Perfect Murder

by Rebecca Bradley

  I smiled at her. ‘I’ll let you know if I’ll be buying some boots later then.’

  She took my cash and I picked up my glass of coke, walked back to my table and relaxed for what felt like the first time all day. I let out a long breath, the tension escaping from my muscles as the air escaped from my lungs. I hadn’t realised I was wound up so tight. Leaning my head back against the wall I closed my eyes. I was overwhelmed by a heaviness and a complete lack of energy. The morning had obviously taken more out of me than I had realised.

  My meal arrived and I thanked the young man who served me. He gave me a quick smile and hurried back to the bar. The scent of the meal wafted up to my nose and my stomach rumbled. I was hungry and it looked heavenly. I dug in.

  The room was filled with the chatter of people enjoying their day.

  I rubbed at my face. It felt… I wasn’t sure I could put it into words how it was being with the group of people in here as I intended to go back to my spot on the cliff top after I’d eaten. It was a little like playing with the baby duck before you roast it.

  I closed my eyes again and thought of Beth. Alone at home. Yes, she had her carers, but they were there because they were paid. I visited her regularly because I wanted to spend time with her. She had a friend who popped in every so often, but since she had got worse the friend’s visits had become further apart. Beth didn’t talk about it much. Said she understood. I didn’t. Beth was still Beth.

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  The voice was close to me on my right-hand side. I opened my eyes and there was a woman with a couple of kids at the next table. She was peering at me over her glasses.

  ‘You okay? You seem like you have a lot on your mind. I don’t mean to pry, but well…’ She waved an arm towards the children. ‘They were staring so I thought I had better ask before they did.’

  I smiled at the kids then at the woman. ‘I’m fine, thank you. I was thinking of a friend who can’t make today. I miss her.’

  ‘Would she like it here?’

  I looked around the busy pub, at the chattering people and the warm food and good company. ‘She would like it very much. It’s such a shame she can’t make it.’

  The woman nodded as though she understood. ‘Maybe one day she will. It’s a wonderful place. I drag my kids here and they moan, but once here they love it, they love the wide open spaces, room for them to run about.’

  The kids were pulling faces behind her back and I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She figured out what they were doing and she scowled at them then laughed with me.

  ‘Well, take care anyway,’ she said and went back to her own meal.

  I scrubbed at my eyes then leaned forward again and ate the meal that had been brought for me. It was delicious, as promised, and much needed.

  After a warm drink I took one last look around, at the people being fed and watered, I thanked the staff behind the bar, giving a definite smile to the woman who had served me, and made my way back out. Checking my watch I saw I had whiled away two hours inside. What had made me stay so long in there? I didn’t know and I wouldn’t dwell on it. I needed to get back outside and follow through with my plan.

  The clouds had gathered over the cliffs and the sun was hidden from view. It was cooler and I put my jacket back on. May was a strange month.

  Instead of heading straight for the spot I had been in earlier I moved position and sat elsewhere. I didn’t want to appear as though I had been there all day. That was a reason to remember a person.

  People continued to come and go. Think of a time-lapse video and you will know what it was like seeing the groups and couples walking up and down these cliffs. They were popular. I was beginning to lose hope that today would happen. But then people started to pass by less frequently, the day was coming to a natural end.

  I was exhausted from having sat in such a difficult position for so long. I dropped backwards onto the grass and stretched my legs out in front of me so I was fully elongated and I looked upwards into the sky. It was good to be stretched out and not cramped up as I had been. The clouds floated across my vision, the sun beating through as the openings allowed. I tried to search for figures of animals in the clouds, faces, fingers, cars, anything I could see, but even though I wrote stories, I did not appear to have such a creative mind that I could find cloud shapes as I lay on the ground looking up.

  I stretched my arms above my head, pulling my spine out straighter and then hauled myself back into a sitting position.

  I looked around. Down the left and right of me, yes, there were definitely fewer people.

  A flutter kicked in my stomach. I sat up straighter. Pushed my shoulders back. Looked out at the horizon, at the vastness of the world.

  Then he appeared.

  A single person. He was young, somewhere in his twenties. A large black rucksack on his back, jeans and trainers. He wasn’t a walker.

  He looked over at me. My stomach flipped. It was a glancing look but he had noticed me. I wasn’t sure how worried I should be. Though I supposed everyone who had walked up here had noticed the woman working. Some had said hello, the pleasantness of walkers.

  It was a great place to work if you admired a stunning view and didn’t mind being creased up all day while you worked, or you were here for a short period of time.

  He pulled out a small folded-up seat from his backpack, one of those canvas stools that fold with cross-over metal legs. It was tiny and he looked huge when he seated himself onto it, but I imagined it was more comfortable than how I had been sitting for the majority of the day. He had obviously been here before, or to places like this, and knew that this little carry-around was a necessity. It was something I would remember if I ever needed to visit a cliff top again.

  Next out of the bag was a sketch pad and then a wooden box filled with what I presumed was pencils. I wasn’t close enough to see. He was focused on what he was doing and didn’t pay me any more notice.

  Again, I looked around. There were a few people about but they all looked to be walking away from us. This was looking better for me.

  I turned back to the man. He was young. He had his whole life ahead of him. But I’d missed my chance with the pensioners, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. If I wanted to see if I could commit the perfect murder then I had to take what had been given to me.

  I waited another half an hour. Thinking through what I should do, how I would do it. Waiting for the last of the day’s visitors to leave.

  It was me and the man.

  Standing up, I did my routine of stretching out the muscles and joints that had seized up in my body. Heard and felt them as they complained and groaned. Curled my neck. Stretched my fingers to the sky as I stood on my tiptoes and looked left and right, up and down the Seven Sisters and made sure there was no one else in sight. The views were fantastic and it was easy to see if there was anyone heading our way.

  There wasn’t.

  We were alone. I took in a deep breath.

  The now cool air expanded in my lungs. I looked out to the horizon again. The edge of the world.

  This was my chance to change my mind. To back away and go home, back to Lilac and back to Beth. Could I really do this? My stomach was twisting deep inside me. A sign to walk away or simply a few nerves making themselves known? I took a deep breath. I had to do this. It wasn’t as though it was the first time.

  I took a step forward.

  He heard the movement.

  ‘Lovely spot to work, isn’t it?’ he said as he turned and looked at me.

  I could always go home.

  ‘It is. It’s beautiful. I have done so much work today, sitting here, with the vast openness of hills of the cliffs and the sea and the skyline as my backdrop,’ I told him. And I had. I had written more today than I had in any other day. I took another step closer to him.

  He was nowhere near the edge. He was sitting at a safe distance, working. His right hand moving in a gentle rhythm.

  ‘I like to come up
here sometimes. Especially later in the day, it’s peaceful.’ He turned to me. ‘It’s not often I see anyone else up here working though. You’re not from around here are you?’ Did he know why I was here? My mind was working overtime.

  His eyes were so blue. They were piercing.

  I shook my head.

  ‘No, I thought it would be a beautiful place to get some work done as I’m close to a deadline.’

  Again I was going with the truth. However this worked out, the truth was the truth. I was close enough to him now I could see over his shoulder. I could see what he was sketching and he was talented. He had captured the heaviness of the clouds over the sea. The way the two forces of nature were meeting at the horizon. He was a brilliant young man and I still didn’t need to do this. I could walk away.

  He saw me look and a flush crept up his cheek.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s okay. It’s just that no one usually sees my work.’

  I continued past him. Right up to the edge. These cliffs were fragile and my heart started to beat hard in my chest. So hard it vibrated in my throat. How were these cliffs not fenced off? Especially in today’s age of health and safety. There was a thrill deep within my soul at standing on what seemed like the edge of the world. I felt as though I was teetering. I wanted to spread my arms out to steady myself.

  There was a sound behind me as though he wanted to say something, but wasn’t quite sure what to say to the stranger he had just met.

  I took in a deep breath and looked down.

  Such a sheer drop.

  A fall would kill you.

  I turned to him.

  Put a lilt of panic in my voice.

  ‘Oh my God!’ My hand went to my mouth. Was I really doing this?

  It was too late now.

  His hand stopped moving. He looked at me. His mouth slightly agape. An unspoken word.

  ‘Look. Down there.’ I pointed below. ‘Jesus.’ I closed my eyes. My other hand clutched at my stomach. I was about to cross a line I could never come back from. I was seconds from the unthinkable. I had mere moments to back away, to change my mind.

  I stayed where I was.

  The pencil in his hand dropped to the ground and he was at my side. ‘What is it?’ There was panic in his own voice. A shade higher than it was not a minute ago.

  A smell of bergamot and grapefruit wafted under my nose.

  And then he was gone.

  15

  With a quick intake of breath I looked over at the horizon again. I was standing on the edge of the cliff alone.

  Behind me the small canvas foldaway chair held a drawing pad and had a large black backpack resting against it.

  Checking left and right I saw that I was still alone. I had never felt so powerful.

  My heart was beating so hard I could hear it pounding in my head. I was shaking, my legs barely able to hold me up. I needed to step away from the edge a little. With a last look I peered down over the side and there he was. The young man who had been quietly drawing near me not five minutes ago. Now he was a broken mess at the cliff bottom. Arms and legs at angles they really should not be at and his head smashed against the rocks he had fallen against.

  I backed away and kept backing up. Then turned and looked at the two separate artist areas up here. The blanket with the laptop and the seat with the drawing pad. I hadn’t considered this.

  I looked back to the edge of the cliff.

  If this had been an accident and he had fallen, then I should leave his things where they were. He would have gone for a closer look out over the edge and slipped. No need to remove his things and make him invisible. But I needed to get out of here as fast as possible.

  With shaking hands I shoved my items back into my bag and fastened it.

  I had done it.

  I hadn’t walked away as I had contemplated. I had gone through with it. My legs were like jelly but I managed to put one in front of the other if I focused on my movements.

  Back at the car I stowed away my bag in the boot and poured myself the last of the tea I’d packed in a flask. It was no longer hot but I managed to drink it quickly. I needed it to steady my nerves.

  Inputting my address in the sat-nav, I directed the car home and headed back.

  I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to feel as I drove. It was still light when I set off. I wondered if people in the other cars could see that I was guilty, like you can see when people are picking their noses. Is guilt as clear to see as a bodily function? A guilt as loud as the one mine must have been.

  It wasn’t a guilt as you’d expect me to feel. It was a guilt as in guilty or not guilty. A factual guilty. I was guilty of committing an action and I could feel that with every atom inside of me, and atoms vibrate. It was like a nervous energy. I had done it. I didn’t yet know how I felt about it, but I could feel that I had done it. I could definitely feel I had done it.

  As my body gradually began to settle it dawned on me that it was Sunday. Yes, I had known all day that it was Sunday, but I really acknowledged that it was Sunday and what that meant. On Sundays I visited Beth, she expected me without fail. I had never let her down. I texted her that I would be late and she should go to sleep if she needed, but I would pop in to see her regardless.

  It was late when I arrived outside Beth’s address. The lights were all out but for a small lamp in the living room that I could see through the front window. She didn’t like to wake in the night to complete darkness, not since she had become so immobile, as it gave her more of a feeling of helplessness. Being able to see her own surroundings when she woke gave her peace of mind.

  The long drive had done me the world of good. I was calm again.

  I unlocked her door quietly and didn’t shout out that I had arrived this time. Neither did I go straight to the kettle and make a mug of tea for us both. I knew it was likely she was asleep and I just wanted to see her and make sure she was okay and to let her know, no matter how subconsciously, that I had arrived, on a Sunday, as I always did.

  I crept through the house, silent and smooth. Dropped my jacket on the kitchen counter and moved into the living room.

  There she was, asleep in the bed, the lamp in the corner casting an amber glow into the room. Seeping into the corners, making Beth feel safe and secure.

  I stood over her. ‘Beth, I’m here, I came,’ I whispered.

  She didn’t move. Not a twitch.

  I stayed where I was and watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful. She looked like any healthy adult looked as they slept. All the anxiety and concern and grey pallor was gone, she was relaxed and serene. It wasn’t very often I saw her like this.

  Yes, she sometimes dozed when I visited, but proper sleep like this, it was rare. And she looked so beautiful. It made me love her more.

  I stayed there, standing over her for a good fifteen minutes. Quiet and watchful. Taking in each single breath she took. It made me think of how a mother must feel watching over a sleeping child and the love that envelops her.

  A tear slipped down my cheek.

  I picked up the book at the side of her bed that I sometimes read to her from and found the page we had left the bookmark at. We were reading Marian Keyes. For all she loved that I wrote and my books, she preferred a more contemporary drama rather than crime. I started to read to her quietly knowing I would have to reread the passage next time because she wouldn’t know it had already been read. I didn’t care. I loved to read to her. Yes she used audiobooks, but there was something intimate in reading to her. Sharing the experience with her.

  Before I knew it there were more tears and I was silently crying over Beth’s sleeping form. The book was back in its place and I sank into the chair and, resting my head on the bed, sobbed like a baby into the edge of the covers that kept her warm through the night.

  She did not stir.

  And when I was spent I rose, bent over and kissed her on her cheek, inhaling her beautiful warmth an
d then walked out, locked the door behind me and drove away.

  16

  Lilac was annoyed with me. She made that very clear. Dinner was late and she was not amused.

  I was drained and quickly fed her then changed for bed. The sheets were cool as I crawled between them, welcoming the comfort of the familiar. It had been a long day, with two four-hour drives as well as the event itself. I was exhausted. I had no idea where the tears I had cried over at Beth’s had come from. Maybe they were for Vivian – there was still a knot in my gut for what had happened that day when I killed her in the car on the day the little boy ran into the road.

  Maybe they were for Beth and all she would be losing. Her future, everything she ever dreamed of doing as a healthy adult. Her son. Our relationship. Friendships with other adults. A job, a career, fun and excitement.

  Maybe they were for myself and the thought of losing Beth. The woman who had been like a mother to me. I didn’t want to be alone without her. She showed me what it was to care for someone. She made me feel when the world was a cold grey place.

  My bones were weary. My head heavy and my thoughts woollen. I turned my head towards Lilac who was curled on the pillow.

  ‘Well, I did it,’ I told her. ‘What do you think of that?’

  Of course there was no response other than the usual deep throated rumble.

  ‘I didn’t think so.’ I lifted my hands over my head, lay on them and stared at the ceiling.

  ‘It’s weird, you know,’ I spoke to Lilac again. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about today.’

  I turned and looked at her again, my cheek resting against my forearm.

  ‘I mean literally. I don’t feel anything.’

  Any and all emotion had been released when I had cried with or at Beth not half an hour ago. I looked to the ceiling again. A small spider’s web was stretched from one wall to another in the corner of the room. I watched it waiting for a spider or its prey to come along but neither did.