Алекс Баркли - I Confess

‘We’re fucked,’ said Murph. ‘So it’s not.’ He arced the torch to the marks on the opposite wall. ‘It’s down there!’ he said. ‘It has to be!’ He pointed to a stack of beams underneath. ‘Quick, quick, quick. Tear them the fuck down.’

Smoke was billowing up from the corner, rising into the roof, drifting across it.

‘Laura, get down that end. We’ll lift them. Go, go, go.’

‘Wait!’ said Laura. ‘Wait.’ She got into position. ‘OK... now go.’

Murph started to heave them off.

‘Slow down!’ said Laura. ‘Slow down!’

‘Tough,’ said Murph. ‘The smoke’ll get us. Go, go, go.’

They started again, but Laura stopped, bent over, coughing.

‘Get up t’fuck!’ said Murph. ‘We don’t have time. Keep going. Come on.’

They started again. Behind them, the flames were spreading. Their eyes were red, and streaming.

‘Stand back,’ said Murph. ‘I’m toppling the lot.’ He crouched down to the bottom of the stack and yanked two beams towards him, stepping back as the beams above were sent clattering on to the floor. He bent down, and started sliding them forward.

‘We’ve got it, we’ve got it,’ he said. ‘Motherfucker.’

The chapel was filling with smoke that was getting thicker and blacker, carrying a horrible stench with it. Murph looked at Laura standing at the other side of the fallen beams, bent over, coughing into the crook of her elbow.

‘Cross over to me!’ he said. ‘Careful.’ He started to cough. ‘We’re getting out of here, we’re getting out.’

A burst of flames shot across the altar behind Laura, and sent her scrambling towards him, across the beams.

‘No!’ said Murph, standing up. ‘Don’t! They won’t stay—’

Laura took two more steps, then looked up at Murph halfway through her third, her eyes bright with panic. Her foot fell between two beams that clamped it between them as she fell in the opposite direction, crying out as her ankle cracked, and again when she landed, her wrist smacking off a sharp edge. She lay on her back, moaning.

Murph was about to scramble across to her, but he stopped himself. He crouched down and pushed apart the beams that trapped her ankle. ‘OK... Laura. I’m used to ignoring your moaning,’ he said as he walked away.’ I know you’re in agony, but I have to keep going here to get this fucking thing cleared, so I’m not even going to look at you, but you’re going to roll over and crawl over to me like it’s 1992 after a bottle of whatever that shite was and by the time I’ve got this thing open, you better be right befuckinghindme.’

He coughed into his arm and started pulling the beams away from the metal plate. Behind him, Laura rolled on to her stomach, and started to move towards him.

‘Got it!’ he said. ‘Got it! You better be moving back there.’ He paused. ‘Title of your sex tape.’

Laura coughed and laughed and kept moving towards him. Murph hooked his fingers into the two metal rings, heaving off the top. There was a grate underneath. He got his fingers under the edges and pulled it up.

He felt a hand brush against his lower back. He turned around. Laura was lying on her side behind him, her face scrunched up in pain, her finger hooked into the waistband of his jeans.

‘Right in the crack of my arse,’ he said. ‘That’s my girl.’

Behind them, flames bloomed from the altar carpet and illuminated the chapel again. There was a heavy trail of blood along the beams behind Laura. Murph’s eyes went wide. He lowered his hand gently on to her side. Laura looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back.

‘Right,’ said Murph. ‘I’m dropping down into whatever the fuck is down here and then you’re going to slide over and do the same. Except I’ll be down there... waiting for a star to fall.’

Patrick arrived back at the door to the suite. It was locked. The curtains were drawn. He slammed his hand against the glass.

‘You fucking bitch!’ he said. He looked on the ground around him. Then he turned and ran over to a pile of earth, and picked up a rock from beside it, and lined up the sharpest edge. He went back and tapped it against the bottom corners of the right-hand door until it shattered.

He stepped through, swiping the curtain back angrily, pulling some of it away from the rail. He glanced at Helen’s wheelchair, upturned to his right. To his left, there were trails of mud leading to the en suite bathroom door. He tried the handle. It was locked. He put his ear to the door.

‘I didn’t want you to see that — what happened with Edie,’ said Patrick. ‘I don’t even know why.’ He unzipped his jacket and took out his car keys. There was a supermarket trolley token hanging from his key ring. He crouched down at the en suite door. Under the keyhole was a metal safety lock with a groove at the centre. He slid the token in and turned it. The lock clicked open. He stood up and pushed in the door. Helen was sitting on the floor against the bath, the knees and the hem of her nightdress soaked in mud.

‘Why?’ sobbed Helen. ‘Why did you have to do that? Why? She would have lied for you. She promised you she would. You knew she would.’

Patrick made a face. ‘Have you ever broken someone’s heart?’

‘No,’ said Helen.

‘At the beginning,’ said Patrick, ‘especially if it’s a sudden and brutal end — the person whose heart you have broken will do anything to make the pain go away. They will promise you anything. And they’ll keep those promises — through all the stages of grief... up to “anger”. Because anger can go anywhere. And anger mutates. And if it turns into hatred? Well, a useful hatred is more powerful than a wasted love. And that’s when it gets dangerous. Promises are the first thing a woman will burn on the bonfire of her ex.’

‘What makes you think you broke her heart?’ said Helen.

‘Because I told her so many times how she ticked every single box on my wish list. And then she found my wish list.’

A frown flickered on Helen’s face.

‘I wouldn’t ask either,’ said Patrick. ‘Now, let’s get you back to bed.’

‘Wh-what?’ said Helen, struggling to control the sobs.

‘Exactly that,’ said Patrick. ‘What’s the best way to do this?’ He looked through the doorway. ‘The wheelchair?’

Helen was sobbing and nodding, wiping her eyes.

‘I can walk.’ said Helen. She started to get up. Patrick went over and gently took her elbow, helping her to her feet. She glanced up at him. He was looking straight ahead.

As they walked past the red emergency pull cord, Helen reached out and yanked it hard.

The alarm rang out, loud and piercing. Patrick dropped Helen to the ground, and stared down at her, his eyes wide.

‘Oh, Helen,’ he said. ‘Oh, Helen, oh Helen, oh Helen.’ He stepped over her, went into the bathroom, hit the reset button, and everything went quiet.

Helen lay sobbing on the floor. Patrick crouched down and pulled her up. She let her legs go limp.

‘You’re not making this easy,’ he said, dragging her to the bed. He wedged her against it as he reached over and threw the duvet back wider. Then he rolled her up on to the bed, shifted her body across and settled her head on to the pillows. He sat down and rested his hand on the folded-down cover.

‘I’m going to ignore that,’ he said. ‘They’re irresistible, pull cords. I always want to pull one to see what happens.’ He paused. ‘Now, I know. Fuck all if someone can reach the reset button. Definitely fuck all if the owners of the establishment are dead.’

Helen sobbed quietly.

‘Relax,’ said Patrick. ‘Relax. I’d hardly be making you comfortable if I was going to kill you.’