by AB Morgan
‘Okay, that sounds exciting.’
‘Not if you’re petrified of heights it doesn’t. It gets better. She filmed me with her phone to capture my reaction to the surprise and continued videoing as she handed me another card. This one confirmed that Helena had pledged to make a five thousand pounds donation to Cancer Research.’
‘I see.’ Konrad smiled appreciatively towards Matthew.
‘No, you don’t see. My parents died of cancer within a month of each other in the same year that I was divorced from Amy, and I’d been raising small amounts by doing fun runs at the weekends. Helena’s pledge was astounding and her thoughtfulness made me break down in tears. Embarrassing as it was, she filmed me crying like a child. I didn’t suspect a thing.’
‘But you agreed and did the skydive.’
‘Of course. I had two sleepless nights to get used to the idea before the actual jump, and somehow, I managed to convince Helena that it had been exhilarating and the best thrill ride of my life. The sad truth was that I had been petrified the whole time. But as promised, I was handsomely rewarded with a set of my own house keys, a donation to a charity close to my heart, and shortly after landing, at the back of the aircraft hangar building, I was treated to hot risky outdoor sex against a wall and confirmation of the date for our wedding.
‘I was over the moon, Mr Neale. Not just because of that, but because she wanted to meet with Josh to tell him about the wedding plans personally, and she even insisted that if Josh was not happy, then we would postpone until he was.’
Annette stopped the play back. ‘Kon, do we really need this soppy sentimental stuff?’
‘Have you read the whole transcript? You have, I know you have because you wrote the bloody thing. In which case you must have missed the relevance of exploring the special thrilling treats that Matthew was being given. Anyway, we said we’d watch the whole thing again, make notes and get this into our heads. Can we please stick to the plan?’ Konrad had heard what was about to be revealed over the next hours and days of the editing, and he was unable to emphasise enough the importance of retaining the integrity of the whole interview. ‘No cuts. Not in the first run. Tell you what, shall we stop for lunch? I think we could all do with sustenance and a comfort break.’
Nobody argued with him, and the three men left Annette to secure the door.
‘Back in an hour – a walk in the park is called for,’ Konrad snapped, distracted by a personal quandary, fuelled by the interview re-run. He didn’t crave food; he needed to hide away in selfish misery to deal with his inner turmoil.
Sitting on the park bench, he played with his mobile phone, moving his fingers across it. Pressing the contacts button and then reverting back to the main screen. He was wearing a shabby baseball cap to hide his face. Despite having a particular dislike for that particular type of headwear, he had to take some precaution against being recognised if he wanted time for quiet contemplation in a public place. ‘What have I done?’ he said aloud to a passing squirrel.
Prodding a finger onto the tiny phone keyboard, he formulated a message.
“Lorna. I can’t do it. I can’t live without you. Bollocks to my public profile. Bollocks to everything. Please. Please, let me see you and I beg you to forgive me. K xx”
Not giving himself time to cancel the words, he pressed the send button, hoping that his self-inflicted broken heart could be mended. He waited. A reply arrived moments before he was due back in the editing room.
“You either haven’t read my letter or you haven’t received it.”
This was from a phone number that Konrad didn’t recognise.
“Lorna? Is that you?”
“No. Who is Lorna? Has she made you sad? You look so dejected.”
He scanned around him, trying to spot a familiar face. Who’s messing me about?
Nearby, there was an elderly couple walking their equally ancient West Highland Terrier, a young mother with a baby in a pram, a middle-aged man cycling past, three people on the next bench along eating sandwiches and snacks for lunch, and dozens of people meandering around for as far as he could see. He decided to ignore the message. Time was slipping by, necessitating a coffee stop on the way past the street kiosk on the corner of the main road. Nothing was heard from Lorna. A dispirited soul, he plodded back into the uninspiring high-rise building where he would be incarcerated for the foreseeable future.
Every editing workday he was welcomed by two receptionists who never seemed to tire of greeting staff and answering the phone. On re-entering his workplace, through the automatic revolving door, he took off his cap and smiled at the immaculately coiffured, uniformed pair behind the desk.
Lillian picked up the ringing phone. ‘Good afternoon, Marriot and Weston’s, how may I help you?’ she chirped. Her colleague, George, had a poorly disguised crush on Konrad.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Neale. I hope you’ve had the most amazing lunch break.’ George was incredibly camp. He flirted unashamedly with men and women alike, and got away with it.
Konrad found him amusing, and was always cheered by Gorgeous George, as he was affectionately known amongst the office staff. ‘Not quite up to the usual standard, George, I have to say.’ Konrad raised his coffee cup. ‘I didn’t quite manage to eat anything. A business call, you know how it is, but thanks for your concern. I don’t suppose I could trouble you to order a Caesar salad from Poncho’s Deli around the corner. Could I?’
‘Oooh, I’d be delighted. I’ll deliver it to you personally, Mr Neale. Give me five minutes.’
I know you’d love five minutes with me, young man, but I don’t swing your way.
He watched, entertained, as George minced from behind the reception desk, took the twenty-pound note offered by Konrad, brushing his fingers on purpose as he did so, before prancing towards the door. ‘Lillian, I shall return forthwith once I have completed a most urgent mission for the lovely Mr Neale.’ Lillian acknowledged this with a wave. She was still chatting on the phone, repeating the phrase, ‘Yes, I see,’ peppered with the occasional, ‘Oh dear.’ She gestured to Konrad by raising one finger and handed him a registered letter as he headed for the lifts while resurrecting his flattened hat-hair, smiling to himself.
‘You say the skydive was the first of many special events, but the impression we have of you and Helena is that you willingly organised charitable fundraising activities and you raised tens of thousands of pounds. Are you saying that these formed a systematic plan of Helena’s making?’
Matthew replied with impatience. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t you see? Helena had me cornered. Cancer Research is a noble cause, and one which was part of my grieving process for my parents, so I was hardly going to refuse. But as you will no doubt have noticed, the events were all organised by Helena and Naomi, but carried out by me. The abseiling was next on the list. Then came the bloody wing walking…’
As Matthew recalled the order of his challenges he counted them on his fingers. ‘I’ve no idea how I didn’t throw up. This is where you’ve missed the central motive of Helena’s actions, Mr Neale. She would offer me a number of rewards, which would be in the form of money to Cancer Research, adoration from my son for being heroic in his eyes and a direct physical treat for me.
‘Once I had completed a challenge, whatever it was, we would pose for the obligatory publicity shots, and having promised me a kinky thrill as a reward she would delay our return home, or drive me insane with frustration by flirting with me. Sometimes, even when we did get home, she would sit me on a chair and walk naked in front of me not letting me touch her until I was about to explode. You understand?’
Konrad desperately wanted to hear the details, but knew that would be for his own guilty pleasure and wouldn’t help to reduce the fantasies in his mind that were tormenting him. He changed the subject before embarrassing himself on camera.
‘You mention the publicity shots, were they the reason you both had your looks enhanced?’
Matthew
glanced towards the floor before he answered. ‘That’s a yes and a no. It began as a treat for us. Helena told me to take the day off work one Friday. It was July or August, I think. Helena woke me on the morning of that day and, as predicted, gave me one of her “surprise cards,” which had by then begun to fill me with dread. However, by way of an unexpected change, she’d arranged a whole day at a health spa.’
5
Konrad inclined his head, encouraging Matthew to continue. He had decided to let the story flow. There was something in Matthew’s tone of voice indicating the importance of this particular reference.
‘It was just what we needed. Helena had booked us into a swanky spa hotel for the night because we had a charity zip wire event to attend the next afternoon. The hotel was about halfway there. Josh was taking part in the sponsored junior event and he met us there with a couple of his mates. If I remember rightly, he had a lift from one of the other dads.
‘The zip wire was an enormous long death-slide across a rock-strewn valley; one of those new adventure attractions for the ultimate thrill seekers and adrenalin junkies. Helena and Naomi, with their magical powers of persuasion, had negotiated with the owners to publicise the opening of “Europe’s second biggest zip wire” by having a charity event. We dressed up as superhero characters and launched ourselves down the almighty wire. The boys loved the experience; I hated every minute. My fear of heights had worsened with each event, but I had at least learnt to put the terror aside until the moment of no return. Even so, it was petrifying.
‘On the drive to the spa, Helena and I talked about wedding plans. That discussion continued throughout most of the day, as we made final decisions on music, confirmed the number of guests, talked about the honeymoon, the usual endless organisational nightmare that had dominated our waking hours.
‘She had a clear idea in her head of how she wanted our special day to unfold and initially I went along for the ride. It was to be her day. Our parents were dead, and I only had distant cousins and Josh as family. The rest of my guests would be friends from work, Josh’s gang of spotty mates and my old university pals, so it didn’t matter to me, as long as Helena was happy.
‘It was a wonderful time at the spa; although, there was one unsettling incident that has played on my mind ever since.’
‘Go on…’
‘We’d been chatting in the steam room as Helena went into the finest details of the arrangements, and to be honest I had tuned out. The last lady had just left the spa area, probably sick to death of hearing about flowers and table settings. Anyway, I found myself disagreeing with Helena about the scale of the plans. I didn’t want a fuss and yet she was describing this great lavish affair with a horse-drawn carriage, chandeliers, a full orchestra and a dress of biblical proportions. I didn’t remember agreeing to what sounded like a ludicrously expensive and ostentatious affair. That’s not my style. When I broached the subject, she reacted as if I had made a vicious attack on her dreams, which I probably had, and, as a result, she stormed out of the sauna, heading back towards the Jacuzzi in a magnificent sulk.
‘I sat silently for a matter of seconds before shouting my apology to her and after sufficient begging she stepped reluctantly from the hot tub and back towards the sauna in the corner of the room. She made mocking faces at me through the small pane of glass in the sauna door, making me promise that she could have whatever she wanted for our wedding. I caved in without an ounce of resistance. What was the point? Then she said she couldn’t open the door. Or she pretended that she couldn’t.’
‘You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?’ Konrad said impassively.
‘You can decide for yourself, it’s my observations and my perspective. For all I know the door was stuck, but the expression on Helena’s face was of pleasure, not concern, as she held the handle. She could easily have had her foot against the bottom of the door, so I thought she was messing about at first. Which is what she said had happened. It was only after I collapsed that she went for help. She said the alarm hadn’t worked. The manager came back with her and they freed me without too much trouble, apparently. I’d passed out.’
‘You weren’t angry?’
‘Not at the time. I thought it was an accident.’
A doubtful look crossed the interviewer’s face. ‘I see. So, what was next on Helena’s itinerary?’
‘Over carrots and quiche, she informed me what was in store for the rest of the day. In brief, I had to endure the spa treatments of medieval torture to earn my reward. While Helena had her nails done, I had my eyebrows shaped and my nose hair removed. That really makes your eyes water, I can assure you, Mr Neale. After which she revealed my next hair removal experience.’
‘All involving wax?’
‘You’ve got it. “Back, sack and crack” the next one was called.’
Konrad winced in sympathy as Matthew continued his description of events.
‘Good God, no man should have to endure that indignity. But it pleased Helena so much she squealed with delight at my protests and manly screams. The result was fascinating to her, which led to her suggestion about plastic surgery and veneers for my teeth. Just rhinoplasty and new teeth, that’s all I had done. The rest was my own hard work. She’d had me pounding away in the gym at home, and I have to say I was pleased with the results. The more toned I became, the more attractive Helena seemed to find me, so it was a win-win situation.’
‘I’m still puzzled; why did you agree to something as drastic as plastic surgery, Matthew? You seem like a reasonable man, a bloke’s bloke who likes a beer and a night out with the lads, so why would you agree?’
‘I didn’t at first, but that’s where I began to lose myself.’
‘Hold it there please.’ Annette confronted Konrad again. ‘This drags on too long, it’s way too lovey dovey and poor-man-needs-sex, don’t you think? Now, having said that, I like the phrase he uses here – “that’s where I began to lose myself” – so can we make a record of that please?’ Annette, clearly not content with having had lunch, was now devouring a packet of chocolate digestives that she was dunking in her coffee and selfishly hadn’t offered one to anyone else. Konrad had finished his salad and risked being given a slap on his wrist as he could resist no longer and helped himself to a biscuit. Annette scowled at him as he offered the packet to Slow Joe, and then to Mike who hardly ever expressed a controversial opinion in case he offended his colleagues in the production team; instead he worked silently and diligently to earn the reward of approval from Annette, the undisputed queen of the editing suite.
The afternoon had been uninspiring apart from the dramatic entrance from Gorgeous George who had them in fits of giggles for a few precious minutes. George had caused a stir in Poncho’s Deli when he had decided to buy a treat for his colleague Lillian.
‘She’s partial to sickly cakes and puddings, and there was a special offer on. I spoke to the lady who was serving and she was happy to sort out a takeaway salad for you, Mr Neale, and then I got my words in a muddle and I asked her for a “stiffy cocky pudding with cream” for Lillian. I didn’t know where to put myself! Anyway, Lillian knew where to put it. Know what I mean?’ George had then swanned out leaving a cloud of aftershave in his wake.
‘That boy should be on the stage.’
‘How did you lose yourself?’ Konrad asked, following the hook.
‘At first, the suggestion of plastic surgery was ludicrous to me. I’m not that vain, but when I declined, Helena became really upset. She turned my argument around reacting as if I had offended her by rejecting her idea. “You don’t want to be more attractive to me?” It wasn’t a moment of slight offence, Mr Neale; she shunned me for days, so eventually I did what she wanted. It was easier. After that, I conceded to every challenge and every request, because I had to have her affection and that’s what I mean when I say I lost myself.’
Konrad didn’t speak, allowing Matthew to complete the full answer to the question.
‘You’re c
orrect, I wasn’t the sort of man to have plastic surgery, but I agreed to it because the rewards were worth it. The more I became the man she wanted, the more she provided.’ Matthew sat back in his chair, breathing out as if he had unburdened himself.
‘You mean sex.’
‘Is that all you think about, Mr Neale?’ Matthew had caught him out again and he could have kicked himself for lack of judgment.
‘I’m talking about the rewards from the charity work, which were far-reaching in terms of the publicity for Helena’s business. Not surprisingly, my company bosses were also pleased with the attention. There was such a strong link between our products and cancer care, and they quite rightly took advantage of the positive press by sponsoring quite a few of my daredevil challenges. Work mates would make up the crowds cheering me on. To be frank, I think the lads in the manufacturing side were running a betting ring on whether I would die, or at least end up seriously mangled in hospital. I let them down in that regard, but I did earn their admiration. Can you imagine how proud Josh was of his superman father? It was almost worth it for that alone. I felt like the greatest dad that ever lived.
‘My fundraising isn’t why you’re here though, is it? And it’s not the most fascinating of subjects. I do appreciate that you are far more interested in my wife’s ability to lead me around by my manhood, and why I killed her, are you not, Mr Neale?’
