‘That’s ridiculous!’ He’s outraged. ‘I’ve no interest inthem!’ He knows Monica is no fool, so he has to make this good. ‘I’m a twitcher, Monica. A birdwatcher! Might seem odd to you, but it’s a perfectly lovely way to spend an hour or two –’
‘That’s what I thought, you see,’ she says sadly. ‘Give himthe benefit of the doubt, Monica, I said to myself. Might not be exactly what it looks like, or so I thought. But then, well, when I got back here something didn’t sit right. I just couldn’t rest. So I went upstairs.’
His throat tightens so that suddenly he chokes, then retches, his eyes watering. ‘I hope you’ve not entered my room when I’ve specifically asked you –’
‘It’s notyourroom, but itismy house!’ Monica snaps. ‘And, consequently, I have the right to enter any room of my choosing, if I have good reason to do so.’
‘You had no right,’ he says, from behind gritted teeth as his breathing grows fast and shallow. ‘No right whatsoever.’
‘That’s as maybe, but Ididgo into your room and I saw your nasty little journal detailing your spying activities and a log listing the photographs you’ve taken. Most of them of that young lady, Janey, who’s won the house.’ She presses her lips together and folds her arms. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware, but a young woman drowned in the lake last night and the police are appealing for any information that might be helpful to their enquiries.’
There are a few beats of silence and then he feels it. A pulse of heat moving steadily through him.
‘I’m not saying you had anything to do with that poor girl’s death, but I’d be quite within my rights to go to the police with this,’ Monica says triumphantly.
He starts to sweat. The light on the electric fire suddenly burning far too brightly, the air in the room so cloying, it feels impossible to breathe. He stares at her, his jaw locking.
Monica’s arms drop away from their folded position and her face blanches slightly. ‘I don’t want any trouble here, so I’m willing to turn a blind eye to your seedy activities. Provided you leave the house tonight.’
‘I’ve just paid you in advance for another two weeks and I’ll be staying for the duration,’ he says, in a monotone, and stands up.
Monica gulps, trying and failing to give a stern response. ‘I’ll refund your unused nights. I can’t say any fairer than that.’
‘I’ve unfinished business here. I can’t leave yet.’ He takes a couple of steps forward and Monica also stands up. Her fingers twist together, her haughty attitude dissolving in front of him.
‘I won’t leave. Do you hear me?’ He tilts his head, watching her. How quickly that bossy confidence has drained away. No smart remarks now. No dry wit. Just an interfering woman who has suddenly found she’s made a very serious mistake in underestimating him.
Her mouth opens and words spill out, but he doesn’t hear them. The red mist is rising and his hands move quickly even before his mind fully registers it. Then he’s lashing out, his fingers closing around the warm, thin skin of Monica’s neck.
‘Stop … no!’ A gasp escapes her throat as he grips tighter, his thumbs pressing into the hollow just beneath her jaw. She claws at his wrists, her nails digging in, but she’s weak. He feels nothing but soft, yielding flesh and brittle, birdlike bones beneath his powerful hands.
‘You shouldn’t have gone into my room, Monica,’ he murmurs, his voice calm and steady now. His hands tighten further as he watches the way her eyes bulge and her mouth opens and closes soundlessly. ‘You should not have interfered in my personal business.’
Monica kicks out, her slippered foot catching his shin, but she’s feeble. Nothing more than an annoyance. She can’t stop him now. No one can.
He presses harder still, enjoying the way her body jolts beneath his hands.
After so many years of being invisible, of silently suffering the wounds of the past, he is finally the one with the power. His time has come.
Nothing is going to stop him doing what he must.
60
Fifteen Years Earlier
The house felt warmer, a far safer place to be, these days. When David wasn’t there, I yearned for his touch. When he was at home, I’d tiptoe around him, nervous of setting off one of his mood swings.
The walls seemed to press in on me whenever I was alone, which was often, now that Beth had drifted further under Mrs Webb’s shadow. I missed our cuddles, our quiet companionship in the bedroom where Beth would read and I’d listen to music, or leaf through a magazine.
Beth sat in the lounge, her head bowed, fingers tapping against her knee. I caught her eye, hoping for a smile, for some trace of the sister I once knew, but she looked away. We sat in silence for a while and then she finally spoke. ‘Mummy says David’s too old to be around you all the time. She says she’s not going to put up with it much longer.’
My mouth went dry.Mummy. The word left her lips with a sickening affection. I pictured Mrs Webb’s cold stare, her lips curling into the cruel smile she wore when she’d tricked me into moving out of our bedroom.
‘Don’t worry, though, Janey. I’ve begged her not to make you leave.’ Beth straightened, her eyes narrowing. ‘Mummy says I’m to keep an eye on you and tell her if I see him near your room.’
My heart rate ramped up a notch. David and I sleeping together is our secret, but if Beth is his mother’s spy, we’d have to be extra careful. ‘We’re just friends,’ I said lightly. ‘Like you and the old witch are.’
Beth stood up and walked away. Her back was ramrod straight, and it struck me she was starting to look like a little wooden puppet, carved in Mrs Webb’s image.
