Splinter

50

‘At last! Thank God!’

A professional boxer’s well-aimed punch couldn’t have hit him harder. It was Sandra’s voice that answered after the second ring, no doubt about it. A trifle sad, a trifle hesitant, but as unmistakable as a genetic fingerprint.

‘You’ve called me at last.’

He had missed that slightly husky quality, which always sounded a little lethargic and was at its sexiest just after she’d woken up, as sorely as he had her touch, the lip-smacking noises she made when she was dreaming, and her laugh, which had never failed to infect him however low he was feeling.

‘Sandra,’ he said, torn between tears and laughter, ‘where are you?’

For one moment, brief but long enough to bring more tears to his eyes, the whole crazy business was forgotten.

The accident. Her reappearance. The tramp. The attorney still begging for water behind him.

His joy at hearing her voice again was simply overwhelming. All that surpassed it was his disappointment when he realized it was a recording.

‘I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’ Marc bellowed the words as if he could browbeat the answerphone into an explanation if only he yelled loud enough.

‘I’ll explain everything later. Soon, very soon. Just be patient for another few hours.’

Another few hours? What happens then?

He thought involuntarily of the hand-stitched pillow on the baby’s cot. Of the date on the pillow case: November 13th.

Today, ten days before the gynaecologist’s earliest estimate of their child’s date of birth.

‘Don’t worry, darling, all will be made clear.’

Don’t worry? I’m losing my mind!

‘One more thing: if you’re still down in the cellar, leave now. Get out of there at once.’

He felt a cold draught on the back of his neck. The candle almost went out, it was so strong, but the wick flared up again just in time.

‘You forgot something, you see.’

‘What?’ he asked the machine.

‘Robert von Anselm.’

A dark figure loomed up behind him.

‘You didn’t check his handcuffs.’

Marc swung round, dropping the phone and shielding his head with his hands, but it was too late. A fierce stab of pain, and he went plummeting down into a dark void. The candle went out before it even hit the floor.