by C. J. Skuse
‘Oh, babe, that’s a fucking pipe dream after this. This changes everything. I’m gonna need to sell the flat to pay for fucking lawyers at this rate.’
‘No. You can’t. We have to go. We were almost there, Craig. You were thinking about it. We were going to talk about it when you got back.’
‘That was before all this, wasn’t it? Babe, get a sense of perspective, that’s not important now.’
And, just like that, my dream sailed down the river into the sunset, like it was always supposed to.
He could have got away with this. I’d warmed to him over the last few weeks. I thought things were going to change now. I’d had the epiphany about Wesley Parsons, then we found out about the Grain of Rice and we talked about making an offer on Honey Cottage and I thought we’d turned a corner to a bright new future.
Now we’d turned back again. And a terrible realisation came over me like a cold sweat.
‘They’re going to search the flat, aren’t they?’ I said.
‘Yeah. But…’
‘When will they search it?’
‘Don’t worry about the pot now. That’s doesn’t matter.’
I wasn’t worried about the pot. I was worried about AJ.
‘I have to go.’
‘No, Rhiannon, don’t hang up. Rhiannon, please, please!’
I could still hear him screaming pleases as I clicked End Call and turned it off.
It only dawned on me at that moment – maybe I had loved Craig. Why else would I have gone to such lengths to hurt him? To ruin him? You don’t do that if you’re just putting up with someone, do you? Maybe that’s what love is. The thing that drives a killer to kill. To kill extraordinarily.
I heard that goddamn fortune-teller in my head again.
You don’t work well with others. You’ll be on your own. You will have no one.
I walked towards our chalet to grab my coat. There was a nip in the air.
Back on the seafront, it was windy and a few people were dotted about swigging beer bottles and smoking. The wind blew grit into my mouth and salt in my eyes. A child’s bib had been dropped on the sea wall.
Madame Gwen was just folding up her board outside her shop and dragging it indoors. I watched her for a little while from the shadows of the multicoloured beach huts. The child’s bib flapped in the wind and flipped over. There was a little brown dog on it, saying, ‘Woof!’
I crossed the road.
‘Hello, again,’ I said. ‘Can I come in for a minute? It won’t take long, I promise.’
‘No, no, you go. Leave…’
*
The beauty of a glass murder weapon is that if you throw it into the sea, it won’t be found. They’ll know what did it, of course they will – the claw-footed stand will be there with no crystal ball – but they won’t know where it went and they won’t know who bashed her skull in with it. Because who would suspect a smiley, happy young pregnant woman in a loose red summer vest and white pedal pushers, strolling along the pier on a summer’s evening, on the way to meet her friends?
A woman wouldn’t be capable of such savage acts of brutality. A woman wouldn’t cut off a man’s cock and hide it in the back of her boyfriend’s van. I had meant to remove it when we learned about the baby.
I forgot.
A day ago, everything looked rosy. A day ago, I finally knew what I wanted. A day ago, it was just me, Craig, Tink and the Grain of Rice and I could see my life mapped out in front of me as though none of the rest of it – Priory Gardens, Canal Man, Park Man, Julia and the others – had happened. Yes, I had wanted to fit him up for those deaths in the early days but only cos I was angry. When the mists of anger had cleared a little and we knew the Grain of Rice was coming, I could feel things changing for us. He wanted me. He wanted us. I wanted to be better. I could envisage the life we would have – me and him and Tink and the Grain of Rice – at Honey Cottage. I could almost see the chickens clucking about in their pen. Almost smell my proud yellow roses in the flower beds. I was Happy. And Happy was my undoing. I told you. Happy’s not meant for me.
I saw a baby… covered in blood.
Did she mean the blood I’d already spilled or the blood I would spill? She wouldn’t say which baby. She wouldn’t say if it had been one of the children at Priory Gardens or Anni’s baby Sam or my baby, The Grain of Rice. She just would not say. So I’d stoved in her skull. I stoved in her skull as she lay cowering.
It can’t be that. It won’t be that; I know it’s not that. Even on my reddest, angriest days I know I’m not capable of killing a baby. I’m a good ‘mother’ to Tink. I’ve never hurt her and she’s my baby.
Except Tink’s a dog. And the baby is a human. And I’ve killed more than my fair share of them.
‘There you are,’ said a voice. I was in the swimming pool, fully clothed, washing the last of Madame Gwen’s blood from my hands.
‘Just fancied a swim,’ I said, shivering all over. ‘You coming in?’
‘You what?’ He laughed, swigging from his can. ‘You’re a right nutter, you are.’
‘So they all say.’
He smirked, pulling off his top and bombing into the water like a child.
And soon we were kissing and he had lifted me against him.
And then we were back in the chalet, soaking wet and he was penetrating me deeply on my squeaky mattress. I had missed out on my thirteenth spot – I was now number nineteen – funnily enough the exact age I was when I made my first kill.
It was fun. It was fast. I’m probably diseased now. But wasn’t I always?
We dressed, then dried our hair and led each other back into the Club Hub to grind against each other to some ear-blistering Euro-techno/Arctic-Monkeys mash-up while the constellation of twinkling lights blinded us. I laughed as he kissed me. And we both sang along. And the rest of the PICSOs danced over to us and pushed him out of the way. Pidge handed me my handbag that she’d kept with her since I went to answer the phone.
‘There you are, we’ve been worried about you. Everything OK?’
I nodded and gave her a hug. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Felt a bit off but my head’s clear now.’
‘Why are you all wet?’
‘Me and Alfie went for a swim.’
Cue raucous cheering and tit-grabbing. Lucille rubbed my tummy and kissed my cheek. Imelda gave me a sweaty PVC hug and wrapped her almost-featherless boa around my neck and told me she loved me. And we all linked arms for an impromptu cancan. And the lights bounced off our glittered cleavages and shining faces.
The lights all went red to white to red to white. Flashing and blinding. And the air grew hotter till my skin sweated. And my friends were all dancing beside me, hot and glittery and happy. We all looked good on the dance floor. And the music grew louder until my ears rang. As long as we were dancing, no one would see the blood under my nails. As long as the music played, we would be fine.
I dreaded to think what would happen when it stopped.
Sunday, 23 June
I’m back at the flat, finally. There’d been no cabs available last night thanks to a big football match and a gala event on at the winter gardens in town so I had to pay for an extortionate early morning one, nearly twice the fare. Hang the expense. I had to get back. I called Jim before I left. He’d said they could hang onto Tink for a bit longer if I wanted, but I said I needed her home with me. I’d missed her so much.
Little did I know, something of a personality transplant had occurred in the tiny Judas while she’d been away.
She spent about five seconds in my arms, licking my face all over until she got a whiff of something beyond the bedroom door and then it was all she was focused on. She became skittish and barky. Scratching at the floor outside, sniffing underneath it. Shaking with anticipation.
‘Aww, bless. She thinks Craig’s in there,’ I said to Jim.
‘I haven’t told Elaine yet, about all this,’ he said, sitting down at the dining table. I tried to get Tink to leave her post out
side the bedroom but she wouldn’t come to me. Snapped at me and refused her little bones and everything. ‘This’ll kill her, it will. What can we do, Rhiannon?’
‘It’ll sort itself out, it has to,’ I said, sitting down opposite him and covering his hands with mine. ‘They haven’t charged him yet, have they? And Craig wouldn’t do this. He just wouldn’t.’
‘Haven’t slept a wink since he phoned. I mean, who would do this to him? Who’s this Lana he mentioned?’
‘A woman he’s been having an affair with. From my office. She’s a little… nuts, to say the least. Everyone at work says so. She’s tried to take her own life before.’
He sighed, long and deep. ‘Stupid sod. This is going to be all over the papers this week and there’s nothing we can do about it. What’s all this going to do to Elaine, eh? Doctor’s already upped her medication twice this year.’
‘Maybe this’ll all blow over before we have to tell her?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ he said with a grave stroke of his stubbly chin.
Tink was bum-shuffling outside my bedroom door and yapping like crazy. ‘Tink? Are you all right, baby? Have you missed your Mum?’
‘I don’t know how to keep his mum safe from this,’ Jim went on. ‘How do I tell her he’s been arrested, let alone arrested for murder?’ I thought he was about to split wide open at the seams, but somehow he stitched himself back together. ‘How are you doing anyway?’
‘Fine,’ I said, then back-pedalling. ‘I mean I haven’t slept a wink either but, well, it’s all rubbish… isn’t it? There’s obviously been some massive mistake.’
‘Damn right. Oh, excuse my language.’ He handed me the business card of the solicitor Craig wanted to represent him. ‘I’ve got a meeting at ten o’clock with her, see where we stand if he is charged, God help us. You’ll stand by him, won’t you? I know he strayed, Love, but… he really needs you now. He needs all of us.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,’ I said, clutching his forearm for reassurance and posting the solicitor’s card in my jeans pocket. ‘Listen, I would offer you a coffee but I’ve only just got back and I’ve got no milk in or anything…’
‘Oh, don’t worry, love. I just came to drop the little one off.’ He looked sadly across at Tink. ‘Seems like she’s settled back in. Excited to be back with your mummy, aren’t you, petal?’
Tink yapped at Jim and scampered over to start climbing up his leg.
‘Oh, you want Granddad, do you?’ He picked her up and she licked his cheek and pressed on his moobs like she had something urgent to tell him. ‘I’m gonna miss this one. She’s been a good distraction.’
I watched Tink, pressing on Jim’s mood with her front paws. She was telling him. The little rat was selling me out. The moment I got up, she leapt down from his lap and scurried across the room, barking frantically and sniffing under the door frame. She knew, all right. She knew what was in there and she wasn’t going to leave it alone. I put my hand down to her but she barked at me. She was dog-shouting at me: I. KNOW. WHAT. YOU. DID. I. KNOW. WHAT’S. IN. THERE.
Jim cleared his throat, like he was forcing something down. ‘Listen love, if you want to, you could come back with us for a few days. I know Elaine is going to need the support when I tell her. You and Tink being there, it might, I don’t know…’
‘I’ve got work. I can’t.’
‘They’ll give you some compassionate leave, surely to goodness.’
I shrugged. ‘I doubt it.’ Tink furiously scratched and scraped at the floor outside the bedroom like she was digging a tunnel from a gas chamber. She was not going to leave it alone. With a clench in my chest, I knew what I had to do.
‘Jim, why don’t you hang on to Tink for a while? Sounds like Elaine might need her more than me.’
‘Eh? I can’t do that, love. She’s your dog.’
‘Yeah, but she’s very unsettled with Craig not being here. And she’ll be on her own more now with Craig… I know how much Elaine dotes on her.’
Jim nodded. ‘She cried when I said I was taking her back this morning. So did I in the car, just between you and me. Just temporary, like?’ he said, the colour returning to his face. ‘That would be wonderful.’
‘Yeah. Just temporary. It would help both of us out, wouldn’t it? I’ll be over to see you guys soon. Let me get you some more food and her toys.’
‘Alright, well that offer still stands, love. You need a break from this place, you come to us. Bed’s all made up, you know that. Anytime you like. You don’t even have to phone.’
‘Thanks, Jim.’
As Jim dragged Tink away from the bedroom and put on her lead, she was still barking at me and sniffing the air in front of the door. My best friend – the one who’d been with me all this time, by my side, watching my back, there for me when no one else was, had finally had enough of my murderous shit. Shivering and growling, her little needle teeth all bared and gleaming. I didn’t recognise her any more. I didn’t want her around.
When they’d gone, I threw open the patio doors, allowing the already pulsing heat of the day to stream into the flat, along with the smells of the balcony. The basil had run rampant, as had the oregano. I ran the lemon thyme through my fingers, covering my skin with the delicious scent.
I went into the bedroom and peeled back the duvet.
‘That was close,’ I said, crawling across the bed towards AJ and kissing his cheek and cuddling into his neck. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m back early? Had a massive argument with the PICSOs. Got a cab back. I called Imelda a controlling witch and she smacked my face. I told Lucille she was spineless and she ran out crying. I told that Gemma/Jenna person she was a simpering idiot. Can’t remember what I said to the others. One of them threw her Lambrini over me, I remember that.’ I kissed him on his lips. ‘We’ve got some uninvited guests coming. They’ll want to talk to me. They’ll take you away. I don’t want them to. Everyone leaves me. I want you to stay.’
I kissed his lips, then pulled away to sit astride him, looking down on his closed eyelids and long eyelashes; his perfect naked form as my warm thighs straddled his freezing torso. And for the first time ever, I said it and I truly meant it.
‘I love you.’ I peeled off my shirt and lay down against him completely – our baby between us; my warmth becoming colder by the second. ‘I wish I could stay here forever.’ I closed my eyes. ‘Maybe I will. This could be how it all ends.’
What the fuck are you doing?
‘What?’ I looked around. The atmosphere in the room had changed, as though Tink had walked in. But no one was there. I heard the voice again.
I said, What the fuck are you doing? The police are going to be here any second.
I looked at AJ’s lifeless face on the pillow. It wasn’t him.
No, I said it. You came back early to get rid of the body. So get rid of it.
I looked along the side of the bed. I looked towards the door. Then I looked down at my own stomach.
Yeah, me, down here. I’m all you’ve got left now. You better start listening to me if you want to get out of this.
‘No. This is NOT you, Grain of Rice. This is NOT you.’
Of course it’s me. Do you actually want the police to come here and find you like this? Do you want to go to prison?
‘I don’t care any more.’
Well, I care and you have to care to because I’m not being born in jail. You need to get him out of here. Pronto.
‘How? It’s broad daylight, for one, and, for two, I can’t lift him. How do you suggest I get him down the stairs, across the car park, into my boot…?’
You know what to do.
‘Do I?’
Yes. Cut him up.
‘What?’
Get a power saw and cut him up. You can do it in the bath tub. Then wrap the pieces up, put them in suitcases and throw them in the sea…
‘I can’t do that!’
Or bury them in the woods behind Grandad�
�s house, even better. You can buy a shovel when you buy the saw.
‘It’s in my head. It’s all in my stupid, broken head. Stop talking to me.’
It’s not in your head. Wake the fuck up and smell the decomposition. I’m telling you, you have to cut him up then he’ll be easier to move. It’s your only way out.
‘I am not cutting him up. That’s disgusting.’
Says the woman lying naked on top of a corpse.
‘You’re just a blob. What do you know?’
And through the silence of the freezing apartment came the loudest of knocking sounds on the front door.
I know you’re in deep shit now, Mummy.
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COPYRIGHT
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017
Copyright © CJ Skuse 2017
CJ Skuse asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
