The Mistress - Jill Childs Page 0,87

out of my bag. He slit the top of the envelope with a neatly cut thumbnail and flicked over the cash there, mentally checking the amount. I added the car keys.

I whispered, ‘How will you do it?’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘You don’t want to know.’

I bit my lip. ‘But it’ll be quick? Painless?’

He shrugged, as if to say, if that’s how you want it.

‘Call the cops tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘Nine or ten o’clock, maybe. Not the emergency service, the local police station. They take longer. Report the car stolen overnight. You’ll need paperwork for the hire car company.’

I blinked. ‘What’ll you do with it?’

He said, ‘I’ll burn it out, afterwards. Don’t worry.’ He raised his hands, showing me his gloves. ‘Trust me. I know what I’m doing.’

He turned away. I grasped at his arm, pulling him back to face me again.

‘You’re sure about this? What if they find him?’

‘They won’t.’ He looked as if he were struggling to be patient with me. ‘Look, even if bits of him did surface someday, they’d have nothing to go on. So, it’s his DNA? Who’d be surprised?’ He sucked his lower lip, thoughtfully. ‘That’s the thing about dying. People only expect you to do it once.’

I hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t too late. I could say I’d changed my mind, call him off.

He said, ‘Okay?’

I thought about Laura Dixon and how close he’d come to murdering her. The way he’d failed to show the slightest remorse. I thought about Megan and his menacing messages. He’d wanted to keep pursuing her, to punish her for rejecting him. How could he take a risk like that, a risk that might put us both in prison, out of spite and wounded pride?

I thought about Anna. The grief and upheaval he’d forced on her, all because of his lies and selfishness. I shook my head.

Mike Ridge, watching me, seemed to read my thoughts.

‘I’ll tell you something for nothing, Mrs W. It might’ve been the other way round.’

I blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He phoned me about a week ago. Anonymous, of course, but I’m not stupid. He’d seen me around, I expect, outside the house. Offered me cash.’

I frowned. ‘For what?’

‘To rub you out. No questions asked.’ He pulled a face, as if to say, see what I’m saying? Is that any way to behave?

Then he opened the back door and motioned towards Ralph.

I leaned again into the car. Ralph was squirming on the back seat. His eyes were blinded by a thick strip of masking tape. Another covered his mouth. Tape was wound around his ankles and wrists too, sealing the work I’d begun with the belts.

I put my mouth close to his ear and, feeling my breath, he quietened to listen.

‘Why were we never enough for you, Ralph?’ I whispered. ‘Anna and I.’

He tossed back his head and struggled to sit up.

‘All those years. I put up with your lies, your affairs. I covered for you. I did everything you asked. I even lied to help you escape Laura Dixon and claim the insurance. I risked everything.’ I paused and caught my breath, trying not to cry. ‘Why didn’t you just leave Megan alone?’

He bucked and struggled on the back seat and tried to shout, his words swallowed by the tape.

I whispered, ‘And by the way, this Romeo and Juliet thing? You keep forgetting. Romeo? He ends up dead.’

I kissed him on the cheek, crying now. Kissed him goodbye.

Fifty-Five

Two months later

‘Ugh! I just touched something! It’s alive!’

‘What? Let me see.’ Anna shoved Clara out of the way to look. ‘Look, Mummy! A spider! It’s huge!’

They were standing side by side on kitchen chairs, sorting through freshly picked blackberries piled high in bowls. Their hair, brushed and tied back just hours ago, was already falling free, straggly and studded with fragments of leaf. Their sleeves were pushed back to the elbow, showing a patchwork of scratches from the bushes. Their fingers and mouths were stained purple with juice.

Anna, fearless, caught the spider in her hands. ‘Quick! Open the door!’

Clara followed, screeching and jumping, as Anna headed outside to release the spider back into the wild.

Clara was shouting, ‘Mummy! It’s Mummy!’

I wiped my hands on a towel and hurried outside to see. Bea’s car was bouncing down the track, lurching from side to side in the muddy ruts. Her brow was furrowed, her knuckles white where she gripped the steering wheel.

She skidded to a stop next to my new car, switched off the engine, then, finally, looked up,