Laura

by Amy Cross

  Suddenly a light switches on in the apartment.

  There's only one switch for the lamp next to the writing desk, and there's most certainly still no sign of Victoria. Yet that lamp just came to life, seemingly of its own accord.

  I wait, but now there's a knot of anticipation in my chest.

  For almost an hour, I remain completely still, simply watching the apartment. I don't know exactly what I'm expecting, and after a while I start wondering whether I should just give up and leave the hotel room. After all, I'm a busy man and this whole mess feels like a complete waste of time. And then, just as I'm seriously contemplating the possibility that I should leave, the lamp on the desk switches off again. There's still no sign of anyone, but I know damn well that the lamp can't just keep switching itself on and off like this. After all, we have no kind of timing device.

  So I wait.

  And I wait.

  And finally, after almost three hours have elapsed, the front door opens and I watch as Sophie gets back. I'd have thought she might spend longer with Toby, but even through the binoculars I can tell that she seems to be crying. Dabbing at her eyes, she heads through to the kitchen, turning on several lights as she goes. I lose sight of her for a few minutes, but finally she comes back into the front room with a cup of tea in her right hand.

  A moment later, Victoria follows, having evidently also been in the kitchen.

  All this time?

  Was Victoria standing in there, just out of sight, for three bloody hours?

  I watch as Sophie settles on the sofa. Victoria steps up behind her before stopping and staring down at the top of Sophie's head. It's almost as if Sophie hasn't noticed Victoria at all, which I suppose is more than possible. For the next few minutes, Victoria simply remains right where she is, staring and staring at Sophie, while Sophie herself seems lost in thought as she takes occasional sips from her cup of tea. Finally, after almost half an hour like this, Sophie suddenly turns and looks over her shoulder, as if she heard something in the apartment. She must be looking directly at Victoria, but a moment later she turns back to take a sip from her tea. A few seconds later she looks the other way, as if to double-check that there's nobody nearby, and then she once again returns to her tea.

  And still Victoria stands there.

  Unmoving.

  Unnoticed.

  So very, very calm.

  A shudder runs up my spine as I watch Sophie grabbing a magazine from the coffee table. She flicks through the pages for a few minutes, before setting it back down and getting to her feet. As she heads around the sofa, she seems not to notice Victoria at all, and she simply heads through to the spare room, finally pushing the door shut. Victoria, meanwhile, is still standing behind the sofa, still looking down at the spot where Sophie was sitting. There's something utterly unsettling about my wife's face right now, as if she has no emotion whatsoever. I want to look away, to set the binoculars back in my bag and head out of here, but I can't stop watching Victoria and waiting in case she makes another move.

  Suddenly my phone starts buzzing. Looking down, I see that Sophie's trying to call.

  “Hello?” I say cautiously as I answer. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sorry,” she replies, and I can tell that she's been crying, “I just got home a while back and there's no-one here. I wondered if you guys had gone out.”

  “Um...”

  I continue to watch Victoria for a moment.

  “I'll be back soon,” I continue. “Is... Is Victoria not there with you?”

  “She might be in your bedroom,” she replies. “I haven't checked.”

  “Could you do me a favor?” I ask. “Could you go out of the spare room for a moment look through to the lounge?”

  “Why?”

  “Humor me.”

  “Sure.” I hear her climbing off her bed. “How did you know I was in my room, anyway?”

  “Just a guess.”

  A moment later, still looking through the binoculars, I see Sophie peering out from the spare room.

  “Do you see anyone?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  I look over at Victoria, who has turned to look directly at Sophie.

  “Do you see anyone in the lounge area? Over by the sofa, perhaps?”

  “No. Why, should I?”

  Another shudder runs up my spine.

  “No,” I stammer, realizing that the worst of my fears have been realized. “No, of course not.”

  “I guess I shouldn't knock on the other bedroom door,” she replies. “Victoria might be taking a nap.”

  “Yes, she might be,” I mutter, watching Sophie as she heads back into the spare room and pushes the door shut.

  “Sorry,” she continues, “I didn't mean to be a nag. I think I'm just going to take a nap. Things didn't go too well with Toby.”

  “That's a shame,” I reply, turning the binoculars so I can see Victoria again. “Maybe he just needs more time. There's always -”

  Letting out a gasp, I suddenly see that not only is Victoria standing at the apartment's window, but she's staring straight at me. I lower the binoculars, but in my mind's eye I can still see her harsh, penetrating gaze.

  “Jonathan?” Sophie says cautiously. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I stammer, raising the binoculars again. Sure enough, Victoria is still watching me, so I quickly put the binoculars back in my bag and head toward the hotel room's door. “I'll be home in a while,” I continue, trying to not sound too panicked. “Just... Just stay in your room, okay? And don't -”

  Before I can finish, I hear a brief knock on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a door opening.

  “Hey Victoria,” Sophie says casually. “I was wondering whether you were home. Maybe -”

  Suddenly there's a burst of static, and the line goes dead.

  “Sophie?” I call out, stopping in the hotel's corridor and trying to call her back, only to find that her phone suddenly seems to be switched off. “Sophie!”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Six months ago

  “Leave?” she replies, tilting her head a little. “What are you talking about? You can't leave.”

  I open my mouth to tell her that it's true, but I can't quite get the words out. My throat feels so very dry, and I'm starting to think that I should have done this over the phone, or by email, or perhaps I should have left a note. Still, there's no going back now, and I suppose one day I'll reflect upon this moment and realize that I did the right thing.

  The honorable thing.

  “You can't leave!” she says again. “Stop this nonsense at once. We're going out to dinner tomorrow night with the Fugelmans.”

  “You can go,” I manage to reply. “Tell them whatever you want.”

  I wait a moment, trying to think of something else I can say that might make her understand that I really, truly mean this. She looks so stunned, and at the same time she's still holding that bloody leg of lamb that she's been planning to defrost.

  “Victoria, come on,” I continue finally, “you can't tell me this is a complete surprise. I mean, the last few months have been hellish. Haven't they? It's not just me, is it? They must have been hell for you too.”

  “It's Friday night,” she replies. “You can't leave me on a Friday night.”

  “I don't think there's any rule about -”

  “People don't leave on Fridays,” she adds, and for the first time in years I detect an actual trace of irritation in her voice. A hint of genuine emotion. “People leave on Sundays or Mondays, once the weekend is over. They never leave at the start of the weekend. It's just not... It's a ridiculous idea. You can leave on Sunday at the earliest. We have our weekend's social arrangements all laid out and these things can't be canceled on the spur of the moment. There's no -”

  “Put the leg of lamb down, Victoria.”

  “There's no time for us to separate before the weekend is over,” she continues. “We can discuss this on Sunday even
ing and set out a proper timetable. There are letterheads to alter, invitations to deal with, and so many other -”

  “Can you please put that leg of lamb down?” I ask, interrupting her again. “I can't have a serious discussion with you while you're standing there in a black gown, holding a leg of lamb! For God's sake, woman, you look ridiculous!”

  “We need three months, at least. That would be an acceptable lead time for -”

  “You're not listening to me!” Reaching down, I pick up my suitcase. Honor be damned, I need to get some distance between us. Frankly, I'm starting to think that Victoria might be just a little dangerous. “You can do what you want, and tell people what you want, but I've already booked a room at the Merchant. I'll stay there for a while until I can find a place of my own and -”

  “No.”

  “Victoria -”

  “I've already told you!” she hisses. “I'm not agreeing to this!”

  “There's nothing to agree to!”

  “I insist that you obey the basic rules of -”

  “It's dripping!” I point out.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The lamb, Victoria. It's dripping all over the bloody floor.”

  She looks down at the leg, which has been slowly dripping while she's been arguing with me. Her hands are glistening, and some of the water has even dribbled all the way down to the floor.

  “This is for the best,” I continue. “We've been miserable for the past few years and -”

  “Is it because of Laura?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but the mere mention of that name causes the words to catch in my throat. We've always avoided mentioning Laura, so it's a surprise for her to be brought up now.

  “It's nothing to do with Laura,” I tell her. “Why would you even suggest that? Jesus Christ, Victoria, you don't half dredge up the past sometimes. This is because of you and me, and our passionless, sexless excuse for a -”

  “We need to talk about this.”

  “Not now, okay?” I tell her with a sigh. “I really want to get out of here, check in at the Merchant, and clear my head. I've spent long enough cooped up in this airtight apartment.”

  I start carrying my suitcase toward the hallway. Please God, let me just get out of here without Victoria causing another scene.

  “And for God's sake,” I add, “put that leg of lamb down. It's not like you'd even know how to cook it, anyway.”

  “Wait!”

  I hear her hurrying to one of the other rooms, but I don't bother to look and see where she's gone. Each and every step I take toward the front door feels so heavy, and at the same time my heart is pounding with expectation as I realize that perhaps finally – after longing for release over the past few years – I'm going to end my miserable, lifeless marriage. A new life is waiting for me on the other side of that door. All I have to do is get out of here and put some space between Victoria and myself, and then she won't be my problem anymore.

  Still, I don't dare to believe that I'm getting out of here until finally I manage to grab the door handle. I feel a little dizzy and light-headed as I turn the handle and pull the door open.

  And then suddenly I hear a horrific, agonized cry from the bathroom.

  I flinch, telling myself that Victoria is simply having one of her angry spells, but a moment later she cries out again. Turning, I look over my shoulder as I hear a series of heavy bumps. It sounds as if Victoria is having some kind of meltdown in there, and for several seconds I remain completely still, listening as she cries out. Finally there's the sound of glass breaking, and I realize that I can't in all good conscience just walk out and leave her like this. I'm not a monster.

  “Victoria?” I stammer, trying to stay calm. “You'll be alright. There's no need to lose hope. You have plenty of friends and -”

  Before I can finish, she lets out another, even more agonized scream.

  Fearing that the neighbors might hear, I slam the front door shut and drop my suitcase, and then I listen for a moment longer to the sound of my wife seemingly slamming her body against the bathroom wall.

  “Victoria!” I say firmly, still not daring to go and check on her. “You must pull yourself together, woman! This isn't the end of the world! It's a moment of freedom for both of us!”

  I want to leave.

  Please God, just let me leave.

  “Leave me alone!” Victoria gasps suddenly, her voice filled with fear. “Don't touch me!”

  “I'm not going to touch you,” I reply with a sigh. She's simply being very theatrical, as usual. “Victoria, I just -”

  “I didn't do anything to you, Laura!” she sobs, sounding now as if she's breaking down completely. “It was them! It was the others! I didn't hurt you! I didn't even agree!”

  “Laura?” I whisper. “What the...”

  “I didn't do anything!” Victoria whimpers. “Oh God, please, stop looking at me like that! Please, I'll do anything, but you can't blame me! You just can't! Blame them! They're the ones who threw you out! They're the ones who laughed at you! They're the ones who didn't come to help you that night! Not me! Please, they're the ones who...”

  Her voice trails off, and now I can hear her sobbing desperately.

  “Victoria, what are you talking about?” I ask, trying to stay calm. “This is utter nonsense! You must calm down at once!”

  I wait, but she seems to have descended into utter hysterics. I knew she'd probably make a scene, although so far it sounds as if she's utterly trashed the bathroom.

  “Come on, old thing,” I continue, taking a few cautious steps toward the door. “There's really no point making a scene, is there? This is for the best. Once you're past the shock of it, you'll be happier without me. I'm sure you must admit, when you really think about it, that things haven't been right between us for quite some time. I'm just -”

  Stopping suddenly, I see that there's a trickle of blood running between the tiles on the bathroom floor.

  “Victoria?”

  I hurry to the doorway, and then I gasp as I see that she's sitting crumpled on the floor, with her back against the cabinet. The mirror has been shattered, and Victoria is holding a large chunk of glass in her right hand, pressing it against her left wrist. Already, blood is running from cuts on her hands and arms. The leg of lamb is resting next to the sink.

  “What are you doing, Victoria?” I stammer, taking another step forward but not quite daring to get too close. “Please...”

  “She was here!” she blurts out, as tears stream down her face. “I saw Laura!”

  “Laura? No, Victoria, that's quite impossible.”

  “I saw her!” she hisses. “Why won't you believe me? She was right there, where you're standing now!”

  “She can't have been,” I reply, watching as the glass presses against the flesh of her wrist. “Victoria, you have to see sense. For one thing, Laura is long gone. For another, I was by the front door the whole time, and I can assure you that there was nobody else here in the apartment. It was just the pair of us!”

  “You're wrong!” she gasps. “You're all wrong! She was here and she wants...”

  Her voice trails off.

  “She wants us,” she continues finally, as tears stream down her face. “She's back, Jonathan. She told me she came back for us!”

  “I've never seen you like this,” I tell her, stepping around the patch of blood on the floor. “Have you cut your hand? Listen, this is no way to -”

  “She wants all of us!” she gurgles, squeezing her hand tighter around the glass and causing fresh blood to run down onto her wrist and then drip to the tiled floor. “You! Me! Sophie! Elliot! Nick and Lynn! All of us!”

  “You're obviously suffering from some form of psychiatric break,” I continue, reaching out toward her. “Victoria, let me help you. Let me -”

  “Stay back!”

  She flashes the piece of glass, trying to cut my hand, but I manage to pull back just in time. I think she might actually have lost her m
ind.

  “You don't understand!” she hisses, wiping the tears from her cheeks and – in the process – smearing blood across her face. “You won't understand, none of you will, not until she comes to you! I'm the first, that's all! After me, she'll take the rest of you! One by one!”

  Breaking down into a fresh wave of sobs, Victoria lets her head drop slightly. She's still holding the shard of glass, still squeezing it tight and forcing more blood to run down her arm, and quite honestly she looks frightful.

  “Maybe I should stay,” I stammer, figuring that I just have to calm her down so I can call for help. I always knew my wife was rather highly-strung, but now it's plain that she needs to be institutionalized. “Why don't we get you cleaned up? Then we can think about what to do next. You have so much to live for, Victoria. You have a whole life ahead of you and -”

  Before I can finish, I realize that she seems to be laughing. A moment later, she looks up at me and I see a grin on her bloodied face.

  “Oh Jonathan,” she whimpers, “you don't get it, but that's okay. You will, right at the end. I'm just the first, Jonathan. And now she's done with me, the rest of you are going to be next. Laura's coming for you!”

  “Victoria -”

  Suddenly she moves the piece of glass up and digs it into the side of her neck. I lunge forward to stop her, but I slip in the blood and crash down against the floor, unable to reach her in time as she drags the glass straight across her throat. A vast amount of blood sprays from the wound, arcing high over my shoulder and splattering against the wall.

  “No!” I stammer.

  But it's too late.

  I know that already.

  Victoria keeps her eyes fixed on me as the spray starts to weaken, and now blood is cascading down her neck and onto her chest. Finally she tilts her head back slightly, lets out one final gasp, and falls still.

  Too horrified to move, I simply stay on my hands and knees, staring at the sight of her dead body. Her glassy eyes are staring up toward the ceiling now, but the blood has for the most part stopped flowing. A moment later, her arm drops down against the floor and the jagged piece of glass falls from her lifeless hand.