Nicci French - Until it's Over

I walked from the park and into a shop where I bought a large bottle of water, which I drank on the spot, every last drop. I could feel the cold liquid running into me. I started to walk back towards the house, but I knew it would be some time before the police were finished with her, so I changed my mind and went to Melanie’s gallery instead, to kill time. She couldn’t believe it when I pushed the door open and went inside. The second day in a row! Her face lit up with a kind of dazed happiness that made her look even younger than she was. She didn’t struggle this time, even though I was rough with her. There were red marks and bruises on her skin when I’d finished. I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see her looking at me. I left before she’d finished buttoning her shirt.

They should have listened to themselves and then they’d have realized how stupid they sound. Yabber, yabber, yabber. Miles being pompous and wounded all at once, and Pippa going on about tenants’ rights. Dario whining between toxic clouds of smoke, Mick grunting, Leah putting in her poisonous remarks. Owen didn’t really say anything, but that was probably because he was so busy trying to look like a film star who’d wandered into the wrong movie and now had to sit it out. I was Mr Nice Guy, of course, but I didn’t put much effort into it. My mouth smiled, my eyes made contact with the others round the table, I nodded in agreement, frowned in thought. Every so often I heard myself saying bland, reasonable phrases, but it was all happening at a great distance from me.

Because I was waiting for Astrid. Every cell in my body was alert, each little sound vibrated through me. I heard every car that slowed down as it passed the house, every door that slammed, each footstep falling on the pavement outside.

At last it was her. Nobody else seemed to notice that the front door had opened, then closed softly. I strained my ears but could hear nothing. She must be standing in the hall, hesitating, wondering whether to go to her room or to come down and face us. Perhaps she wouldn’t come downstairs at all. I didn’t think I could stand that.

‘You’re behaving like a silly little schoolboy,’ Leah snapped at Dario.

I nudged Pippa. ‘I think I heard Astrid come in,’ I whispered. ‘Should we ask her to join us?’

‘Astrid? Is that you?’ she yelled immediately. Her voice was surprisingly loud for such a willowy girl. ‘Come here, will you? We need you.’

‘Bollocks to you,’ roared Dario. ‘You’re deliberately twisting things, but you won’t get away with it, you know.’

Her footsteps were light on the stairs. I tried not to stare at the doorway where she would appear so at first I caught only a burning glimpse of her, bundled up in oversized jeans and a large blue jumper. Like a waif. Like an orphan. I allowed myself to look properly as she came across and sank into the large armchair, mumbling something inane to cover my stare. Her face was pale, her dark eyes enormous. There was a pulse in her throat and a tiny blue vein in her temple, just visible behind her black hair. She’d never looked more beautiful; it was all I could do to stop myself going over to her and taking her in my arms. But everybody else was so caught up in the quarrel that they hardly took any notice of her. Blind, deaf fools, all of them. She just sat there, silent and blank, listening to them baying at each other. I saw how she put up one hand and brushed the hair away from her face. She had long, slender fingers, bare of rings. Her nails were cut very short. Every so often, she closed her eyes briefly. Her thick lashes lay against her smooth skin.

What was going through her head? Finally I couldn’t bear it any longer. I went over to her, squatting down near enough to breathe in the smell of her, and asked her if she was all right. She turned her head and half smiled at me. Our eyes met, and I was looking right into her, deep down, and I knew then that if she didn’t understand the connection between us yet, one day she would.

When she spoke at last, her words cut through the noise. ‘What a cunt you are,’ she said to Leah. She said she didn’t care about the money. She made everyone ashamed of themselves. And then she told them. I watched her. The way her fists clenched when she spoke. The little lights in her pupils. How she bit her lip before giving details. Everyone gathered round but I had been there first. In all the excited clamour, I let myself reach out a hand and touch her shoulder, where the jersey stopped and her skin began. Mine, mine, mine.

Sometimes it’s too easy. Like when I told Leah about Pippa and Owen. I was in the kitchen when she came in, and without asking her, I handed her a cup of coffee, black and no sugar, the way she liked it, then sliced up a mango for her: she didn’t eat things like bread or cereal, but she liked fruit, I’d noticed.

‘You look a bit tired,’ I said to her. She didn’t, really: she looked glitteringly awake and elegant as ever, but the sympathy in my voice softened her.

‘I am, I guess,’ she said, sliding a slice of mango into her mouth, then dabbing her lips with a tissue.

‘It must be hard for you, Leah.’

‘What must be?’

‘This house. I mean, it’s hard for me, and I’m just a tenant, not the landlord’s boyfriend. For what it’s worth, I think you’re being very impressive.’

‘Do you?’

‘I do,’ I said solemnly.

‘To be honest, sometimes I feel like throwing in the towel and leaving Miles to sort out his own stupid mess.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Why do you find it hard, though? You seem to get on so well with everyone.’

‘I think I do. But it’s all so complicated, isn’t it?’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Like, I can’t quite get the hang of who goes with who. Pippa, for instance.’

‘Ha – that’s easy. She goes with everyone.’

‘Yeah, well, I know about Mick.’

‘You mean she’s…?’

‘And then there was Owen, of course.’

‘Owen!’

‘Yeah – you knew about that, didn’t you? No? Oh, God, I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I? I thought people knew. It was only a fling, I’m sure of it.’

‘So, Pippa and Owen.’ I could see her eyes gleam.

‘You won’t mention it, will you? Especially not to Astrid. I think Astrid and Owen, you know… But I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’ I struck the side of my head lightly. ‘Stupid me.’

She put a hand on my shoulder. Her manicured nails shone scarlet on my blue shirt. ‘Not stupid at all, my dear Davy.’

I gave Pippa’s thong and Astrid’s lip-gloss from the parcel to Melanie, who behaved as though I’d given her a diamond ring. I decided I’d use Owen’s condoms. And I started to watch everyone in the house with a new vigilance. I saw that everything was gathering to a head. The police wouldn’t think it was a coincidence that Astrid was at both murders. They wouldn’t understand how that had come about, how she had become my fate, my beloved destiny. But they would scrutinize her and everyone in her life. I had to be ahead of them.

Above all, I watched Astrid until I felt that there was nothing I didn’t know about her. What was in her drawers, what texts were on her mobile, how many times a week she washed her hair, what shampoo and conditioner she used, what deodorant and face cream, whom she met after work, what vegetables she planted in her garden and how many times a day she watered and weeded the small plot. Once or twice, while looking in her purse, I helped myself to some money. I knew her gestures and habits: the way she pushed her hair back impatiently, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, how she would kick off her shoes and tuck her long legs under her on the armchair, how she would blow on her coffee twice before sipping it, the colour of the varnish on her toenails. I stored every piece of information inside me. I had to be ready.