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  ‘The problem,’ said Campbell, returning with another round of drinks, ‘is that they spend their lives cycling from rich person to rich person. They step through the door and they look at these people with their servants and their posh hallway, and then they get back on their bike.’

  ‘So, do you really hate the people you deliver to?’ I asked Astrid.

  She laughed, eyes sparkling, and began to answer, but she was interrupted by Neil, the other man at the table. ‘Basically we’re offering a service, and they’re free to use that service in any way they choose, whether it be to deliver a consignment of valuables or to fetch a hot dog for them.’

  Astrid laughed again. ‘And we’re free to say they’re stuck-up bastards with too much money.’

  ‘Valuables?’ I said.

  ‘Documents, mainly,’ she said, and winked at Neil. Could he have been another ex-boyfriend?

  And then there was Peggy. I treated her as an exercise, a bit like the homework I brought back from my Portuguese class. I found her boring and unattractive, and I wondered what she thought of me. Did she see me as the son she’d never had? Or did she even see me as a fantasy young lover? It was a grotesque thought, but not impossible. Or maybe it was a combination of the two. Mothers often flirt with their sons, although they’d be shocked if you pointed it out to them. And it’s possible that old women don’t see themselves as old. They still have the fantasy that a young man might be attracted to them, that he would see through what they’ve become to what they once were. I found it terrible to think that women like Astrid turned into women like Peggy.

  I decided that I would talk to Peggy as if she was a young woman like Astrid, not the old woman she was. I met her in the street a few times over those weeks, and usually she invited me in for tea. The third time, I accepted her offer of a glass of wine. She took a half-full bottle from the fridge. We drank it in her garden because it was warm and the evenings were becoming lighter with each passing day. I sat quite close to her, touching her sometimes as we talked, the way young people do, a hand on an arm to make a point. I saw a glitter in her eyes when I did it, a yes. The funny thing was that when I talked to Peggy pretending she was a young woman, I did better than when I talked to actual young women. It occurred to me that I should talk to young women pretending I was talking to an old woman pretending she was a young woman. Life is complicated.

  Each time, when she left me alone in her kitchen for a few minutes, I helped myself to some money. I saw it as a contribution to my other role of generous housemate, coming home with bottles of wine. The third time, on that May evening, I thought we were getting on so well, that she was so grateful for my attention, that I took a bit too much: twenty or thirty pounds. But I thought she wouldn’t mind. It was like a fee for giving her a good time.

  I liked the idea of these different lives I was leading, and all the time I felt I was gaining power. The housemates had known each other for longer than I had but I knew so much they didn’t. I had watched them. I had seen inside their rooms. I knew what Dario was doing to the house. I knew what kind of photographs Owen was taking. I knew Margaret Farrell. None of the rest of them knew her or knew I knew her. I had seen Pippa naked. She had seen me naked. That hadn’t worked out. Did it matter? When I met her afterwards, she was exactly as friendly as she had been before. There seemed nothing between us. Had it made her feel sympathy for me? Pity? Contempt? Or did she feel nothing? Certainly there had been other men since me and I doubted that they had failed where I had. I was just another name on the list, except that I wasn’t properly on it. I wondered if I should try to take another chance with her. Except that I might fail again. It was easier for women.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was weird seeing Astrid fly through the air, and in spite of everything that happened later, the sight remained vivid in my memory: the way she held her hands in front of her as she took off from her bike, as if she was about to do a racing dive into water, and then the way in which she instinctively curled her body, just as parachute jumpers are trained to do before impact. She didn’t look surprised at all; there was just a small frown on her face, as though she had been given a thorny mathematical problem to solve. Even after she hit the road, and her body twisted, her limbs splayed awkwardly and her cheek smashed into the tarmac, her expression remained oddly unflustered. It was as though she was still waiting for the thing that had already happened. For one moment, she closed her eyes and lay quite still in the middle of the road, her bike a tangled mess behind her. I could imagine what she would look like dead.

  I had been sitting on the front steps with Dario and a mate of his. It was one of those hot evenings that you know will turn into a hot night, and I had half closed my eyes. I was pretending to be in another world while I listened to Dario haggle – if you can haggle in a whisper – with the other man over the price of whatever it was he had in the plastic bag that he thought I hadn’t noticed under his jacket. I knew Astrid was coming round the corner even before I saw her. And there she was, crouching low on her saddle. And there was Peggy Farrell sitting in her parked car, probably listening to the end of some boring programme on the radio, just a few yards from where I was sitting. She caught sight of me and a curious expression crossed her face, half furtive and half beseeching. It made me feel itchy with irritation and I pretended not to see her. She swung open her door. It was a perfect hit. Astrid: like a bird in the air, like a piece of meat on the ground.

  Dario and I rushed over, Dario uttering high-pitched shrieks, but Peggy was there before us. She was apologizing away, while Astrid groaned things like ‘Fuck’ and ‘Leave me alone’. Peggy was about to say something to me, but I stared at her as if she was a stranger and her face crumpled. I bent over Astrid, who looked dazed and was going on about her bike while blood trickled down her face. I wanted to pick her up and hold her, but I knew that even when she was injured she would probably resent this or make me feel stupid and clumsy, so I simply asked her how she was. I put on my most sympathetic face, even though I quickly saw it wasn’t serious. She wouldn’t be rushed off to A and E or bed-ridden and helpless for days, just a bit sore. I knew Peggy was staring at me, waiting for me to acknowledge her, but I continued to behave as if she wasn’t there.

  Astrid raised herself, ignoring my outstretched hand, and Dario picked up the battered bike. I saw that Peggy was having difficulty getting the bent door of her car shut. She looked at me for help but I let my contempt show on my face. A red flush stained her cheeks and she looked old and foolish. I turned my back on her and put an arm very carefully round Astrid. She didn’t push me away. She leaned on me. Her hair brushed against my cheek and her blood was on my new white shirt. I could smell her sweat and her shampoo. Dario’s druggie friend walked past us and raised a hand in greeting, and Dario muttered something under his breath.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Astrid.

  ‘Nobody,’ said Dario. ‘How’s your head?’ Then he threw me a furious glance and started going on about how he and I had been sitting on the steps together when she’d had her accident. So Astrid didn’t know that Dario dealt drugs, which meant that probably no one else in the house did either.

  We stumbled towards the house, Dario with the bike, me with Astrid, both of us calling out for Miles, who appeared at the front door. To see the stricken expression on his face, you’d have thought I was carrying Astrid’s corpse. But anyway, we bundled her inside and she was swept up amid exclamations of horror, and I was left standing by the open door with the bike, feeling pissed off with everyone for taking over like that. I tried to hang the bike up on the hook but it was buckled and wouldn’t fit. Pippa came downstairs just as I was saying something about the bike needing some work on it and told me it was Astrid who needed looking after, not the bike, before waltzing off down the stairs with the others to look after the invalid, leaving me on my own. The tightness in my chest increased and I felt the familiar buzzing behind my eyes. Then I saw Peggy coming up the steps.

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nbsp; ‘David,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ I couldn’t be bothered to be polite to her. But instead of looking flustered and embarrassed, as she would normally have done, her chin went up and her expression became stubborn. ‘I need to speak to you.’

  ‘I don’t have the time,’ I said, and was about to shut the door on her, but she put a hand out and stopped it.

  ‘I said I need to talk to you.’

  From downstairs came the sound of laughter. I looked at Peggy and said, ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘The other day,’ she said. ‘In my house.’

  So she’d seen me take her money. My headache intensified. I felt oppressed and hemmed in, and I grabbed her by the arm and said, ‘Not out here. Come in.’ I pulled her through the door and steered her into Miles’s room, where we wouldn’t be heard, shutting the door behind us.

  ‘You should have asked me, if you needed money,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re going on about.’

  ‘I thought you liked my company,’ she said. ‘Stupid of me.’

  I told myself to be charming. I tried to speak, but her face, all hurt and spiteful, swam in front of me.

  ‘You’ve taken money before, haven’t you?’ She didn’t wait for an answer but went on: ‘My husband will think I’m so stupid when I tell him about it, which I’ve decided I must do. He’ll think it serves me right.’

  She was going on and on and on about it. I just wanted to shut her up, the gabby, interfering busybody. It was all her fault. Thinking I was the son she’d never had, thinking I found her attractive, thinking I wanted to sit in her dreary little kitchen making eyes at her, believing that was all I was good for and that my life was as petty and wretched as hers. What had she expected would happen? What had she hoped for? What? My grip tightened.

  There was still a red mist in front of my eyes and a roaring in my head, but at least her voice had stopped. At least she was limp and I could take my hands away from her throat and lay her on the floor where she gazed up at me, her purple face and glassy eyes, her mouth half open so I could see the fillings in her teeth. Her skirt had ridden up and I bent down to tug it back over her knees.

  I heard panting, like the sound made by a thirsty dog, and I realized it was coming from me. I was shivering, almost shaking. I sat down on Miles’s bed and made myself take deep breaths. I had to keep calm. I had to think clearly. I was in Miles’s room and at any moment he might walk in. But if I dragged Peggy’s body out into the hall any of them could come across me. I glanced around: the large cupboards. That was it, I had to put her in there until I had a chance to get rid of the body properly.

  Now that I had a plan, I felt quite strong and steady. I could feel the ache in my head receding, like wisps of fog being blown away. Other people would collapse and panic if they found themselves in a situation like this, but I could do it. I opened the cupboard door and pushed the piles of towels and sheets out of the way. I put my hands under Peggy’s armpits and started to drag her across the floor. She was heavy, as if death had climbed into her body and was squatting there. Her shoe caught on the floorboards and spun off. Her head lolled. The most difficult bit was getting her into the cupboard. I had to push her in from behind and her limbs got caught in the doorway and her skirt acted as friction, making her hard to slide. But eventually I did it. I pulled the towels and sheets over her, although even a quick glance would show there was something bulky underneath.

  As I shut the door and stood up, the sound of voices and footsteps outside the room made me freeze. But they continued up the next flight of stairs. I waited until I was sure no one was there, then opened the door and slipped out. As soon as I had left, though, I had the feeling I’d forgotten something. Had I put the shoe that had fallen off her foot in with the body? I was almost sure I had but had to fight the temptation to go back in to check. Had I shut the door properly, or would it swing open to reveal the body? Was there anything on me to give me away? I glanced down at my white shirt. There were streaks of oil from the bike. I stood in front of the mirror in the hall. I was impressed by how normal I seemed. I looked good. Fresh-faced and clear-eyed, relaxed. I smiled at myself and went up the stairs to my room. As I passed the bathroom, I could hear taps running and guessed Astrid must be taking a bath. I had a few minutes before I needed to face anyone.

  I changed my shirt and splashed aftershave on my face. I took a few deep breaths. There. I thought of Peggy’s body in Miles’s bedroom. Miles, who was nervous about dope being smoked on the premises. It was almost funny. Not almost. It was funny. Of course, Miles would only have to open the cupboard and everything would be ruined. But he used it for general storage. I was probably safe for a bit. As soon as possible I had to find a way of getting the body out of the cupboard and out of the house. This was the evening for our long-planned meeting, so I would have to do it somehow while everyone was here. But maybe that was a good thing.

  I went up to visit Astrid. There were several people in the room, and I pushed the door and slid quietly in. She was lying down in jogging pants and a T-shirt and Dario was sitting at the bottom of her bed. Mick stood by the window. Pippa was yelling something from the bathroom. There was a party atmosphere, which increased when Miles joined us, sitting by Astrid’s side, his hand not quite touching hers, and Dario lit up a giant spliff.

  ‘It was all in slow motion,’ said Astrid.

  ‘You must have fallen in a really natural way,’ I said. ‘That’s why you didn’t get seriously injured. It’s the way they train paratroopers. But you did it naturally.’

  Dario took a huge drag of his joint and I watched as the column of ash grew, then crumbled on to the floor, where he put his foot on top of it, grinding it surreptitiously into the carpet.

  They were all talking. Mick sat on the bed to examine her. Pippa came in with a bottle of disinfectant. I heard myself saying things. But all the time I was thinking. I felt alert, powerful.

  ‘I’ll open some wine,’ I said. ‘We should celebrate being together for once.’ I smiled at them all, thinking how amazing, how glorious it was that I had killed someone and hidden her body in the cupboard downstairs and none of them had the slightest idea that anything was wrong. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that I’m living here with you all.’

  Astrid smiled up at me from the bed, her big, dark eyes glowing. ‘Davy,’ she said, ‘you’re the perfect housemate.’

  I gave a little bow. ‘That’s me,’ I said.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The evening was like a dream. I was there and I wasn’t there. Surely they could see the difference in me, the glow in my eyes, the consciousness of power, the knowledge. But I realized they couldn’t, and that increased my sense of control. When Owen arrived with the food, I saw his shock at Astrid’s appearance, but all he said was ‘You get into a fight?’

  He walked across to her, too close. She made an effort to seem casual about it. I went and sat beside her.

  ‘She’s being brave,’ I said, then felt embarrassed. Did it look as if I was competing with Owen for her attention? I had to be careful. In all my excitement, the blood rushing through my body, I was in danger of overplaying this. I had to calm down. Fortunately nobody seemed to notice. Astrid was still the centre of attention. When I started concentrating again, they were dealing out the food and comparing themselves to the Seven Dwarfs. It made me feel angry. I was forgotten as they jokingly and affectionately allocated different dwarfs to Pippa and Mick and Dario and Miles. It reminded me of those times in the playground when they had picked teams and what it felt like to be left until last, the one nobody wanted. So I made a joke about it and took Bashful for myself, the one nobody would want to be. Bashful. What did they know?

  I pushed forkfuls of food into my mouth, not tasting it. I let the conversation wash over me. Sometimes I managed a sentence. I smiled at things that were meant to be jokes. I even smiled at Pippa and she smiled back. I looked around the table. These were friends, but how
many of them really liked each other? I noticed that Astrid wasn’t speaking or eating. I looked at Miles, who had a sudden businesslike expression on his face.

  ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I hate to break into this, but it’s very rare that we’re all together like this. Just the seven of us. Don’t you dare start again, Dario.’

  Suddenly it all became clear to me. That was how to do it.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘It is rare. Why don’t we have a group photo to mark it?’

  Miles nodded. ‘We even have an official photographer,’ he said.

  Fuck, I thought. I’d forgotten about Owen. But I’d also forgotten his arrogance. He prattled about not taking snaps and Astrid teased him about being an artist.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ I said.

  ‘My camera’s in the drawer over there,’ said Miles.

  Was God deliberately tormenting me? I jumped up and opened the drawer. Miles’s digital camera was lying on top. I covered it with the stuff in the drawer, the brochures, menus and catalogues. ‘It’s not here. You must have moved it.’

  ‘Someone’s nabbed it, more like, and forgotten to put it back.’

  ‘I’ve got one upstairs,’ I said, and ran out before anything else could go wrong.

  It was all so simple. I couldn’t even allow myself to think of the possibility of being caught. I opened the cupboard door, pulled off the coverings and saw the empty eyes staring up at me. I felt nothing. I knelt down, took her arm, pulled her over my shoulder and raised myself slowly, the joints in my knees cracking. I kicked the cupboard door shut, then turned to check there was nothing stupid like a hat or a handbag to ruin my perfect crime. As I moved out into the hallway I even smiled at the idea of one of the housemates catching me like this. I walked smoothly upstairs, to the first floor, then the second. I pulled out the bed a little way and laid her down behind it so that she was invisible from the doorway. That was enough. Nobody would come into my room tonight.