‘Yes, Father. I am tired now, I’m going straight up to bed.’
She lay on her pillow and sobbed, the carefully applied mascara and kohl leeching into the white cotton.
Kevin had got ready before the Euromillions draw. He’d put on double the aftershave he normally did, and that lunch time he’d got his hair cut. He was all ready to go far too early but that meant he could check his lottery numbers online and savour that wonderful anticipation he always had when checking, before he went to meet Nasreen. This was the highlight of his week. He owned a cat, a black cat called Charlie which was the only creature Kevin had ever really loved. Black cats brought you luck, his grandmother reckoned. ‘OK, Charlie,’ he said as the cat rubbed itself round his leg and purred, ‘it’s that time of the week. I’ll buy you a diamond collar if we win.’ For days on end he’d lulled himself to sleep thinking sublime thoughts about what he would do with a pile of money. The places he’d travel to: the Maldives, Antigua, Cuba. All those fabulous wonderland type names were here on this earth and if he won, he could savour them. He sat down in front of his computer and brought up the results checker. Charlie jumped on to his lap and nuzzled his arm. Kevin unfolded his ticket and ran his fingers down the crease. He didn’t really need to look at it. He knew his numbers off by heart. Still, he liked to have the ticket in front of him.
As he went to enter the numbers, he heard a knocking outside the window. He was on the ground floor and someone was calling at the door along the passage. There was a fit of giggles and some whispering. Kids, he thought and picked Charlie up in his arms as he stood and glanced out, annoyed that his favourite moment of the week was being compromised. Trick or treaters, he realised. Little kids done up in ghost costumes, and black T-shirts and tights, with luminous skeletons emblazoned on them. He grunted, pulled the curtains, and ignored them. Nothing was going to stop his moment.
He sat down and put Charlie back on his lap. He put his numbers in and waited.
CONGRATULATIONS, YOUR NUMBER’S UP. YOU HAVE WON THE EUROMILLIONS
Kevin blinked and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly his body went hot and cold from his feet to his head and back again. Sweat broke out and seemed to boil his skin. He checked the numbers again. And again and again. He paced the room up and down, loosened his tie, walked around in a daze for he didn’t know how long.
Had it really happened? Had the one thing his heart had desired for so, so long, finally come to pass? He must be seeing things, he must be asleep and dreaming. Suddenly he let out a celebratory whoop. It was so loud it came out like an uncontrollable burp. Then he laughed. Something Kevin didn’t often do and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls right back at him. Surely he’d made a mistake. Things like this didn’t happen to ordinary men like him. He looked at his watch. Time had raced along, if he didn’t hurry he’d be late seeing Nasreen. An overwhelming desire came over him to get someone else to check the ticket, to confirm he’d really got the winning one. He straightened his tie, grabbed the ticket and put it firmly in his pocket, and ran out of the flat. The walk to the coffee shop would have been twenty minutes. But he ran, he did it in ten.
When he rounded the corner, there was the coffee shop. At first he couldn’t see her through the window. Then he found her sitting at the back. All on her own, she looked a small, solitary, sad figure. Was this the sort of girl a Euromillions winner would have? She seemed shrunken sitting there looking oh so worried. Was this the sort of woman he wanted? One without confidence. Her clothes looked dowdy to him. Dark colours, loose, they barely showed she had any figure at all. True, her hair looked nice. But she kept rubbing her hands one over the other, like she was scared stiff. He didn’t want to go in. He should have gone in and told her it was all off, it was a mistake, he was sorry. But he didn’t have the guts.
Anyway, now, he felt the ticket crinkle in his pocket once again, just to make sure it was there. He was rich. A hot shot. A man of substance. He was going somewhere. And he didn’t want some mousy little girl coming with him. Kevin retreated, sloped back home. Tomorrow, he reasoned, he would go down the newsagent’s and apologise to Nasreen. Say something came up. Some family tragedy. Or he was ill, stricken with food poisoning. That was a good one. What if he was really ill? That thought had never occurred to him. How awful if you had massive good luck, a once-in-a-lifetime lottery win, and you were struck down with some illness and couldn’t spend it. Kevin was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realise he’d stepped into the road. A rattling truck stormed past him, beeping its horn so loud it nearly scared Kevin out of his skin. Crikey, that was close. He’d have to take more care.
As he came up to his flat, he saw clusters of kids dressed as monsters and ghouls wandering round. Kevin shivered; it was as if someone had walked over his grave. The world was so full of terror and scary things. He couldn’t wait to get back to his flat. As he searched for his keys, he half saw something out of the corner of his eye. The light had failed now, it was dark apart from the street lamps. There was the thing again. Then, a slight rustle, right near his head. A bat, a horrid, black, flapping bat. Kevin scooted inside to the safety of his flat and realised as he slammed the door behind him that his heart was thumping in his chest. It was a sign. He must be careful. Very careful.
The next day was Saturday. No work. He wanted to stay in bed. To think about his glorious win and how he would spend it. But he was feeling guilty about Nasreen. He really should go and see her. Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of bed and got dressed. He put on jeans and a T-shirt but also the suit jacket he wore to work. It had the ticket still secure in the nice deep pocket and he wanted to keep it on him. He fed Charlie and went to go out. But, as he opened his front door, he looked at the paintwork. His door was covered in some sort of horrid mess. Then he realised. The trick or treaters must have knocked while he was out, and getting no reply, had thrown an egg at his door. ‘Little buggers,’ Kevin muttered under his breath. Well, when he got his winnings and spent them on a house in a gated community he’d be safe from all that.
As he walked down the street to the newsagent’s, Kevin felt suddenly vulnerable. The sky was gathering with thick grey clouds. What if there was thunder, what if there was lightning? People had been struck with lightning and died. What if that should happen before he’d had a chance to cash in his ticket? What a travesty that would be. He hurried, wanting to get to the newsagent’s and apologise and then get back home to safety as soon as possible. But as he approached Nasreen’s shop, big blobs of rain started to drop and there was a clap of thunder so hard it shook the leaves on the trees. He was almost outside, he should have gone in and talked to her. But then he’d be stuck if it really started to pelt down. He didn’t want to get his jacket wet. What if the rain soaked through, soaked the ticket and the ink ran and he couldn’t claim his money? For a moment he stood on the pavement hesitating. He didn’t want her to see him, but there she was with her father and she looked up. He really didn’t want to go and talk to her. What would he say? Why should he say anything? It was all a great big mess and he’d better just leave it. He turned tail and walked off, her big doe eyes staring as he did so. He felt bad, but soon, he’d be a rich man and he could do what he wanted without even having to think of people’s feelings.
Nasreen was amazed when she saw Kevin. She’d spent all night wondering what she had done or said which had made him stand her up. Then, when she saw him through the window looking as if he was going to come in and tell her it was all a misunderstanding, her heart rose. To see him turn around and run away made her blood boil. In an instant, she had put on her coat and grabbed an umbrella. Her father had insisted this morning he was feeling better and wanted to get back to serving in the shop. ‘I’m just popping out, Father, I won’t be long.’
‘Where are you going?’
But she didn’t answer, she was already out of the door, and following Kevin. He’d got a good start on her but she was small and nimble. She wanted to know what he was playing at. Last ni
ght she’d been upset. Now she was cross. He owed her an explanation. He darted in and out of the wet streets as the rain battered down on the pavement, and finally came to a shabby block of flats. She hid behind a tree as she watched him let himself into a ground-floor flat. A large black cat sat at the window, but jumped down when it heard the key in the lock. Nasreen stood under the tree for some time wondering what to do. Why don’t I just go and ask him what happened? she reasoned. Ask him if he’s OK, that would be the decent thing to do, and Nasreen was a decent person. She finally plucked up the courage and knocked at his door. She stood there for some time, her feet soaking in the downpour despite her umbrella. But he didn’t respond. Surely that was the height of rudeness. She went and looked through a window. The sky was very dark and the light poor. If only she could attract his attention and give him a cheery wave, he might invite her in. But he didn’t. In fact he turned his back and disappeared into the depths of the flat. Perhaps he hadn’t seen her, but that seemed unlikely. Despondent, Nasreen headed back to the shop. How rude, how very rude.
Kevin stayed in all that day and the next. Then came Monday. He should be going to work. Then he remembered he didn’t need to any longer. He was a rich man. He should claim his winnings. He turned on the news, and there was an item to say that someone’s number had come up. Someone had won the big one. Again it gave him a thrill. He’d all but forgotten Nasreen; she was nothing to him now. She had no claim on him. He could do what he wanted. He looked up the lottery company. They had offices in the city. It would be fun to go up there and announce he’d won. They’d treat him like a king. Now that would be something to make the newspapers. He could see the headlines now. ‘Lottery winner takes in winning ticket.’ He’d always fancied being famous. They’d take him somewhere swanky to lunch, he’d meet new people. His work colleagues would see him on telly, surrounded by cameras flashing. He’d finally be someone. Quickly he showered and dressed, wearing his lucky jacket, with the ticket firmly inside.
Kevin walked slowly to the station, watching all the roads carefully so he didn’t take any chances with the traffic. Even then, he felt a bubble of anxiety in his chest. As he stood on the platform, someone brushed past him. ‘Careful,’ he snapped, ‘you could’ve pushed me over the edge.’ They looked at him oddly, as if he was a bit mad. And he realised as he put his hand to his forehead that he was dripping with sweat even though it was a chilly morning. He went to sit on a bench, his legs shaking a bit. What was happening to him? It was worry, worry about having such an important piece of paper in his pocket. Anything could happen though, anything. The train could crash, he could be mugged, it happened a lot nowadays even in broad daylight. He looked up at the indicator. The train was delayed. That was a bad omen. Suddenly, the idea of nipping up to town didn’t seem so easy. In fact it seemed fraught with danger. As he waited, a huge black crow swooped down and settled on the line. Kevin looked at it with dread. It was the worst of bad omens. A horrible, hooded thing, like a monk come to signal some sort of death knell. Then he realised that in its beak it held a lump of carrion. A dead mouse. Yuck. What did that mean? Was Kevin perhaps in mortal danger? As he stared at the bird, it bounced, swooped towards him in a threatening way, then soared up into the air.
Then the train whooshed into the station. Kevin got up to get onto the train but his limbs wouldn’t go any further. He was paralysed with fear. That train was standing over the spot where the crow had stood. It was the worst omen he had ever seen. Bad luck would come to him if he got on that train for sure. Terrified, Kevin turned, ran down the stairs, and was out of the station as if all the hounds in hell were after him.
He was safer indoors. As soon as he got in, he felt secure, like he never wanted to leave his flat ever again. In a panic, he got out the lottery ticket and held it against his beating heart. It was safe, he was safe, here, only here where nothing and nobody could get at him. He crawled into bed and Charlie came in and sat on his chest, making him feel calm once again. It seemed as if he hadn’t felt calm since he’d had his win. Here, he could lie like he used to and dream of all the faraway places he’d go when he spent all that money.
Kevin stayed in the flat for three whole days. Outside the weather was dire. There were reports on the news of flooding, and one woman was even killed in a landslide. Why would he want to go out when there were risks like that? The only problem was, he had eaten all his food. And Charlie had run out of cat munchies and would cry to be fed every time Kevin moved.
Finally, Kevin could wait no longer. He had to get something to eat. He looked out of the window with trepidation. The street was full of puddle; would it never stop raining? Last night there had been lightning too. He hated the thought of leaving his warm, dry flat but it had to be done. First though, he would need to get clean. He’d even been scared of using the shower. There had been a programme on he’d watched yesterday about accidents in the home. Apparently the home was a horrendously dangerous place to be. Gingerly, Kevin turned on the water. He never usually tested it for temperature, he just got in. But now he was a rich man, he must take more care of himself in order to spend all that lovely money. It took him ten minutes to convince himself the water was fine, he wouldn’t freeze to death, and he wouldn’t get scalded. He pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped in. It felt good to do something normal, it felt good not to be confined to bed. In the last few days, he hadn’t even answered the phone which had gone quite a few times, probably work wanting to know where he was.
He had some new shower gel sitting on the shelf above his head. Once he was soaked with water all over he reached up, but as he did so, he managed to get the jet of water right in his face. His hand hit the bottle of gel and it poured all over his forehead and into his eyes. Momentarily he was blinded, with slippery gel oozing down his body, off his legs, and into the shower tray. He stepped aside, his eyes smarting, and lost his footing. It was like one of those ridiculous cartoon moments, where his foot caught the shower curtain, twisted around, his arms flailing then he fell. Smack, his head caught the hard ceramic of the shower tray and he crashed. As he careered down, the last thought he had was of all that money, all that lovely, unspent money.
In an instant, he was flat on his back, mouth wide open. The shower though continued to spout, an endless powerful stream of hot water. Unconscious, Kevin’s mouth filled, then his throat, then his lungs until he could breathe no longer. The life drowned out of him, as he sank into oblivion.
Three days it had been and Nasreen hadn’t seen Kevin, morning or evening. The anger she had felt drained out of her. She wasn’t a vindictive person by nature and now she realised Kevin might have a problem. He’d always been a nervous sort, withdrawn, inadequate somehow, and finally, she felt sorry for him. The least she could do as perhaps his only friend was pop round to the flat and see if she could get some response. She hadn’t told her father she and Kevin had become friends, but even he had noticed that Kevin hadn’t been in and hadn’t bought his ticket. ‘That guy always, always does the same numbers, see here.’ Her father had said. ‘I keep a list of the regulars’ numbers so that I can be ready to do their tickets for them when they come in. It is like an extra service I do, it makes people come back again and again knowing they get a personal service.’
Her father was getting better now and she was a bit freer. She looked at the numbers and wrote them down before she said, ‘I’m going off to do some shopping.’
‘All right,’ her father was busily stacking shelves and waved her off.
When she got to Kevin’s flat, she was surprised to see condensation on the windows. It was chilly now it was November but not freezing. Perhaps he had the heating on really high. Perhaps he was very ill. Her knock raised no reply at all. Then, as she was trying to get a closer look, she tapped on the window and there was the large black cat. He looked very distressed, miaowing his poor little head off. Something was definitely wrong. She decided to phone the RSPCA; it looked as if Kevin had gone away and left it
.
She had to wait a good hour for them to turn up. While she waited she had another chance to think. What sort of man went away and left his cat all on its own? That was cruelty. Perhaps Kevin wasn’t the man for her after all. When the RSPCA inspector came in his van, he managed to find an unlocked window at the side which he prised open and climbed in.
He came round the front and opened the door. ‘And who are you, young lady?’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I’m a friend. A very good friend.’
‘You’d better come in then. This poor cat hasn’t been fed for days. Apart from that I think he’s OK, but the flat’s as damp as can be. Hang on, I can hear the shower going.’
When the RSPCA man came out of the shower room his face was as white as a sheet. ‘I don’t think you’d better go in there, something awful’s happened.’ He explained to her the dreadful accident that had befallen Kevin, and Nasreen’s heart dropped. So, any hope she might have had of going in like an angel and making Kevin’s life better and having him in turn save her, dissolved like mist on an autumn morning. Momentarily she felt sick. Then the RSPCA man turned to her and said. ‘This poor cat needs a home now his master’s gone. Maybe you could think of looking after him.’
The cat was sweet, good natured, and she’d always wanted an animal. She lifted it into her arms and cuddled it and it nuzzled her back. ‘Here, if you’re willing to take it, I’ve got a spare cat carrier. You can bring it back to us whenever you get the time. I’ll wait here for the police and ambulance men to take your friend’s body away. They might want a statement from you but if you give me your details I can put them in touch.’
Nasreen felt sad, but then again, she hadn’t known Kevin well, and he seemed to be a troubled man. It’s not like he was a good friend, she thought. Outside, the rain still fell, and she was worried about the cat getting cold. So, when the RSPCA man offered to put the cat in the carrier she said, ‘here, put this at the bottom of the carrier, it’ll help to make the cat feel better knowing he has his master’s jacket with him. Kevin always used to wear that jacket, he was very fond of it.’
Shiver Page 3
