Skin

69

Ten minutes to midnight. Ten minutes to go. Flea slammed on the brakes and came to a halt in the dark street. She switched off the engine and eyed Mandy and Thom’s house. It was dark. The curtains were closed. Just the porch light on.

She went fast up the path and banged on the door. Mandy was in her nightdress when she answered. Her naked calves were white and veined, her eyes puffy without makeup. Her hair stuck out in all directions. She stood in the doorway with her arms folded against her chest, shivering in the cold night, squinting at Flea.

‘I’ve got her in the car, Mandy. She’s in the boot.’

‘Who’s in the car? Who’ve you got?’

‘You can relax. No recording equipment.’

Mandy gave her a puzzled look. ‘What equipment?’

Flea sighed, went back to the car and opened the boot. The body was covered with a blanket, a few flattened cardboard boxes crammed around it. Already water was soaking into the cardboard. She raised her eyes to Mandy. ‘Have a look.’

Mandy came a few paces down the path in her bare feet and stared at the shape in the boot. In the orangy sodium street-light her expression was blank. Almost a minute passed. Then something vital in her face – something structural – seemed to slip. She glanced up at the neighbours’ windows. Swallowed. ‘Close it, please.’

Flea slammed the boot and came back to the gate. She took a breath and looked up at the sky. Clouds again. Always clouds. ‘I’ve come to tell you you’ve got what you wanted. You’ve won.’

‘Won what?’

‘I’m going to take care of the problem.’

There was a pause. Mandy glanced out at the street to make sure no one was there, then looked back at Flea. ‘Good. That’s good.’

‘Is Thom there?’

‘He’s asleep. It’s been hard on him. I don’t want to wake him up.’

Flea stared at Mandy. ‘Tell me something.’

‘Do I have to?’

‘The truth, please. The truth. It’s all I’m going to ask of you, and then I’ll be gone.’

‘What?’

‘Thom. Did he put you up to this? Or was it your idea?’

Mandy’s eyes glittered. She shot the car boot a glance. She was shivering now.

‘Well? Was it your idea or his?’

‘For everyone’s sake.’ Her voice was quiet. Almost inaudible. ‘It’s better you never know the answer to that question.’

And she went back up the path and closed the door, leaving Flea in the empty street, lonely and cold under the lamppost.