Jed took her hand as they began to walk. ‘Come on, we can’t stand here all night stressing and those two are getting a bit cocky. Look, Oscar’s miles ahead. You need to get a proper fence, you know, otherwise he’ll be off and Belle will trot on after him and you don’t want them chasing the cows… see that’s what my head is full of, all the things I could help with around here.’
The words were music to Frankie’s ears because while she’d lain awake at night with Jed sleeping beside her, lists of things to do had been made and all of them included him. He was where her future lay, in a perfect world, there in France. Watching Oscar snuffle at whatever was hidden in the long grass, Frankie assured Jed they were on the same page.
‘Tell me about it. When I look around at what I used to call my piece of paradise, I want you to be part of it too. So we have to find a way, Jed, even if it means us having a long-distance relationship.’
‘I agree. Right, as soon as I’m back home I’ll have a sit down with Mum and Dad and tell them how we feel. I can’t do it while Spud is around and I think I need to speak to them together.’
Frankie nodded. ‘That’s a good idea. What if your mum hates me for stealing her boy… she loves you, they both do. It’s going to be tough, you know.’
‘Mmm, but Mum wants what’s best for me. She always has so don’t worry about that. And she likes you a lot, I told you that.’
Frankie squeezed his hand. A flicker of worry tickled her heart but she forced it away: she had to have faith in Jed, give him a chance to sort it out. His next words soothed her fears.
‘Maybe Dad can take on another part-time labourer. It’s a shame my dopey cousin is useless because he’d have solved all our problems and eased my conscience at the same time. Still, we’ll find a way even though it will kill me saying goodbye tomorrow.’
‘Me too, but at least now we have a kind of plan.’ Frankie was experiencing so many emotions, all swirling around inside, good and bad, but combined they left her feeling hopeful and happy, and really that was all she could ask for.
Then another thought pinged. ‘Jed, will you promise to make them understand I’m not kidnapping their only child, and that they are welcome here anytime and once we’ve done up the barn they could even stay there – that’s on my list, by the way; maybe run a writers retreat… How fab would that be?’
Jed laughed. ‘And there’s me getting ahead of myself but now you mention it, I’ve had my eye on the woodshed because it’d make a great workshop. I could finally start making furniture, bespoke stuff, and then there’s the pool you wanted. My imaginary list is huge.’
As they followed Oscar, the deputy leader of the pack, and made their way around the front of the house, both of them sharing ideas, Frankie’s eye was drawn to a dim light on the lane, probably Sacha shining his torch as Luc locked up the chicken shed for the night. It caused another thought to zap into her head.Chickens: we really could get some and Jed would make the best hen house in the village.
It was coming together at last, her life. The lure and promise of happiness hovered on the horizon and all Frankie had to do was be patient. Her mum had another saying, that good things came to those who wait, and Frankie had been waiting a while. It was her time now, she knew it.
26
Iwas furious when I heard that Bea Butler was still alive, absolutely incandescent but once I’d calmed down, I realised she could still die from her injuries so all is not lost. It will be two out of three to me.
I was about to make sure she was dead when I heard the latch, then the gate creak – that hinge really needed some oil. So there was no time to give her head another good whack against the radiator to make sure. I only just made it to the utility room – talk about a mad sprint – before the granny came through the back door.
Oh, how my heart raced, and for a split second I had one of those out-of-body experiences and pictured myself in a Hollywood movie, the sinister figure lurking in the shadows while some stupid woman screamed and howled in distress at my spectacular handiwork.
Luck, that’s what gives what I do the edge, adds to the excitement. I love it. When I went in there I had no firm plan, only a vague idea that if I could get Bea as she came up the stairs, surprise her like I did Scarlet Jones, then I had a good chance of making it look like an accident. If not, I would revert to the burglary scenario, and even though it would have made the police even more suspicious about the connection between the women, they still had to prove it.
I had my knife with me for back-up. I quite fancied using it. Attack from behind, back and neck, kidneys, any vital organ, stab, stab, stab, nice and quick. Easy when nobody knows you’re there, creeping about their house. I’ve imagined what it would be like, that feeling of metal cutting through skin so I experimented on a large chicken from Tesco. Then I chopped it up and put it in the freezer. Waste not want not. Never mind though, there’s still time to have a go with my knife and live out that little fantasy.
Getting out of Bea’s was easy because screaming granny had her back to me as she knelt on the floor, begging whoever was at the other end of the phone to hurry. So I slipped out, then calmly walked to the back of the garden and pushed through the hedges to the lane at the rear.
Again, I had to take a chance, hoping nobody looked out their windows and spotted someone in a paper suit, not a regular occurrence in Elkdale, I admit. It was a risk, especially the moment as I slipped it off when I was out of sight, shrouded by the hedgerows. I stuffed it and my blue surgical gloves into the plastic food bag in the rucksack I’d left hidden amongst the greenery, then off I went.
If anyone had passed me – which they didn’t – they’d have thought I was just another hiker. I’d have nodded politely and gone on my way. There’s so many of them wandering around these parts, and with my hat pulled down you’d have a hard job describing me. Then I made my way home just in time for a late brekky.
Sleepyhead didn’t even know I’d been out all night and my perfect alibi ate scrambled eggs on toast as we chatted about this and that, nothing in particular.
I couldn’t settle, though. My head was full of the information I’d acquired at the Hooper’s place and I was antsy all day. That was fun, being in their house. In my head I was an elusive jewel thief wanted by Interpol, a legend amongst my fraternity. I wasn’t even spooked when the alarm went off and Tweedledum and Tweedledee eventually turned up to do their thing.
I had plenty of time to scour the downstairs before they arrived the first time, and found exactly what I was looking for in the kitchen drawer. People are so stupid and predictable. The address book was a veritable goldmine of information where Frankie is concerned but I didn’t have time to read it immediately because the neighbours bungled in, making enough noise with their bickering to wake the dead.
I love hiding: it makes my heart pound like when I was a child at school and we’d play hide-and-seek. I liked being a child. I had friends then, I’m sure I did, until I got older and somehow became a loner. Being an only child always set me apart, too much expectation and responsibility. It was a burden and it weighed me down, the pain of it reflected in my face, altering my demeanour which in turn plagued my life. That’s how I see myself. I don’t need a therapist to work it out. I do wish I’d known about secret spirit back then, I didn’t know I’d always had a friend inside of me. That makes me sad.
Anyway, back to Hooperville. Once the neighbours who, in my honest opinion didn’t perform their duties in a very thorough or responsible way, had re-set the alarm, I had a nice lie down on the big double bed where I waited until seven, then made my exit. Oh, and I had a mooch about: it alleviated the boredom.
That reminds me, their reading matter leaves much to be desired. Mr Hooper is halfway through Ian Botham’s biography and Mrs Hooper had just started a Jackie Collins. I tore the last few pages out and flushed them down the loo so she’ll never find out what happens to Star, and Mr Hooper will miss out on naughty Ian’s exploits in a hotel room in Australia. Oh how I laughed.
I found their laptop in the airing cupboard under the towels. The battery was almost flat and then it needed a password. Fancy that, the Hooper’s aren’t as backward as I thought. I listened to the tearful message on the answerphone, Bea Butler informing the Hoopers of Scarlet’s demise. I deleted the message and chuckled at the irony of listening to the voice of someone who’d be dead soon, someone I was going to kill.
Yes, I set the alarm off again on my way out and it gave me great pleasure to imagine the neighbours tutting and heaving themselves from their slumbers once more. I waited, crouched behind the garden shed until they’d done their bit, then another thirty minutes before I went on my way. The only people I saw were the bin men who barely acknowledged my existence as they dragged the wheelie bins along the street.
