Left You Dead

77

Eden passed their house and drove a couple of hundred yards up the road before pulling in and parking. This was the dangerous part. None of their immediate neighbours had any outward-facing CCTV but, even so, it was a concern. She just had to hope that no one was bothering to look out of their window at this hour on a Sunday. And if they did, they would see a woman in a hijab strolling along. Not an uncommon sight.

The time was 3.40 p.m.

She had to be out of here by 4.05 p.m., for a clear margin. Although in reality she probably had until 4.30 p.m. But, no unnecessary chances. She only had this one. A few cars passed in both directions, and a cyclist, none taking any apparent notice of her. Then she froze for a moment as she heard the banshee howl of a siren. A police car, on blues and twos, shot up the road, passed her and disappeared.

Entering the front door, kneeling briefly to give the cat, Reggie, a stroke, she pulled the checklist out of the inner pocket of her bag and began working through it. She would really miss this cat, she knew. Was there a way to bring him with her? Later, she thought, all in good time, she would figure a way to get him picked up once Niall was locked away.

First was her diamond engagement ring and her wedding ring. She placed them in a bag together with her passport and hid them beneath a loose wooden floorboard in the upstairs spare room that was his home office.

Tick.

Into the utility room to check the store cupboard. Tick.

Next, she removed the clothes she had been wearing earlier that day, a T-shirt, popsocks, shorts and trainers, putting them into a plastic bag, and changed back into her loose-fitting clothes, hijab and a spare pair of shoes. Then — and she hadn’t been looking forward to this bit — she went into the kitchen, clutching the bag, and pulled the large, serrated-edge kitchen knife from the block. She pressed it to the base of the index finger of her left hand, closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and, as she exhaled, drew it quickly across the skin, slicing deeply.

Stifling her cry at the sharp pain, she opened her eyes, pleased to see blood running from the cut. She let a couple of drops fall on the work surface and some on the floor, before ensuring some more spots went onto the T-shirt, her shorts, one of her socks and onto one of her trainers. Then she wiped the floor and work surface with a kitchen towel so that the blood would be invisible to Niall’s naked eye. But not to the equipment of any subsequent investigating CSIs, if what she’d gleaned from all the crime shows she’d seen on television was correct. She put the towel into her handbag. She then used the cloth and bleach to wipe the skirting boards in the kitchen to make them visibly clean.

Tick.

Wrapping the blood-stained knife in cling film, she put it, also, in her handbag, then went upstairs with the bag of her clothes, letting a couple of droplets of blood fall along the way, smearing each one with her right hand onto the wooden treads, and entered their en-suite bathroom. There she squeezed her finger, letting more blood fall on the tiles, once more smearing it in, so Niall wouldn’t notice.

After quickly dabbing on some antiseptic and winding a plaster round her finger, she removed the T-shirt from the bag. Then she took out the screws from a small wall-mounted grille and placed the T-shirt in the cavity. She secured the grille but deliberately left one of the small screws on the floor, ready to be found, hopefully, by police forensic experts. She glanced anxiously at her watch. Still a safe fifteen minutes to go. She put her switched-off phone in a drawer under the bed, covering it with some underwear.

Tick.

She hurried over to the window and peered down at the street. No sign of the BMW or Niall.

She looked at her checklist. All done.

A plaintiff miaowwwww made her look up. Reggie was standing in the doorway.

‘What is it, darling, you want your dinner? I’d love to give it to you, but I can’t, because your daddy will know I’ve been here. He’ll be home soon — he’ll remember.’ She knelt, scooped him up into her arms and kissed his head. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ she whispered.

Reggie’s answer was to purr contentedly.

‘You’re a nice cat, you know that?’

He continued purring.

‘Thanks for being the one good thing in my life these past years.’ She kissed him again and set him down. He looked at her, then rolled onto his back. She knelt again and tickled his tummy briefly. Then she stood and glanced around their bedroom. She looked at the framed prints of Victorian Brighton on the wall, one of the Chain Pier and one of the Daddy Long Legs train that ran above the sea, which Niall had bought her for their first Christmas here. It would be the last time she would be in this room. And it was her last chance to take anything, but she couldn’t risk that, however tempted she was to take the one piece of jewellery Niall had bought her — in happier times — that she really liked — a Cartier tennis bracelet. Of course, he loved to tell anyone and everyone he’d bought it for her, like some sort of trophy that she had to be grateful for.

But, hell, why take the risk of him noticing? And besides, all it would do is remind her of him.

When she wanted to spend the rest of her new life forgetting him.

She adjusted the hijab in the hall mirror, pulling it as low over her forehead as she could, and put her sunglasses back on. Then, clutching her handbag and Waitrose carrier bag in one hand and keys in the other, she let herself out of the front door and strode up the pavement towards her car, without once looking back.