The Doll's House

132

Ben walked towards the WestQuay with a spring in his step. After all the recent trouble, things were shaping up nicely. Summer seemed her usual trusting self and as for Ruby, well… she wouldn’t be a problem for much longer. She believed she was going to be released, which would buy him a day or so before the shouting and moaning started. When would she realize that she had been abandoned? And how would she react? The first one had resisted for nearly two weeks, banging at the door, screaming and shouting. And the third one was just as bad. The second one was less bright and had given up more quickly, which was much less fun. He liked it when they ranted and raved and begged. He couldn’t hear them upstairs of course, so he had to descend into the basement when he wanted to listen to them. As soon as they heard his footsteps approaching, they started up with the pleading. He would never open the door, though sometimes he teased them, slipping the key into the lock before removing it again. The thought still made Ben smile.

Of course, this time the disposal would be more complicated. Carsholt beach had been perfect for him in its wild isolation – but events had forced the change. He had already made the decision to bury Ruby in the New Forest. If he took her there in the dead of night, he would be unmolested and he had to admit there was a pleasing symmetry about burying her where he had first burned her clothes. The vegetation was so thick round there, the chance of anyone stumbling upon the burial site was remote.

Ben was so wrapped up in his thoughts that only now did he realize that he had walked straight past his shop and all the way to the end of the arcade. Shaking his head, he turned and began to head back towards WestKeys. He was already late opening – he didn’t want to arouse anyone’s suspicions by…

Suddenly he ground to a halt. Instinctively, he turned to look in the shoe shop window next to him. Sweat was already breaking out on his forehead and he was surprised to see his hands were shaking. Was he over-reacting? Seeing things that weren’t there? He walked into the shoe shop to gather himself and, turning, looked through the shop window back into the concourse. The young black man in the shirt and jacket was sitting at the café opposite WestKeys, but his attention was definitely directed towards the shop, rather than towards the newspaper that sat uselessly on the table in front of him.

Directing his gaze upwards, Ben spotted another one. A young woman on the upper concourse. She seemed to be texting, yet her gaze kept straying to the WestKeys frontage. Ben was out of the shoe shop now, walking steadily but quickly past his shop. En route, he saw one more – a young man, sitting by the water feature, looking at his watch, as if waiting for someone.

Ben knew exactly who he was waiting for and wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Hurrying towards the emergency exit, he burst into the stairwell and ran towards the exit.