Simon Beckett - The Chemistry of Death

I tore open the fridge, fumbling in my haste as Henry pushed himself in.

'I'll get it. You find a syringe,' he instructed.

The framed photographs on top of the steel drugs cabinet rattled as I flung open the doors and rooted on the shelves for the syringes.

'What about the ambulance?'

'On its way. Here, you're in no state for this. Let me,' Henry said, peremptorily, holding out his hand for the syringe. I didn't argue. 'What in God's name is going on?' he asked, stabbing the needle through the seal.

'It was Tom Mason. He was keeping her out at an old air-raid shelter near the house.' I felt my heart twist at the sight of Jenny's unmoving form. 'He killed Sally Palmer and Lyn Metcalf.'

'George Mason's grandson?' Henry said incredulously. 'You're not serious!'

'He tried to kill me as well.'

'Christ! Where is he now?'

'Jenny stabbed him.'

'You mean he's dead?'

'Perhaps. I don't know.'

Right then I didn't care. I watched in an agony of impatience as Henry frowned over the syringe.

'Blast! The needle's blocked; it's not filling. Get me another, quick.'

I wanted to shout at him as I turned back to the drugs cabinet. The doors had swung to, and I wrenched them open so hard that one of the photographs standing on top fell over. I barely gave it a glance, but as I snatched up the syringes something belatedly registered.

I looked again, not at the picture that had fallen but the one next to it. It was the wedding photograph of Henry and his wife. I'd seen it any number of times, been moved by the captured moment of happiness. But that wasn't why I stared now.

Henry's wife was wearing a dress exactly like the one I'd seen in Mason's cellar.

I told myself I was imagining it. But the design, with its ornate panel of lace fleurs-de-lis on the front, was too distinctive to mistake. They were identical. No, not identical, I realized.

It was the same dress.

'Henry-' I began, then gasped at a sudden pain in my leg. I looked down to see Henry pushing himself away from me, an empty syringe in his hand.

'I'm sorry, David. I truly am,' he said, regarding me with a curious mix of sadness and resignation.

'What…' I started to say, but the words wouldn't form. Everything was starting to recede, the room around me growing indistinct. I sank down onto the floor, feeling suddenly weightless. As I lost my grip on the world, my last sight was an impossible one, of Henry standing up from the wheelchair and walking towards me.

Then he and everything else disappeared into blackness.

The slow ticking of the clock filled the room with a sound like dust falling through sunlight. Each leisurely stroke seemed to hang for an age before being followed by the next. I couldn't see it, but I could visualize the clock, old and heavy, its polished wood smelling of beeswax and age. I felt I knew it intimately, could anticipate the brass curve of its key when I came to wind it.

I could have listened to its stately cadence for ever.

A log fire burned in the grate, giving off a sweet pungency of pine. Tall bookshelves filled one wall, and lamps lit the corners of the room with a soft glow. A white bowl of oranges sat in the centre of the cherrywood table. There was a warm familiarity to the room, just as there was to the entire house, even though I knew I had never set foot here in my waking life. This was the place Kara and Alice inhabited in my dreams. This was home.

I was filled with a joy so overwhelming I felt I couldn't contain it. Kara sat opposite me on the sofa, Alice curled like a kitten on her lap. Their faces as they looked at me were sad. I wanted to reassure them there was no reason to be. Everything was all right now. I was back with them again.

For ever.

Kara eased Alice down from her knee. 'Go and play outside, there's a good girl.'

'Can't I stay with Daddy?'

'Not now. Daddy and I have to talk.'

Alice gave a moue of disappointment. She came over and hugged me. I could feel the heat and reality of her small frame as I squeezed her.

'Go on, it's all right.' I kissed the top of her head. Her fine hair felt like silk. 'I'll be here when you get back.'

She regarded me solemnly. 'Bye-bye, Daddy.'

I watched her walk from the room. At the door she turned and gave a little wave, then she was gone. My heart was so full I couldn't speak for a moment. Kara was still looking at me from across the table.

'What's wrong?' I asked. Aren't you happy?

'This isn't right, David.'

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. 'Yes it is. Can't you feel it?'

Even through my joy I couldn't mistake Kara's sadness. 'It's the drug, David. That's what's making you feel like this. But it's false. You have to fight it.'

I couldn't understand her concern. 'We're together again. Isn't that what you want?'

'Not like this.'

'Why not? I'm here with you. That's all that matters.'

'This isn't just about us. Or you. Not any more.'

The first breath of a chill wind cooled my euphoria. 'What do you mean?'

'She needs you.'

'Who? Alice? Of course she does.'

But I knew it wasn't our daughter she was talking about. The happiness I'd felt was being buffeted now. Determined to hold on to it, I went over to the table and took an orange from the bowl.

'Do you want one?'

Kara just shook her head, watching me in silence. I held the fruit in my hand. I could feel its weight, see the dimpled texture of its skin. I could picture the spurt of juice that would come when I started to peel it, could almost smell the sharp orange zest. It would be sweet, I knew, just as I knew that eating it, tasting it, would somehow be an act of acceptance. And one from which there would be no going back.

Reluctantly, I put the orange back in the bowl. There was a heaviness in my chest as I went back to sit down. Kara's eyes were brimming as she smiled.

'Is this what you meant before? When you told me to be careful?' I asked.

She didn't answer.

'Isn't it too late?' I wanted to know.

A shadow crossed her face. 'Perhaps. It's going to be close.'

My throat felt constricted. 'What about you and Alice?'

Her smile was full of warmth. 'We're fine. You don't need to worry about us.'

'I'm not going to see you again, am I?'

She was crying silently, still smiling. 'You don't need to. Not any more.'

Tears were rolling down my own face. 'I love you,' I told her.

'I know.'

She came over and hugged me. I buried my face in her hair for the last time, breathing in the scent of her, not wanting to let go and knowing I had to.

'Take care, David,' she said. And as I tasted the salt tang of tears on my lips, I realized I could no longer hear the clock…

… and found myself in darkness, paralysed and suffocating.

I tried to breathe and failed. My chest felt wrapped with bands of iron. Panicking, I struggled to claw in a breath, managed one wheezing gasp, then another. I felt as though I was packed in cotton wool, muffled from the external world. It would have been so easy to give up and sink into it once more…

Fight it. Kara's words jolted me back again. The euphoria I'd felt earlier had turned to ashes. My diaphragm fluttered, protesting against each breath. But my breathing was becoming less laboured with every meagre inhalation.

I opened my eyes.

The world was canted over at a crazy angle. I struggled to focus as everything swam around me. I became aware of Henry's voice, drifting above my head.

'… didn't mean for this to happen, David, please believe that. But once he'd taken her it was out of my hands. What could I do?'

Now I saw that I was moving. A wall was sliding by next to me. I realized I was in Henry's wheelchair, being pushed down the hallway. I tried to sit upright, succeeded only in flopping limply in the chair. The room spun around even more, but now everything was starting to come back.