The Glass Tower

by Gregg Dunnett

  But then she got a break. The sort of break that she had been dreaming might happen, but perhaps never really believed would come along so easily.

  "I'll leave the sandwiches in the fridge," Rob said while he was wiping down the other tables. Julia had just heard them arranging to eat a picnic later on. "You pick them up when you come out to find me."

  Julia’s mind reeled ahead of her, while she listened to the exchange.

  A half hour later she listened at the door of her rented bedroom. She had just watched at the window and seen the other guests at the lodge leaving – one elderly couple in their walking boots and shorts, him with a knapsack on his back, her with a pair of hiking poles. They had stepped gingerly onto the path that led around the circumference of the island. The other couple, slightly younger, had gone off in a car. And then Rob had gone, too. Him with a larger backpack, that she supposed contained the camera equipment he had mentioned. Julia hadn't seen Becky leave, but she understood her to be up in the top of the old lighthouse, trying to work on her novel.

  She eased open the door. The corridor was empty.

  Still in her cumbersome burka, Julia stepped as quietly as she could along the passageway and down the stairs which led into the dining room. At the bottom was a fire door with a small window set into it. Julia risked a look through the window before backing away. The room looked empty. Julia pushed the door half open. She listened.

  All she could hear was the sound of blood pumping through her head. It was one of the problems with the damn burka – it deadened her hearing, along with completely cutting off her peripheral vision. She lifted the veil to have a better look around. The dining room was empty, the breakfast materials cleaned away. Julia passed the table she had sat at not half an hour before, while she watched Rob in the kitchen – the door left open – as he made sandwiches. Now the kitchen door was shut. If they had locked it, then her plan wouldn't work. Quickly, Julia crossed the room and put a gloved hand on the handle. The door opened.

  This was the most dangerous part of her plan. While she was in the public areas of the lodge – as a paying guest – no one would question what she was doing, but if she was discovered in here, even dressed in her disguise, she would certainly be challenged. And if she was successful then it would certainly be remembered... She froze, a thought coming to her. Was there any CCTV?

  It wasn't something she had considered, and she glanced quickly around the dining room. There was something fixed to the wall by the main entrance – a white plastic device with a red light – but she reassured herself it was just a sensor that turned on the light automatically. With one last check around her, Julia pulled open the kitchen door, walked inside, and then shut the door behind her.

  The little kitchen area was built from the original lighthouse keeper's building, and it was cooler in here. The fridge buzzed on the far wall. The window looked out on the car park, the little courtyard of land between the lodge and the lighthouse itself. Its broad base was in clear view, and just behind it the dappled blueness of the ocean. Should either Rob or Becky come back, they would see her at once. She had to act fast.

  Julia opened the fridge and quickly scanned the contents. It was less obvious than she had imagined, but after a moment she noticed a silver foil packet. She poked a gloved finger inside and lifted a corner. Inside was the tell-tale bread of a sandwich. Julia pulled the packet out and lay it on the work top. She unfolded the packet properly now, then she lifted the top layer of bread, so that the contents of the sandwiches were revealed. She took a deep breath. Then she dug under the folds of her burka until she reached her pocket. She pulled out a packet similar to the one she had seen Kevin buying in Tesco the previous week. In fact it was the exact same brand. When she had returned to buy it, she felt so nervous that somehow she was being watched, perhaps by the sprinkler system, that she hadn't stopped to choose very carefully, simply buying the first rat poison she saw. Now she nervously tried to unpick the packet, her gloves hampering her.

  After a few moments she looked around, trying to find a pair of scissors or something that could pierce the packaging. She pulled open a couple of drawers at random, then finally found a knife. But when she tried to cut into the packet she nearly dropped it. A drop of sweat ran from her forehead into her eye.

  She forced herself to calm down. She checked out of the window. There was no one in sight. There was no sound in the lodge. She was alone. She turned again to the packet of rat poison. Probably it was carefully sealed, she thought, to stop children from getting it. She had checked whether it was manufactured from some clever chemical that was only harmful to rodents and would leave humans untouched. But she was swiftly reassured that wasn't the case. As the warnings on the packet made clear, if even a small amount were accidentally swallowed by humans or pets immediate medical assistance should be sought, and it could prove fatal.

  Finally she got the point of the knife into the plastic packaging and snagged it open. But then there was a new problem. She had assumed she was purchasing a powder, that she could then sprinkle onto the sandwiches, re-cover them, and get away from the danger. However, in her haste to buy the poison, she had accidentally bought a solid blue block – the type which fitted directly in a particular brand of rat traps.

  "Shit," Julia swore as she realised her mistake. She tried to rub the corner over the first open sandwich, in the hope it would crumble into a powder, but it did nothing, except perhaps stain her glove. She made a mental note that they would have to be destroyed, and carefully so she didn’t inadvertently poison herself. She looked back at the sandwiches in despair. How the hell was she going to get the poison into them? For a moment she was stumped.

  "Fuck," Julia swore again at her uncooperative block of poison. But then she had an idea. To make the sandwiches – cheese and tomato – Rob had clearly used a cheese grater, since it was still sitting there, on the drying rack by the sink. Julia grabbed it and – her hands shaking quite violently now – she began trying to grate the block of poison onto the layer of cheese. A few small, blue flakes floated down like snow and settled on the cheese, but then the material from her glove caught in the blades and the poison block was knocked from her hands.

  "Oh, for goodness sake!" Julia said, and she dropped to the floor to find it. But as she did so, her left walking boot made contact with the poison block, and sent it scooting across the floor and under the fridge. Julia blinked in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening.

  Bunching the burka around her waist she knelt down now to reclaim it, but the gap it had disappeared under was too small for her to reach with her hand. She could just wiggle a finger under it. She put her face to the cold floor for a better view and there it was, sitting just out of reach.

  She stood up, searching for a stick or some kind of implement with which to fish it out. There was nothing on the worktop, so she began pulling open drawers to find cutlery. The first she tried was used to store tea towels, which she swore at, loudly. The second drawer was under the window. And as she pulled it open she saw the doorway of the lighthouse open too.

  Forty-One

  Forty metres above Julia, Becky gave up for the day. As wonderful a writing retreat as the lantern room was, it didn't tell her what to write, and on days when the sun was bright it also quickly became both hot and rather bright to concentrate on the screen. And although she had done little but reorder parts of the story that were already just about finished, she was still able to count it as something. Making a decision, she dropped the laptop lid closed and bundled it together with her notebook. She threw both into her bag, and then opened the door and began to descend around the curving inside of the old lighthouse tower. The building was mostly hollow inside, and her footsteps echoed as she descended the stone steps, keeping a tight grip on the iron railing that protected her from the drop. But she was used to climbing up and down inside the lighthouse now and her mind was on other things. It was such a nice day. It would be lovely to see a bit more of the islan
d. And as Rob said, she had been pushing herself hard since arriving here. Maybe it was actually a break that she needed?

  She pushed open the door of the lighthouse and stepped out onto the little grassy area that connected the lodge with the great tower.

  As she moved forward she stepped out of the shadow of the lighthouse and the sun hit her back, instantly warming it. She slowed, enjoying the feeling. She looked up at the lodge. In front of her was the window of the little kitchen. The sun glinted off the glass, and for a moment something caught her eye, but her mind dismissed it. It couldn't be movement because Rob was already out. She had watched him go from the top of the tower. She smiled. It seemed strange that they had been scared about running the place. In reality it was easy, and it showed just how well suited she and Rob were, that they could live together and work together so easily.

  From nowhere she remembered the story of the lighthouse keeper who had gone mad those decades before, and thrown his wife from the top of the tower. She smiled at Ted’s version of the story, which was different to the record in the Dorchester museum. Strange how different versions of stories could coexist, she thought. Then she smiled. Whichever was true, at least there was no chance of Rob throwing her from the tower!

  Shaking her head Becky crossed the courtyard and pushed open the door to the lodge.

  Forty-Two

  There was nowhere in the kitchen to hide, and no time to put the kitchen back in order first, even if there had been. Julia simply dropped out of sight below the window and waited, panicking. Then her panic doubled as she heard the door to the lodge itself open, and Becky – whistling – come inside. Julia had to move then, and she half-crawled, half-shuffled until she was behind the door. From there she surveyed the mess she had made in the kitchen with a kind of disbelieving despair. In a few moments Becky was going to walk in and see it. What would she think? Julia realised she was holding a knife, a large serrated-blade kitchen knife that she had taken from the drawer to reach the poison block from under the fridge, and her hand tightened on the handle. It wasn’t what she planned, but it would do. When Becky came in she would first look at the mess on the worktop, and with Julia behind the door she could then leap out on her and use the knife. She tried to visualise it. But her hand was shaking so much she wasn’t sure if she would be able to do it.

  Becky's footsteps came to the door of the kitchen and Julia drew herself up still and ready. But then the girl walked straight past the doorway and even out of the dining room itself. Julia didn't know where. But it didn't take her long to realise she had an opportunity. Working fast now she dropped to the floor again, ripping her veil out of the way a second time. She fished quickly under the fridge, and with the knife it was the work of seconds to lever the poison block out from underneath.

  She grabbed the grater and once again began sending a blue dusting of poisoned snow on top of the sandwiches. Julia had no idea how much she needed to put on, but even though she was now desperate to get out of the kitchen she wasn't prepared to err on the side of caution. There was no question that this was a signal or a threat. Julia wanted them as dead as possible, and as quickly as possible. She continued until there wasn't enough left of the poison block to grate any more, and then she forced herself to calm down enough to rewrap the sandwiches neatly. They wouldn’t need to eat them all. Just a bite should do it.

  Julia put them back in the fridge and quickly surveyed the rest of the mess. She remembered the tea towel drawer and she grabbed one, and wiped the dust of grated rat poison from where it was sprinkled on the work top. She balled the tea towel up and threw it into the rubbish bin. Then she did the same with the cheese grater, but it rattled and banged as it fell to the bottom. The noise rang out around the kitchen. Julia froze again.

  Forty-Three

  As Becky flushed the toilet she heard a noise. She paused for a moment then called out.

  "Rob?"

  There was no answer, so she walked out of their room and back into the dining room. There she got the shock of her life. Because standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking like some kind of evil ghost, was the lady from room 3. The lady, too, jumped in shock.

  Becky put her hand to her chest, and only just managed to prevent herself from screaming out.

  "Oh!" she said. "You made me jump!" She tried to smile at the lady, but wasn't sure where to look.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here," Becky said, but the lady seemed frozen in terror.

  "Are you okay?" Becky went on. In response the lady said nothing, but tried to slide past Becky in the direction of the stairs. Then she mumbled something – Becky wasn't sure what.

  There was very little she could do. She watched the poor Muslim lady walk unsteadily across the room and then pull open the door to the stairs.

  "Have a nice day," Becky called as the lady moved out of sight. Then she laughed quietly to herself and walked into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and pulled out the silver foil packet of sandwiches that Rob had made earlier. She slipped it into her bag and added a couple of apples. Then she closed the fridge and walked out of the kitchen. She shook her head at the thought of what a scare she had just had.

  Forty-Four

  From her position concealed behind the curtains in her room Julia watched Becky leave, in the direction that Rob had gone earlier. Then she struggled out of her ridiculous Muslim outfit and bundled it into her backpack, leaving the walking clothes she had on underneath in place. She left on her gloves though, conscious not to leave any fingerprints at this late stage.

  The room was paid for in advance. That had been difficult, since the booking had to be made on a website, but she had got round the problem by posting cash to the charity directly. Now she took her room key with her when she went downstairs. Out of her disguise she simply prayed that she wouldn't see anyone as she left, but the lodge was empty. Julia left the key on the little reception area, then, needing to be sure, she quickly stepped into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The sandwiches were gone.

  Julia stared at the empty space where they had been for a long time. That empty space meant more to her than she could process at that moment.

  Then she closed the fridge, took her bag and walked out of the lodge. She left on foot, in the opposite direction to the way that Becky had walked.

  Julia had arrived, in her full Muslim disguise, by taxi. She was under no illusions that this would have gone unremembered by the driver, but then she clearly couldn't have taken her own car. Becky herself had seen it when Julia had visited her, and who knew what CCTV cameras would record its number plate? Walking was the next obvious option, since the island attracted a steady stream of hikers, but Julia thought that combining her ultra-devout Muslim with a long distance hiker might be a stretch too far.

  It was, however, her plan for escaping. Now without her disguise, she looked entirely unremarkable as just another middle-aged outdoor enthusiast, with her hiking trousers, boots and backpack. And as she followed the coastal path north towards the causeway, she passed several women who could have been carbon copies of herself. To each of them she nodded a friendly 'hello' and kept on her way. She knew that Becky and Rob had gone up the other side of the island, and she prayed again that they hadn't decided to cross the island, in which case she would have to pass them. But she doubted it. She herself had taken the side that was out of the sun.

  She was right. It took less than an hour until she reached the tidal causeway, and in a stroke of good fortune the tide was low enough for her to walk right across (had it not been the ferry would only have set her back £1.50). Another half hour later and she had reached the quarry where she and Geoffrey had parked before, and where she had left her car this time, too. She loaded her bag and drove away. A half hour after that, and twenty miles away, Julia spotted a large rubbish bin by the side of the road. She pulled up beside it, then quickly threw her burka, her gloves and the rest of her disguise inside, pushing it deep so that it wasn't even visible to anyone e
lse that used the bin after her.

  And then she drove on.

  Forty-Five

  It was mild enough that Becky had to stop and remove her hoodie, tying it around her waist before continuing. The late summer air warmed her bare legs, and the sea, rolling lazily around the rocks at the foot of the cliffs, looked inviting. She hiked a half mile along the cliff top and then took the narrow and steep path that wound down the cliff and onto the little inlet beach where Rob had said he would be.

  It didn't take her long to find him, with his tripod set up at the base of the cliffs, leaning over the lens pointed at the nesting birds.

  "Boo!" she said, sneaking up on him and placing both her hands on his broad shoulders. "Didn't see me, did you?"

  In response he silently turned the camera around and pressed the button to make it display the last image he had taken. It was a photograph of Becky, picking her way carefully down the cliff path, her tongue poking out in concentration.

  "New profile picture for you?" he asked.

  "Shut up," she replied. "I'm deleting that one." Then she pressed herself up on tip-toes to land a kiss on his lips.

  "What's that for?" Rob asked.

  "That's for getting me out of that room. I was just getting nowhere. And what you said this morning was right. I need to give myself a break. I need to get out and about a bit. Enjoy the island. If I can let that distract me, I'll figure out what's wrong with the book."

  Rob cocked his head to one side. "Okay," he said. Then he added: "Or you could tell me what it's all about, and why it's such a big secret? I might even be able to help."

  She smiled evasively.

  "You will be able to help. With the second draft. But I need to finish it first." As if to illustrate the point she turned back to the camera and began to scroll through the other images he had taken. She knew he preferred to edit them before showing her. But he didn't stop her.