My eyes narrow at him, frustrated that he’s right. If I can’t tell him the truth, I’ll never have any hope of explaining things to my family. But that time isn't yet.
He can find his own way to the bathroom. It’s a small apartment, not a maze. I listen for the lock on the door and the water running before I creep silently into the bedroom and rummage in the little bag on the nightstand. The small toiletry bag has painkillers, anti-sickness tablets, even sleeping pills. All the essentials I may need for an emergency, or at least what I thought could be needed when I put this all together.
That's not what I'm after, though.
I pull out the packet of dull-red iron tablets. I’ve been anaemic most of my adult life and take supplements to help. Usually, I take a more kind and friendly alternative, but that doesn’t pack well. You can have some nasty side effects from too much iron, especially if you take them in the wrong quantity. And maybe mixed with some of the other tablets in my bag, like the Senokot and pain relief. Perhaps, if Noah was somehow incapacitated, I’d be able to flee. At least have a head start? He's right. He'll find me no matter what, and I need a backup plan in case the truth doesn’t sway his decision, so I pop several iron tablets from the foil confines and put the bag back.
Back in the kitchen, a glass tumbler serves as a pestle, and I grind the tablets up. Hopefully, the sugar and mint will mask any taste. Maybe. Either way, the sound of the water turning off, as I sweep the dusty remnants into his glass, hurry my efforts. I top off the drink with more water and fresh mint, then put the small cup on the table and stay in the kitchen away from him.
My heart hammers in my chest, thinking about what I’m about to do. It’s only a little iron, but what if it makes him really ill? No. That’s silly. I just want to give him a stomach ache.
Noah emerges from the bedroom in a clean but equally fitted t-shirt. His damp hair is darker and obscures his eyes slightly. It’s a very good look on him and something I should not be letting cross my mind. The last time I gave in to my gut reaction about a man, it ended up with me standing over my father’s dying body.
I’ve learned my lesson.
“Tea’s on the table for you,” I offer, taking a sip from my own, untainted drink.
He sits back down and picks up the small cup to drink, but his face soon screws up into a distorted scowl. “What the fuck is this?”
“Mint tea. It’s delicious,” I reply, forcing the quiver out of my voice.
“Tea should be a fucking builder’s tea. Strong. No floral herb shit. This does not constitute tea.”
“That's all I have here. It’s a traditional recipe,” I lie. It’s a white one, but now he's only taken a mouthful. So, no matter the intention of the iron tablets, I’ll have to think of something else.
“Coffee?” he asks.
“Maybe.” There’s an old tin of instant, but that’s been here for a long time. I open the cupboard to check. Maybe that will make him ill. “You can try it if you’re sure.”
“Well, it’s got to be better than this shit. God, first the cat, now the tea.”
“Murph – you better not have hurt him.” I spin around and point the spoon at him as if it were a carving knife.
“The little shit is fine.”
“Good. How did you break in, by the way?” I ask, out of curiosity, as I turn back to fix what I’m sure will be a worse drink than the tainted tea.
“Not going to share that. You might think to upgrade the system when you’re not running away from a murder charge.”
“There are no charges. And I’m innocent.”
“According to you.”
“Look, sit down. Drink your coffee.” I place it in front of him. “While I may not have pulled the trigger, I know it’s my fault. I gave Lewis a way in, but I didn’t know that at the start.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck about a sob story? Save it for Landon.”
“No, I need to explain it to you. If I can’t show you, how will they understand the actions I’ve taken?”
“Fine.” He takes a gulp of the coffee and grimaces again. “Take your best shot. Doesn’t change what happens tomorrow, though.”
“What happens tomorrow?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“We go back.” I can’t let that happen. One way or another, there’s no way I’ll be going back tomorrow with him.
I fold myself into the sofa and face him at the dining table, then, finishing my mint tea, I filter through the last year to find the place I want to start. This is a gamble, and I’m not sure if it will pay off, but I’m out of other moves.
“Lewis introduced himself to me at a work party. I don’t usually go to those types of things, but I’d not been at the firm for long and people were suspicious enough of me. He started talking to me, and we got on. He worked in cybersecurity for a government department, or so I thought, and so we had things in common.”
