Dead of Winter

Chapter 73

Martingale turned back from the window and looked at the clock. He took a deep breath and switched up the volume on the music. He closed his eyes and listened to the girl’s beautiful voice that filled his senses. This was ultimate perfection. Martingale looked at the clock again. . he texted Nikki.

I can’t go with you, I’m sorry, my darling. Go straight to the plane. Run, my darling. I will be with you. Always. Run. .

He took a few deep breaths; he was calm now; his heart was racing but all around him he had gained a clarity; his life in high definition, 3D. The orchids filled his senses with memories of perfection.

He walked out through the kitchen and trailed his fingertips along the flowers that hung down from the ceiling or grew up from the floor. They bent a little to his touch and then sprang back, resilient. . survivors. . Martingale reached into the cupboard where he stored his gardening tools and took out the fuel he used to start up the bonfires. He took the bottle and the box of matches back to the living room and poured a third of the contents over the armchair before sitting in it and pouring the rest over his head, then he switched the music up as loud as it would go and he lit the match.