No Longer Safe (10 page)

‘You sure?’

‘I thought you might want to go out for a drink again. I was
going to offer to drop you at the pub, anyway,’ she said.

‘What about the kid?’

‘I can keep an eye on her,’ I interjected.

‘It’s fine, Alice. Mel’s restless – a ride in the car might
lull her to sleep. It always used to when she was tiny and it did the trick on
the way back from the hospital.’

‘Ah, brilliant,’ said Mark. ‘The Bull’s not far.’

‘You going to join them at the pub?’ Karen asked me.

I heard Mark utter a barely perceptible groan, before wiping
his hand over his mouth, pretending it was a burp.

‘No – it’s okay. I’ll stay here,’ I said. No way was I going
to be the gooseberry. ‘Got a bit of a headache.’

As if on cue, a loud wailing came through the baby monitor
beside us. Karen shrugged. ‘I’ll get her ready.’

Jodie came down the stairs and dumped a rucksack by the
front door. ‘Mark’s always got itchy feet,’ she said apologetically.

I wasn’t sorry they were going; it would be a relief to wave
goodbye to the squabbling and backhanded remarks for a while – not to mention
the racket from the top floor.

Karen came down with Melanie shortly afterwards. ‘Right,’
she said. ‘Keys, torch, cell phone.’ She patted her pockets. I’d noticed a
couple of times before that she’d used American words: eggplant instead of
aubergine, cookie for biscuit. She didn’t have an accent, but the time she’d
spent in LA had rubbed off on her, nevertheless. ‘We’ll see you later. Don’t
wait up if you’re tired.’

I opened the door and they all set off into the night.

I’d been sitting in front of the fire reading a
book and must have dozed off. It was the clink of glasses that woke me. Karen
was above me holding one inches from my face, half-full with red wine.

‘A final nightcap,’ she said, handing it over. She sat in
the rocking chair sliding her feet beneath her. ‘I’ve just put Mel to bed –
she’s fast asleep.’ She crossed her fingers and we both stared at the silent
baby monitor.

I lifted the glass. ‘Thanks – I shouldn’t really.’ I was
aware that my head had been throbbing on and off since lunchtime and I’d taken
several doses of painkillers. I discretely touched the spot above my temple
where I’d whacked it under the sink; it was tender and felt like the top of a
hard-boiled egg.

‘Come on. It’s your birthday,’ she said leaning over to tap her
glass against mine.

I took a long sip. ‘Here’s to you and Mel and your new life
back together again.’

Karen looked down and smiled, but it didn’t light up her
face. ‘It’s going to be tougher than I thought,’ she said.

I cleared my throat, thinking back to a few hours before. It
seemed only right to mention it.

‘Karen? You know when you asked me to get Mel’s dummy
earlier?’ she waited for me to go on. ‘Well, I found Mark snooping about in
your room.’

She straightened up. ‘Really? What was he doing?’

‘I’m not sure. Looking in your suitcase.’ I said. ‘I’ll show
you.’ She frowned as I led the way upstairs.

Inside her room, I stood where Mark had been, with his feet
touching her opened suitcase on the floor. Karen quietly rifled through the
baby clothes inside.

‘I don’t think anything’s missing,’ she whispered not
wanting to wake Mel.

She ushered me out onto the landing. ‘What would he want?’ I
asked.

‘Perhaps he came in to borrow a hot-water bottle…’

‘There’s something else,’ I said. ‘You know when you asked
me to go into their room yesterday and get the towel?’ She stood with her arms
folded, her head on one side. ‘There was a bag on the top shelf and it fell
out…and some of the contents sort of spilled out…and I found about ten thousand
pounds in cash…’

She did a double-take. ‘You what?’

We went up another flight. I flipped the light on in their
room and opened the cupboard in the corner. Karen looked awkward, holding back
on the threshold. The bag was sitting on the towels as it had been before. I
lifted it down.

I should have known straight away; it was lighter. I put it
on the bed and unzipped it, rummaging through the cans of deodorant and CDs.

‘It’s gone,’ I said.

Karen sank down onto the bed. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Definitely, absolutely,’ I said. ‘Batches of fifty-pound
notes.’ I looked more carefully at the contents this time and pulled out an
aerosol. ‘Look – it’s shaving foam.’ There was a packet of razor blades and a
pair of dirty men’s socks. ‘The bag must be Mark’s.’

‘Bloody hell,’ she said, inhaling the words.

‘I know…’

Our faces were mirrors of each other as we chewed our bottom
lips in unison.

‘Why would he need that amount of money on him?’ I said.

‘Who knows?’ she whispered.

She ushered me out and closed the door. ‘Maybe he’s buying a
car,’ she added, without conviction.

‘Yeah – maybe…’ I said, wanting it to be that simple.

I woke far too early, with one of those jolts that
shook me instantly from deep sleep to super-alert, as though someone beside my pillow
had called my name.

I slid the curtain to one side, not sure what to expect.
There had been no further snow, but what had already fallen looked solid, like
immovable blocks of ice. I picked at the frozen condensation inside the window,
staring distractedly into space and reached down to switch on the heater.

Then I saw him. Lying, face down on the floor. His left arm
was squashed underneath him, his right splayed out to the side. He was wearing
a brown leather bomber jacket and his jeans were hanging low, the waistband
lying across his buttocks. The skin on his back was meringue white. He looked
like a half-dressed mannequin. It looked like Mark.

I made a whimpering sound, my hands over my face, staring at
him, not knowing what to do. One leg was hitched up like he was trying to drag
himself across the carpet. Except he was perfectly still. I stood on the spot
waiting for him to move – then I rushed out of the room and hammered on Karen’s
door.

She opened the door a fraction, her eyes screwed up. ‘Hush –
you’ll wake her,’ she hissed. ‘It’s not even seven, yet.’

‘Something’s happened,’ I said, reaching out for her wrist.
‘You’ve got to come – right now!’

I dragged her, barefoot in her flimsy chemise, into my room.
She stopped abruptly, her toes inches from his boot.

‘What happened,’ she whispered, looking down to him and then
up at me repeatedly.

‘I don’t know. I just found him here…’

Karen went to the window and pulled the curtains right back.
Under the man’s head a pool of blood the size of a dinner plate had made its
way across the floor.

‘Shit – how long has he… ?’

She was far braver than me and bent down, placing her
fingers against his neck.

‘Try his pulse,’ she instructed. I stretched out my fingers
and let them hover above his limp wrist. I didn’t know how to do it. She nudged
me aside and did it herself, shifting her fingers around, trying to find the
right place. She looked up.

‘Well – he’s dead,’ she whispered.

‘Oh, God…’ I said.

I stood up. ‘We mustn’t touch anything.’ I swallowed a taste
like rotting slug inside my mouth. ‘It’s Mark, isn’t it?’

Karen got down on her knees, then slowly pulled on his
shoulder to turn him over.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ I spluttered. ‘You’re
disturbing a crime scene!’

His eyes were open but gluey like egg white, the colour
already draining from his lips. I hovered by the doorway, not wanting to take a
closer look.

‘It’s not Mark,’ she said.

I stepped forward. ‘Oh, God – it isn’t,’ I spluttered. ‘Who
the hell is it then?’

‘No idea…’

She stood up. I was looking at the door, the rug, the bed,
attempting to work out what could have happened.

‘How come you didn’t hear him?’ said Karen. ‘He must have
made one hell of a crash when he fell.’

I shook my head. ‘I didn’t hear a thing. I didn’t even hear
him come in…’

‘He must have tripped over the mat and hit his head on the
corner of the bedstead.’ We both honed our gaze onto the solid iron balls on
the top of the bedframe. I tried to remember. There was something about what
Karen was saying that sounded familiar, but it was like a dream I’d once had
where only fragments remained, floating around in the wrong order.

‘Maybe it was so quick he didn’t make a sound,’ I suggested.
‘But – what was he doing
here
– in my
room?’

I stared in astonishment at the weight of him, the size of
him, unable to see how it could be true. ‘How could I not have heard him?’ I
muttered.

Karen walked over to my bedside cabinet and held up the
bottle of sleeping tablets, rattling them. ‘I think these might have something
to do with that.’

I reached over to reclaim them. ‘I hardly ever use them,’ I
protested.

She put the bottle back. ‘We’ll talk about it later,’ she
said.

‘We should call the police.’ I grabbed my phone from the
pocket of my bathrobe and punched in 999. Nothing happened. I looked down at
it, then pressed it to my ear. There was no tone. I checked the bars on the
screen. Of course, no signal.

‘We’re out of range,’ said Karen. ‘I’ll get changed and go
down the lane – see if I can get a connection. I’ll drive if I have to. You stay
with Mel.’

‘We should roll him back to how we found him.’

Karen leant down and gave his shoulder a push so he slumped
back against the floor.

I grabbed a bundle of clothes – I had to get out of the room
as quickly as possible – and stumbled into the bathroom. I got to the toilet
just in time. Three surges of vomit spattered against the sides. I sat on the
floor holding the bowl, shaking. What the hell had happened?

Edging my way out, I dropped my clothes and patted the wall
beside me as if I was blind. I gripped the windowsill on the landing and made
myself focus. Outside, Karen was running along the track, stopping, then waving
her phone around. Then she held it to her face and I saw her lips move. Thank
God, she’d got through. I rested my head against the wall and breathed heavily.

I reached out with both hands and grabbed on to the
bannister. I don’t know how I got down the stairs without falling. My legs were
like sticks of cooked spaghetti and there was a snowstorm behind my eyes.

Karen came inside and sat with me at the bottom of the
stairs. ‘They’re coming,’ she said, ‘but it could be a while.’

‘Who is he?’ I said.

‘I told you. I’ve no idea.’

‘Why would he turn up like this? How did he get in?’

She grabbed my hand and we went from room to room together,
checking for any signs of intrusion. We spotted it straight away; the kitchen
window was open. Blasts of cold air were bursting through. Karen reached out to
shut it, but I caught her arm.

‘We mustn’t touch anything,’ I said.

‘It’s freezing,’ she said, nudging it almost closed with her
elbow.

I pointed to a single wet boot-print on the window ledge.
‘That’s his,’ I said stupidly, my mouth hanging open.

‘Looks like he was on his own,’ said Karen.

‘Was he trying to rob us? Is this connected to Mark – and
all that money I found?’ I was chuntering on, mostly to myself, trying to fill
the space with words so I could block out the dead man’s image.

I went through to the fireplace and resorted to pacing back
and forth. My heart was thudding away under my ribcage, my palms sweating even
though I was shivering at the same time. The hand on the clock face shifted to
quarter-past, then half-past.

‘Where are the police?’ I said, taking hold of the bookshelf
for balance.

‘I told you. They might take a while.’ Her hand was shaking
as she took my arm. She was more perturbed than she sounded. ‘Why don’t you get
dressed? You’re freezing.’

The thought of the man lying at the foot of my bed kept me
rooted to the spot. I’d had my clothes in my hand a minute ago, where were they
now? Seeing the stupefied look on my face, Karen went upstairs. She came back
with my jeans and jumper. I pulled them on over my pyjamas without thinking.

‘I’ll light the fire,’ she said. ‘It’ll give me something to
do.’ Her face was puckered into a confused frown, her shoulders sagging. ‘How’s
your head been, by the way?’

‘Oh,’ I instinctively put my hand up to the bump. It was the
last thing on my mind right now. ‘It comes and goes.’

‘I can’t see anything missing. We should have a check around.’

‘Is Mel okay?’

‘She’s fine. Still asleep.’

I didn’t like the idea of the baby being so close to the man
in my bedroom, but he wasn’t going to do anything, he wasn’t going to hurt her.
Not now.

I watched Karen get the fire started, feeling I should be
doing something, but my brain was too busy firing questions like ping-pong
balls in every direction. I got up and stood by the window in the hall so I
could see the track, while Karen went around checking for signs of disturbance.
I just wanted the police to come and take the body away.

No sign of them. It looked like it had rained and re-frozen
overnight; everything was covered in shards of glass. The roads would be
treacherous.

‘Come back to the fire, Alice,’ Karen called to me, ‘there’s
nothing we can do.’

I stared at the flames, then the clock, then the window in
turn as the minutes ticked by. Just before 10am, a sharp rap of the knocker
made me jump and Karen leapt to answer the door. At last – the police. I felt
too wobbly to get up – by that stage my headache was scorching a hole through
my temple.

After a few seconds, I turned to listen, expecting Karen to
show them through at any moment. I could hear low voices, but they weren’t
getting any closer. Then there was nothing. Karen came back in on her own.

‘Just Mrs Ellington,’ she said. ‘Wanting to know if we had
enough blankets.’

‘Did you tell her?’ My eyes were wide in a frantic stare.

‘Of course not!’

I was taken aback. ‘Why ever not?’

‘She would only have panicked – why upset her like that? The
police will deal with it.’

‘But where are they?’ I sank back down again gripping the
chair arm, watching the clock on the mantelpiece like it was a bomb about to go
off.

‘The police aren’t coming, are they? We need to ring again.’
My phone was in my bedroom and I wasn’t going to retrieve it unless it was a
last resort.

‘You’re right,’ said Karen, backing out of the room. ‘I’ll
try again.’