Flowers for the Dead (19 page)

She is getting a bit worried about herself. She will walk into the flat and forget she has done things. She will be at work and discover money when she would have been willing to swear on her life that she had none. A couple of times she has bought milk or bread but has no recollection of doing so.

“Sure you’re happy with your bloke? You sound tempted – here, I hope he’s a good ‘un,” urges the electrician, interrupting her thoughts.

“Oh he’s the best, really looks after me,” Laura lies.

Andy takes it on the chin. “He’s a lucky fella.”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

As Laura shows him out he cannot resist one more try. “Hey, keep my number in case you change your mind,” he winks.

She is laughing and shaking her head as she closes the door.

***

Adam had watched the electrician laying it on with a trowel, then asking Laura out. At first he had felt sick and helpless. He had stood in shock, ready to jump into his car and plead his case. Now, though, he is delighted. All this talk of a boyfriend can only have one explanation. Laura must have seen all the things he is doing for her and realises that someone is looking after her, wooing her.

She really is perfect for Adam.

Emboldened, he decides to do even more for her. He starts by presenting her with something other than a bouquet of flowers.

CHAPTER TWENTY

~ Dragon Plant ~

Snare

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

Alibi firmly in place, there was nothing to stop Adam and his parents moving to Moseley weeks after Lisa’s death. The lion’s share of organising everything fell on Sara. Graeme was backwards and forwards between home and away, thanks to some investigation or other that was close at hand, but helped with packing as much as he could.

The couple worked side by side, grabbing items, wrapping them in newspaper or bubble wrap, then boxing them. Every now and again the grating, ripping sound of parcel tape being extended rent the air. Fast, efficient, focused, the pair made a good team, while Adam worked alone nearby.

“If I never hear this sound again it will be a day too soon,” laughed Sara, tearing off some tape and smoothing it down to make sure it was stuck firmly. “Umm, look, love, I’ve been thinking. I think all of our stuff should go into storage rather than us trying to make it go into the house. I know your mum’s house is big and could absorb it all, but you’re not going to want to make changes to the place. We’ll keep it just the way it is, just the way Ada liked it.”

As she spoke she kept packing, eyes on the bubble wrap rather than her husband. Adam appeared to do the same, but watched from the corner of his eye as he packed.

“And don’t worry about me, because I’m happy to have everything exactly as it is, because it’s important to keep her memory alive for you and, you, eh, Adam, and, well, me. You know I loved her, too. I miss her.” Her voice cracked artfully a little at the end of the sentence.

Graeme nodded gratefully and put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Yes, I really appreciate that. I can’t think about decorating and nonsense like that right now.”

“Of course not. And it will be years before you feel ready to.” She stopped rolling a vase in wrap, and put her hand over his. “It’s okay, it’s not exactly a hardship to live with Ada’s beautiful things. She had such good taste, and besides, I think it’s the right thing to do. I’ll put everything in storage and I could even sell some of the things, you know, the wardrobes and stuff. It’s not like we’ll ever need them again, it almost seems pointless putting them in storage.”

Sara picked up a wedding photo. “Would it be all right if maybe I put some photographs out though? I mean, maybe just the one,” she said quickly. “Just so that, you know, it feels a little bit like my home too… I’m sorry,” she went on before he had a chance to react. “I-I know I’m being ridiculous, I’m being selfish, I’m so sorry. I’ll just put this one photo by our bed. Will we be sleeping in your mother’s bedroom, by the way? I know it’s the biggest bedroom and had the best view, I’ve always loved that breath-taking view, but…I think it might feel a bit odd sleeping in there…”

“No,” Graeme said decisively. “No, no.”

“Oh, I’ve hurt you, I’m so, so sorry, I shouldn’t even have asked.”

“No, what I mean,” Graeme pressed, “is, yes, I do want to remember Mum and I don’t want things to change. But they have changed. Keeping the place as some kind of memorial to her won’t bring her back. You’re going to spend most of your time in the house, I’ll still be away so often, and it should be your home. I know how awkward you used to feel visiting it so I’m saying no to your plan.”

Adam stopped packing and looked blatantly at the scene in front of him.

“You need to make that place your home now, our home. So…” said Graeme.

“So…I can put some pictures up?” Sara asked.

He laughed. “Love,” he took her by both shoulders now and looked her in the eye. “Love, I’m saying you can do whatever you want to do. Okay? It’s our place now. If you want to get rid of things, get rid of things. If you want to buy new stuff, buy new stuff. Just don’t spend all my inheritance a once, eh?” He gave her a sad smile. “Us making the place our home is what Mum would have wanted.”

Sara wrapped him in a tender embrace. “You are wonderful, thinking of me at a time like this. But I’ll only do this if you are absolutely sure, darling.”

Adam’s hand slipped, the glass he was wrapping tumbled towards the floor. He managed to reach out and catch it in time. His mother had just been given carte blanche to make any changes she wanted to Ada’s house. By the time she had finished with it, it would be unrecognisable.

The move went smoothly, of course: Sara was as efficient as a drill sergeant, it was one of the things Graeme loved about her. When he went away once more, off on his adventures, she got to work on Ada’s house.

“The first thing I’m doing is getting rid of those bloody stuffed animals,” she decided. “Manky old things.”

She hired a skip and ordered Adam to fill it. “I’m not touching them, I don’t know what I might catch off them,” she announced.

Her son gazed at her, and had to stop himself from giggling because her scarlet lipstick looked like a gash across her face. Blood trickled down her chin and dyed her hair rouge, her teeth were exposed through the fleshy hole, her eyeball dangling down from its socket where he had beaten her so badly.

Or had he? He could not remember doing it. He reached out a trembling hand to touch it and his mother slapped it away. He looked at her again. She was unblemished, face back to normal.

The disappointment was palpable. Adam so wanted the mirage to be real. He wanted to be rid of that woman once and for all. He wanted to smash her duplicitous face in, and force her lies down her throat. He wanted to slash at her body and hurt her the way she had clawed at his life and torn it apart.

Instead, he picked up a stuffed platypus and carried it to the skip. While Sara was not looking he managed to sneak the bird of paradise and a snarling fox into his bedroom and slide them into his wardrobe. He wished he could save more, felt as if he was betraying Ada’s memory. But with Sara keeping hold of Lisa’s necklace, he dare do nothing more.

His only comfort was that soon everything would be his to do with as he wished. His gran had already left some money in trust for him, as well as specifying that both the
Tales of Faerie and Myth
, and
Floriography: The Language of Flowers
go to her grandson.

The majority of her assets were bequeathed to Graeme though. Sara had already nipped into the designer clothes shops in Birmingham city centre. She also spent hours flicking through glossy interior design magazines, marking pages she liked, until she had a pile of publications that resembled yellow hedgehogs they bristled with so many Post Its. In a fit of generosity she had allowed Adam to keep his office. It was, after all, only one room, and she had plenty of others to tinker with.

Watching her play lady of the manor made Adam furious. He barely slept, and when he did the dreams were becoming more vivid, and the buzzing in his head getting stronger. He saw his mother’s pulverised body every night, in glorious Technicolor.

He was mad, driven over the edge by his mother, by his delicate nature, by circumstance. But he was not stupid. He forced himself to stay in control with his exercises, with his hobbies, even with his matching clothes and neat and tidy bedroom. They helped him keep a lid on his anger so that he could think clearly. That meticulous mind, so good at seeing how to fix problems with clocks and computers, so patient at sowing seeds in his garden then waiting for them to grow, oh, so slowly, was working on the problem of his mother all the time now.

It was obvious there could only be one solution. He was going to have to kill her. But not in an explosion of anger that would get him locked up. Thanks to his father, Adam knew a fair bit about committing the perfect crime, so when he was planning, he knew he had to be meticulous. Father would be so disappointed in him if he did not do a good job of murdering Mother – he could imagine him clapping him on the back, perhaps even hugging him, like he had done at Gran’s funeral.

Time slipped by as Adam planned, but it was not wasted. For the previous two years Sara’s abuse of him had slowed, but since discovering Adam’s secret she sometimes liked to step things up again. Just to prove he was in her thrall; she got off on the power. Adam began to act differently though. She did not realise it, but he had learned so much from her, and now he was using it against her. Manipulating, seducing, keeping his enemy happy in order to keep her off guard. Part of her might have been proud had she seen what was coming. But she didn’t.

***

PRESENT

The jangle of keys in the lock then the door slamming shut makes Adam’s heart lurch painfully in his chest. Laura! But she is supposed to be at work for another couple of hours yet; it is only 1pm.

For a second he thinks about not moving. Of staying right where he is and revealing himself to her at last. He knows from her encounter with the electrician that she is aware of him, in love with him even, given that she says she has a boyfriend.

Nerves make the decision for him. He flings himself into her wardrobe before he has a chance to think properly, and as he catches his breath in the darkness he tells himself it is the right thing. After all, he is determined not to rush things this time, to get things right. Laura is the one he has been waiting for his whole life; all the other women were practise runs. They protest at the thought, squirming inside him uncomfortably, and he does his best to soothe them. But the fact is, he knows that Laura really is different. There is something more about her, and although he was in love before - the fact these women were willing to give him their souls so they could be together forever proves that love – Laura is first among equals.

Through the thin wardrobe door, he can hear Laura walking into the living room and pausing. Ah, she has found his little surprise for her. He opens the door cautiously, just a crack, just enough to peer through. He wants to see her look of delight at his gift, depicting perfection.

***

Laura stares at the bowl in the middle of her coffee table. She definitely, absolutely had not put it there. She isn’t hallucinating either, the sweet smell that fills the air confirms that.

No, the strawberries are real. They are the scariest fruit she has ever seen because they mean that either she is losing her marbles, or someone has been in her home without her knowledge.

Confused and scared, she goes into the kitchen. She does not know what to think, but she knows her legs have gone weak and wobbly. Then she sees the washing up.

She is absolutely certain she did not do it before she went out. In fact, she knows she didn’t because she can remember thinking that she could not face it and would leave it until she cooked tonight before bothering to clear up last night’s debris. Which means someone really has been here.

Maybe they are still here?

She grabs the closest thing to hand, a heavy glass vase from the windowsill, and starts going from room to room. Throwing open cupboards, looking around curtains, any hiding place she can think of, even the tiny airing cupboard in the bathroom, which is stuffed to the gunnels with towels and linen.

***

Adam listens keenly to Laura’s movements. Realises she is going through the flat, searching for an intruder. For the first time he feels out of control. He isn’t sure what to do. Should he saunter out and say “hi”? Pretend it was all a big planned surprise; take charge of the situation again? Or should he hope to goodness she doesn’t find him, and stay hidden?

There is another option. His hand edges to his back pocket, and he feels the reassuring shape of the scalpel case. He doesn’t want to do this, but if things go wrong he is prepared. He may be a romantic at heart, but ultimately he is a realist, and sometimes bad things happen even when you have the best of intentions; he knows that better than anyone.

***

Laura moves towards the only room left for her to search: the bedroom. Did…did she just hear a noise from inside the wardrobe…?