Until it's Over Page 28

  At dawn, I washed and shaved carefully. I went downstairs and made myself a piece of toast, but after one bite I threw it in the bin. No more food and no more sleep until this thing was done. Usually Astrid was the first up, and so it was this morning.

  ‘Coffee?’ I asked her, as she came into the kitchen. Her dark hair was still damp from her shower, but she was already dressed for work in her shorts and singlet. Her face glowed, clean of any makeup, and her long legs were tanned. I could see the muscles in her calves. My eyes burned just to look at her. My cheeks already stung with the tears I would cry, when it was done.

  ‘Thanks, Davy. You’re up early.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘Me neither. At least it’s Friday.’ She went over and pushed open the door leading into the garden. ‘It’s going to be a lovely day.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Sure. Look at the way the mist’s burning off the grass. This is the best time of year.’

  I could tell she was making an effort to be cheerful after the calamity of yesterday evening, but I gave her a chance anyway. ‘I’m so sorry about what happened last night, Astrid.’ She shrugged, but I kept on: ‘If you want to know, I think Owen was an idiot and -’

  ‘But I don’t want to know,’ she said firmly, coolly.

  There. Her last chance was gone. She didn’t realize what she had done. My cheeks flushed.

  ‘Toast?’ I managed to say.

  ‘I’ll grab something later. Have a good day.’

  ‘Right. Um, you too, Astrid. Take care on that bike of yours.’

  ‘I don’t have a bike any more,’ she said. ‘Remember?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Borrow Campbell ’s. Again.’

  ‘I’m going to do some shopping and then I’m seeing Mel,’ I said. ‘Do you need anything?’

  She laughed and shook her head. ‘Sorry if I snapped just then.’ She smiled at me sweetly, and then she was gone, striding out of the kitchen and taking the stairs two at a time. I heard her opening the door, then closing it behind her.

  I stayed where I was. I saw Miles leave, without even his usual cup of tea. I made coffee for Pippa when she emerged, dainty and demure. Leah strode into the room, all business and briskness: dark brown wrap dress, discreet eyeshadow, slim briefcase, generally contemptuous.

  ‘Good morning,’ I said.

  She paid no attention.

  ‘Coffee? No milk, right?’

  She started slicing an apple into a bowl, then added a handful of bran and a spoonful of yoghurt.

  ‘Healthy,’ I said.

  She didn’t reply.

  ‘Busy day at the office today, then, Leah?’

  ‘Very,’ she said, despatching the sawdusty mess into her mouth.

  ‘There all day?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you all right about yesterday?’

  She stopped and looked at me. ‘How could I possibly be?’

  ‘Right,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t get me started,’ she said, standing up and rinsing her bowl in the sink. ‘I’ll be off, then.’

  ‘See you later.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  And she was gone too.

  I went back upstairs. Dario and Mick were still in bed, but I could hear Owen moving around in his room – which was probably lucky for him, because, in my mood, I could have changed my mind and chosen him instead, to pay him back for getting his grubby hands on my Astrid. I put on my gloves and rummaged in the back of my underwear drawer for the little tissue parcel of Ingrid de Soto ’s earring. I took out the paperweight and Ingrid’s invitation, and pulled Peggy Farrell’s dainty watch and necklace from a balled-up pair of black socks in the same drawer. So much information. All these carrots that I was dangling in front of their stupid noses. I polished them with a tissue, wiping them clean. I went down the stairs as silently as possible and entered Miles’s room, closing the door behind me. I shook the earring into a matchbox with only a few matches in it and put it on his mantelpiece; pushed Peggy’s stuff into a pair of his socks instead. Nice symmetry, I thought. I put the paperweight inside one of his shoes. I heard Owen coming down the stairs towards the kitchen and stayed still for a moment. By the bed was a black notebook. I knew it was Miles’s address book because I had copied Leah’s address out of it days earlier. I tucked Ingrid de Soto ’s invitation into it, like a bookmark. Was it too blatant? When I was confident that nobody was around, I returned to my room to collect my jacket, checking to make sure that Leah’s key was in the pocket. Time to go.

  Leah’s house was already up for sale. To my irritation, the nearest public phone box wasn’t working, so I had to walk for about ten minutes to find another one. I called Campbell at his office and when he answered, said, ‘Hello, is this the messenger service?’

  ‘That’s right. How can we help?’

  ‘I looked you up in the Yellow Pages. I want a parcel collected, please. As quickly as possible.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  I gave him Leah’s address.

  ‘And where’s it going to?’

  ‘Holborn,’ I said, feeling the cogs in my brain spinning.

  ‘House or flat?’

  ‘House. There’s a bell. But I have a request to make. I won’t be there, I’ve got to leave at once, but my wife will be in. Now I hope you don’t think this is odd, but she hasn’t been well, and I think she’d feel much safer if you could send a female messenger. Would that be possible?’

  Campbell was clearly irritated by this and tried to insist it didn’t matter but I played the part of the neurotically concerned husband, and I was the customer and the customer is always right, and Campbell finally admitted that, yes, he did have a female messenger and, yes, he would send her. My wife would have to wait a bit longer. That would be fine, I said, fine. My wife had nothing else to do.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Leah lived in a terraced house in Kentish Town. It was smaller than the house in Maitland Road but it still looked too big for one person. As I let myself in, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. Could there be lodgers? House guests? But I knew there weren’t. She’d talked about living alone. Miles had talked about her rattling around in her huge empty mansion. How could she afford it? Where did these people get their money from? Rich parents, probably. It didn’t matter. I had other things to think about.

  I looked around her hallway. I needed to find something heavy. Astrid wasn’t like Ingrid de Soto. She was tall and strong, stronger than me, probably. But a blow from a heavy object would take anyone down.

  Leah was in the process of moving out. Paintings had been taken down and were leaning on the walls ready to be hung in Maitland Road. I walked through to the kitchen at the back of house. There was a small patio behind. I pulled open a couple of drawers and found a breadknife. That would do for afterwards. But I couldn’t find the right heavy object. I walked back and into the living room. A rug was rolled up. On a coffee-table there was a piece of lined paper headed ‘To Do’, followed by a list of items, each one neatly ticked off. Bloody Leah.

  On the mantelpiece I found what I was looking for. There was a small symbolic-looking sculpture, a rock with a hole in it and in the hole was a bronze figurine. I weighed it in my palm, felt its cool, rough mass. It was perfect.

  I returned to the hallway and sat on the stairs. I placed the breadknife on the step and balanced the sculpture in my hands, moving it from one to the other, and waited. I could feel my heart beating fast, I could feel it in my chest and arms and legs and throbbing through my ears. All it would take was this one decisive act, the removal of the person who could betray me, and I’d be free.

  I had little sense of time passing, but it felt quicker than I’d expected when I heard footsteps outside and saw an outline through the frosted glass of the front door. I stepped forward, holding the sculpture in my right hand. There would be a ring at the door, I’d open it with my left hand from behi
nd the door so Astrid wouldn’t see me, she’d step inside, push the door shut, a single blow.

  But the bell didn’t ring. I heard some fumbling and then there was the rattle of a key in the lock. I froze. I was unable to think or move. The door opened and Leah stepped inside. She shut the door, turned, saw me, and gave a start that was almost comic. Her eyes widened.

  ‘Davy?’ she said. ‘What…?’

  She couldn’t even think of an adequate question to ask.

  I started to babble. ‘I found your keys,’ I said. ‘I brought them back.’

  Even as I spoke, I knew it made no sense, that it wouldn’t stand up to more than a moment’s consideration.

  Leah spoke to me like someone in a dream. ‘I’ve a spare key,’ she said, as if she needed to explain. ‘But what are you doing here? Why the…?’

  And then she saw the sculpture and she never finished the sentence. I brought it round with the force of all my anger, at Leah, a bit, for coming here and ruining everything, but also at life, at the world, for being so messy and complicated. The granite caught her on the side of the temple, full on, with a crunch. Her knees gave way and she fell down sideways, scraping against the wall as she did so. She lay on the ground, her legs flapping noisily. It seemed like a mercy to bend down and hold her throat with my gloved hands to make it stop and go away. I reached for the breadknife and marked her face, as I’d planned to do to Astrid. It was the first time I’d seen how pretty she was.

  At that moment, of all moments, I started thinking in the funniest way. My mind was both clear and unclear. I saw myself, as if from above, standing over this dead woman with bubbling red incisions on her face. People would think of the person who had done this as a madman who killed women and mutilated them. A psychopath. But it wasn’t really like that. That’s not who I am.

  I couldn’t work out what was best to do. Should I wait for Astrid and go through with my plan? I considered the knife. No. I laid it down carefully. I looked around. Was there anything I needed to take away with me? Had I brought anything? I couldn’t remember. Was it better to take the knife or leave it? I picked it up again. I ran to the kitchen and rinsed it under the tap. I ripped off a few sheets of kitchen roll and wrapped them round the blade. I put the bundle into a plastic shopping bag and rolled it up. Was there anything I was forgetting?

  A dim fragment of my plan came back into my mind. Melanie. For my alibi. I needed an alibi, especially now. I stared blindly about me, my mind churning uselessly, and then I saw on the hall table a shallow, dark-blue cardboard box lined with pink tissue paper. Leah had been buying herself expensive lingerie. I snatched up the box and held it against my chest, taking a last look at Leah, who was staring at me glassily. Was I imagining it, or was there a contemptuous curl on her lips? I kicked at her, then went through the front door and outside. Astrid could arrive at any moment, but I had no thought now of staying to watch her. I had to get away. Was there blood on my clothes? I made myself look. Not that I could see. Just leave. Slowly. Walk, don’t run.

  I pushed the door shut but it wouldn’t close. Something was resting against it, blocking it. Leah, of course. I wasn’t good at this any more.

  My forehead prickled with sweat and I felt dizzy and slightly sick, so I when I got to Regent’s Park I stopped for a few minutes and sat on a bench just inside the gates. A busload of small schoolchildren swarmed by, chattering excitedly. Presumably they were on the way to the zoo. I stared at them as they passed, holding hands with each other, swinging their plastic lunchboxes. I felt tears stinging my eyes. It was all right for them.

  I made myself revisit what had just happened. Had I left anything incriminating behind? No, I didn’t think so. Could I have done anything else? No. It wasn’t my fault Leah had come home. She had said she was going to work, hadn’t she? I couldn’t have known she’d change her mind like that. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I could feel the beginnings of a migraine stirring. That was all I needed. First, having to kill Leah like that, and now a bloody headache that would prevent me protecting myself properly. I pulled myself up from the bench, squinting against the sunlight, which jabbed into me, and made it across the road to a pharmacy where I bought some tablets and a bottle of water. I washed down three pills with several gulps of water, then splashed more water over my face. I tried to breathe calmly while I waited for the pain to recede. I didn’t have much time.

  It didn’t take me long to get to Melanie’s gallery. Laura was there with a middle-aged man whose popping eyes made him look as if he was being strangled by the ridiculous cravat tied round his neck.

  ‘Davy?’ Laura looked at me with barely concealed displeasure. She was wearing a shirt with ruffles and a skirt with a large bow tied at the waist – like a parcel done up for Christmas.

  ‘Hello, Laura.’ I tried to smile at her, felt my lips dragging back over my teeth. My head was pounding viciously. ‘Is Mel here?’

  ‘She’s in the back room. She’s quite busy, as a matter of -’

  ‘Thanks. I know the way.’

  I pushed past them both and into the back, where Mel was sitting in front of the computer. She was frowning slightly and her lips were pursed, but when she saw me she jumped up hastily, pushing her hands through her hair and smiling anxiously. ‘I wasn’t expecting…’

  ‘Sssh,’ I said. I laid the box on the small table, walked up to her, put my arms round her and kissed her full on the lips. I was definitely feeling sick now. Sick, clammy and feverish. I kept my eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder. ‘I’ve been thinking of you,’ I said, when I let her go.

  ‘Oh, Davy!’ She stared at me, biting her lip and putting up a hand to brush my hair from my forehead. I forced myself not to flinch. ‘I’ve been worrying about you.’

  ‘No need. See? Instead of going to work this morning, like I should have done, I went shopping. Take a look.’ I handed her the box.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Lolita’s?’ she said. ‘You’ve bought me something from there? Why, it must have cost you a fortune.’

  ‘You’re worth it,’ I said.

  She lifted the lid, gave a little gasp, and drew out a lacy black négligée. Definitely not her style.

  ‘Why, it’s -’

  ‘Do you like it? Hang on. You don’t want to know the price!’ I leaned forward, snatched the receipt out of the box and crumpled it in my hand. I was definitely slipping. She could have looked at it and seen it wasn’t bought today, after all.

  ‘Like it? Nobody’s ever given me anything like this before.’

  ‘I should hope not. You’re my girl.’

  She threw her arms round me once more, but I disengaged myself. ‘I should go,’ I said. ‘I’ll be in trouble at work as it is.’

  ‘You mean, you’ve just come to give me this and now you’re going all the way back?’

  ‘I wanted to see you,’ I said. ‘Shall we meet later?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said exultantly. ‘Yes. Thank you, Davy. I’m bowled over, honestly. I can’t believe it. And just when I was thinking you’d gone off me.’

  I left the gallery. One more thing. I passed several shops, then entered a pâtisserie I had noticed earlier. There were fruit cakes, birthday cakes, cakes with teddy bears and cartoon characters. All the sugar and bright colours made me feel nauseous. I chose a chocolate cake, heavy and rich and thick with shavings of chocolate on top; chocolate with added chocolate. Just the thing for a celebration.

  Chapter Forty

  When I arrived home, Miles was there, which was definitive proof that there was a God. Or definitive proof that there wasn’t a God. One of the two. He was sitting in the kitchen writing urgently on a scrap of paper. He looked up absently. ‘Hi, Davy,’ he said.

  ‘I thought you and Leah were at work,’ I said.

  ‘I changed my mind. And she had to fetch something from her place,’ he said. ‘I think she was going to her office after that, though.’

  Even better. He knew she was going home and nobody else did. The cardb
oard box containing the cake was fastened with golden ribbon that curled at the end. The knot was too tight to unravel, so I cut it with kitchen scissors. I placed the cake on a plate. Miles pulled a face. ‘What the hell’s that?’

  ‘I saw it in a shop window,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t resist it. People might like it with their coffee. You want some coffee?’

  ‘If you’re making it.’

  I filled the kettle and switched it on. I had brought the knife with me and now I unwrapped it, then placed it next to the cake. I saw it was still marked with Leah’s blood. I tore off two sheets of kitchen roll. With one I held the handle and with the other I wiped it so that most of the dark stain was removed, but not all. I took the packet of ground coffee from the fridge and spooned it into the cafetière. When the coffee was made, I took two mugs to the table and sat opposite Miles. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘There’s all sorts of stuff to sort out with the house,’ he said. He gulped at the coffee. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Where’s Mick?’ I asked.

  ‘I haven’t seen him,’ said Miles.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be anybody around,’ I said.

  I needed to know if Miles had seen anybody who could give him a solid alibi. ‘I think I heard Dario upstairs,’ he said. ‘Everybody else is out.’

  He carried on writing, columns of figures, then he sighed and drew a line through them.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you,’ I said.

  ‘No, it’s not that,’ he said. ‘It’s the money. Maybe you can sort it out between yourselves.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be getting much,’ I said.

  Miles gave an unhappy shrug. He got up and walked round the kitchen. ‘It wasn’t meant to happen this way,’ he said, ‘but I don’t know how to stop it. Everything I do seems to make it worse.’