you should just get enough signal to call the police. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes. Go. Find it. Go.’

  ‘Call the police. Tell them what happened. Tell them to come to the building site right away.’

  I push the phone into your hand and run towards Alaska House.

  29 September. 7.35 a.m. Sunrise.

  I run fast past the slow-moving commuters. I’m the only one in a hurry this morning. I look at the estate as I go, turning everything over in my mind.

  I like it here. The whole of life is here. I’d hate to have to move away. But I doubt myself and Lowell would make great neighbours if somehow he gets away with this thing. Which is looking more likely. Because I don’t know for sure I’m right about this. About where the suitcase is. Not for sure.

  The thought crosses my mind that I could bolt now. I know it’s usually the guilty that run but I think for a moment I could come with you. Go to France and start again. Skip all this. The ramifications. The repercussions and what not. I could call off the search now and make a run for it while I still can. I’ve enough cash for a last-minute ticket to Calais. I could wait for you there. You could help me start a new life.

  But no. I like it here. I like the trees. I like the types of people. Despite their taciturn nature. Despite the fact they’re always looking at their phones. Despite the queue for the escalator. I like the variation of every day. I love this city. The big city I always dreamed of coming to when I was a kid. London breathes with people and I don’t want to be pushed out of it.

  Getting out of this city would be death for me anyway, so I may as well stay and fight.

  Rumble. Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

  Then I see the site. The wrecking ball gearing up to start the day.

  I slow down, looking for my entry point. This is a bigger site than usual. And there are more workers around than normal. But sometimes overstaffing can mean carelessness. Can mean ‘someone else will deal with it’. Can mean gaps to exploit. And it’s not like they’re expecting a madwoman to run into a building that’s about to be demolished anyway.

  I stop and watch. Picking my man. I see a figure, no more than a boy, laconically carrying some cones on the west side of the building.

  The rumble and crunch is about to become more defined. The ball will soon tear into brick. Instinctively, I become poised. My body ripples with excitement. I’m about to do it and no one can stop me. A feeling comes over me like when animals sense a storm. Danger is near and I’m about to run straight into it.

  Rumble. Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

  I see a gap where a metal slat has been pulled open on the ground floor.

  I watch. Everything that happened in there is about to be destroyed. The wallpaper. Memories of people who once lived there. I want to see it all come down. I want to bathe in the water and dust as it blows into my face. I want that now. I want it all. So I’m going to step inside.

  Rumble. Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

  I see the wrecking ball roaming around, readying itself to hit. But it can’t start till 8 a.m. That’s the law. That gives me time. I see the boy carrying the cones drop a few and bend down to pick them up. I make a dash for it. I pass him, not too far behind him, but the noise of shouting and chaos masks my route and I make it to the opening on the ground floor and swiftly hoist myself inside.

  I search the bottom floor. Using my key light. It looks like they’ve started work on the insides this morning, knocking down the inner walls for easier demolition. I scramble through the debris and check the corners of this open-plan floor and see nothing. I head towards the stairs and the second floor as the rumble of the machines gets louder outside.

  I stumble to the second. I haven’t had much sleep. I drive my body on. There isn’t much time. They don’t know I’m in here. Every step I take means I have to take another back. At the end of the corridor on the first floor I see a figure.

  He comes to greet me. This place should’ve been evacuated. It’s Aiden. I turn and head up to the third floor. He sprints up the stairs after me.

  ‘Darling, come on. What are you doing, let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Shut up,’ I say. I dreamed him into existence. But I want him to go away for good now.

  ‘Please. Come on. Let’s go back home and get back to normal. You can have the day off. I’ll make you breakfast. Then you need to sleep,’ he says.

  ‘No, go away, Aiden. Please.’

  I reach the third floor, nothing. I go towards the fourth. The shouts outside rise. The machines strike up in earnest. It’s deafening being this close. Being so close to everything, to demolition. To extinction. The fourth floor has nothing. Aiden still follows.

  ‘Vot is zee matter, darleeng? Are you tired, Lil, girl? Come on home,’ he says, mocking me.

  ‘You aren’t real. You arsehole.’ Now I am crying. The tears come. ‘You aren’t real. So… so, fuck off!’

  ‘Baby. Lily. My Lily. Vot is da meaning of this?’ he says. A pleading look on his face. He seems so fragile.

  I grab him by the shirt and pull him towards me. ‘I’m sorry. But I’ve told you. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want that. But that’s the way it has to be. You have to leave. You have to. Now!’

  I push him hard and he falls over the rail and down into the ground below. Tears fill my eyes as I reach the fifth floor and see something in the corner against the wall. I dash towards it.

  It must be close to 8 a.m.

  Rumble. Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

  I get close to it. It’s the suitcase. I try to pick it up. I have to get it downstairs. There’s no time. It’s so heavy. I drag it away.

  The noise is deafening. It rises and rises. And when I think it can get no louder, it somehow does. I reach for the zip again.

  Rumble. Rumble. Rumble. Crunch.

  The wrecking ball hits. A couple of floors above me I’d guess. I fall. I drag the suitcase towards me. Even if it’s all for nothing. Even if I don’t make it out of here I have to know. I want to see the flesh.

  The zip is stuck. The case is full of something. I pull hard. The wrecking ball is about to hit again.

  Crash. It does. Throwing me to the ground. It’s g
etting closer.

  I grab the case and pull the zip. Out she comes. A purpled body. Or what’s left of it. Bloated. From rigor mortis and everything that happens after the heart stops beating. She only vaguely looks like herself because of what’s called Casper’s law. I read about it once. Lowell must have got her into that freezer quickly. So the air didn’t get to her too much after death.

  I push her back in the case and drag her towards the stairs.

  Crash. Concrete falls just next to me. Narrowly missing us. Sonya and I.

  I’m not going to make it downstairs, so I’m heading up. Dragging her slowly upwards as the wrecking ball hits again. Bang!

  I want to call Dad and tell them to stop everything, but I’ve given him my phone. I want them to stop of their own accord, but I don’t think they know I’m in here. I want to shout out of a window but they’re all boarded up. I’ve got to tell them somehow.

  On the sixth floor, I drag the case to the middle of the room and find a pole. I grab it and ram it against a metal slat. But it doesn’t give. Somewhere outside the wrecking ball is winding up for another hit. And this is the one that might be the end of me. I take a run up and smash the pole into the metal slat. It gives just a touch. Just enough.

  I wrench it away from the wall and push my head out of it.

  ‘Stop! I’m in here! Stop!’ I shout. But I’m so far up, I don’t think they’ll hear. I see the machines below and then hear them shout too. In the distance.

  ‘Stop! Stop!’ they echo. I think they hear me. I peer out again. I can see people running onto the site. But the man in the wrecking ball, doesn’t seem to see them, it’s coming towards me. Right towards me. I grab the case and drag it to the back of the room as the wall gives way.

  Bang! It’s a brutal hit. My ears ring and sting with a high-pitched noise and the next thing I expect to feel is the fast fall to the ground where my bones will break. At least the case will be found. At least his fingerprints will be all over it. At least Dad can call it in and they’ll know. I have the body. Lowell’s marks all over it. Even though I am about to die, I’ve made sure that Jean and Sonya’s killer is found. That they won’t be simply lost. That justice will be done.

  I open my eyes and see the thick cloud of brick dust part. The next thing I see is the blue sky and the whole estate before me. The floor before me is all but destroyed. But on a tiny ledge at the back of what was once a living room, I lie, holding a suitcase, with a body half sticking out of it. For the whole world to see.

  I glimpse the skyline. The city far off on the horizon. But below that and far closer the workers are shouting at me. Saying they’ll find a way up. Telling me to stay there.

  The sky ahead is so, so blue. It’s beautiful.

  As I look to the dots below, I see police cars arrive. I seem to have drawn quite a crowd. I see the faces from the neighbourhood. The ones I know and love. They’ve finally all come out to play.

  The world seems to spin in front of me as I lean against the wall behind me. As my eyes close, I think how nice it is to feel a bit of community again.

  I hold on tight, as the dust and wind blows past.

  I see a flock of swifts in a distant crescent silhouetted against the sky.

  It’s been such a strange few weeks.

  Hasn’t it?

  Part Eleven:

  The Life List

  1 December.

  Calidris alba, Chordata – Sanderling (a small plump sandpiper) – Bright, fresh and cold, 6 deg – Singular – White with dark shoulder patch – 18 cm – Lonelyish, far from the coast, wandering.

  I rub my hands together. The winter chill breezes fiercely across the platform as I step off the train and head for home. I’ve felt quite alone since it all happened. I suppose that was to be expected. I lost my husband. My best neighbour too. Though ‘best’ is a debatable label, I realise.

  I’m not so alone though. Terrence is here. I didn’t know if they’d let a dog on a train, but they did. I realise I should’ve checked this before leaving. But here we are. I still don’t know much about dog etiquette, but I’m learning. I’ll get there in the end.

  I took him for a groom for the first time the other day. He feels nice to the touch. You’d like him. He looks very lovely. Very neat. I’ve even got a walker for him for when I’m at work.

  I got that new job. Same shit. Different office, of course. But there’s more money. A far more dynamic atmosphere. Well, slightly more dynamic atmosphere. Well, they have a ping-pong table. But I like it there. I needed a new start.

  I’ve taken up jogging. It’s very impressive. I see them all out there. David Kentley, Mr Smith, Cary. We’re on nodding terms. In fact I’ve had coffee with a couple of them at the park. I’m quite active in the building now, you see. I’m the building rep. That’s right. I’ve taken Lowell’s old job. It’s a bit of a bloody coup, of course. But what did he expect? It’s a tough job to do from prison. And I’ve started a Neighbourhood Watch. Seriously. We’re a fantastic community now. Well, we’re a much better community. Well, some of us know each other’s names. But that’s a start.

  This journal serves another purpose too. It’s a thanks, to you. For everything. For putting up with all my illusions. For so long. For coming back for me. For redeeming me. At last.

  I’m not going to get teary. I promised me I wouldn’t. That’s not what this journal’s for, in the main. It’s to address things clearly. To keep a record of where I’m at. How I’m doing. It’s a good thing. And I’m going to keep it up. But it’s not for wallowing in sadness. But, I wish you were here. I really do. It was so good to see you. To get everything straight. I wish you were still here.

  But you’ve gone to a better place. A much better place. Southern Brittany. Sorry, I realise now I made it sound a bit like you’d died. Which you didn’t, of course. But then, you know that. Obviously.

  I bet it’s at least a bit warmer over there, it’s brass monkeys here, freezing. I thought I might come over in February, it’s always the crappiest month in London. The coldest and dreariest. But I thought there might be something to interest me where you are. A few spots of sunlight for a little bird to sit in. If the offer’s still open, that is. Someone even wants to come with me. But we’ll see.

  That building is completely down. Alaska House. There’s nothing left of it at all. Not even a brick. It’s disappeared. Not even its ghosts remain. Then they broke ground on its replacement: ‘Aqua View’. It’s going to have a sauna and steam room. They had a sales party in my building. People came to look around. Eighty per cent of it was sold in twenty-four hours. Imagine that? They’re going like hot cakes. This place is big business.

  Meanwhile the others still wait on in their homes. I never see them. But I know they’re there. On the rare occasion I do see them, the ones I met – Chris, Sandra, Thompson – we don’t say much to each other. We just nod sagely. A silent understanding from those who knew. Who helped me in some way.

  The others are more forthcoming. The ones I didn’t know before. The middle-class types of the newbuilds. They’ve read about me in the paper. Like I did, with Jean, I suppose.

  So I smile and nod to them. Answer questions if they chance to ask anything. Things to do with the ‘evil look in his eye’. They ask if I ‘could tell straight away’. Did I get a funny chill whenever he walked past me in the corridor? And I say no. He seemed very nice actually. Very ordinary. He was just like you or me.

  It’s strange, you’d think it might be bad publicity, but people are pretty hardy round here. And most of them wouldn’t chance moving while the property prices are going up. I think they thought I’d move somewhere, but I’m not going to. I like it here. I’m more determined than ever to see how it all takes shape.

  I got some compassionate leave after it all happened. Thought I’d go on holiday, but in the end I stayed here. I re-watched all the Hitchcock films. Every one. I know that doesn’t sound like the healthiest thing to do, but I’m going to finish my book on H
itch. So I thought I’d brush up. At least it keeps my eyes from straying towards my binoculars. For now.

  I’m introducing them to a friend. Poor guy. He hadn’t seen any of them. Can you believe that? I’m really opening his eyes. He loves them. On the first night he came over, we watched a double bill of Vertigo and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. The latter one was his choice, obviously.

  You remember Phil, right? We’ve been kind of seeing each other. He’s a great guy. Well, he’s an all right guy. No. He is. He’s great. He’s been so good to me. He’s been there since it all happened. He likes me a lot, Dad. But we’re taking it slow. I think I need to. I think that’s definitely for the best.

  He drives me to see Helen. I don’t know why. I could get the Tube. But he says he wants to keep me safe. And it’s to show he’ll always be there, before I go in and when I come out. In a good way, not like a stalker or anything. Although I had thought about that possibility from time to time, before I got things clear in my mind. Before I saw him for real. The way he really is.

  I’ve been going to see Helen every week. To make sure I see everything the way it is. I think I’m the best I’ve ever been. Physically and mentally. She agrees. No illusions. Nothing. And some closure. I’m putting a few things right. Which is partly why I’ve just been where I’ve just been. To see Mum. I’m not angry at her now. For letting go. The pills, the locked bathroom door, the hot bath. I forgive her it all. I put some flowers down for her and said my peace. It felt so nice to accept it all. Properly. For the first time.

  The one thing I haven’t got closure on is the possibility of an accomplice. The other set of footsteps in the dark. The one who must’ve moved the suitcase to the building before it was destroyed.

  He still could be about. I don’t know. Perhaps he made a run for it. I don’t know.

  If you ask me, though, I still think it was Brenner. Of course I do. But the police officer – Detective Andrews, the brown-suited bookkeeper, who was so apologetic about everything that happened, who apologised for a possible lack of professionalism at the station early on in the case – he couldn’t find any other set of prints on the body or the case. Or anywhere. So, despite my protestations, that was that.