C.J. Skuse - In Bloom

‘You brought my doughnuts yet?’ I called out to him.

‘You were serious about that?’

‘Of course,’ I smiled, gliding through the garden gate. Oh boy was I working it today. On the other side I turned back to him and he smiled like we were sharing a secret.

Gusset dryness = history.

Wednesday, 1st August – 12 weeks, 3 days

Drove myself back to the flat to pick up the last of my stuff – only had to stop once on the motorway to vom at the roadside. Otherwise, uneventful.

The flat is all but empty – most of Craig’s stuff has gone into storage. AJ’s blood dot remains – barely visible to the human eye, but to the psychopath’s eye, there’s no mistaking it. Looks more brown than red now.

Mrs Whittaker’s moved out – gone to live in Margate with her sister Betty. She ‘can’t be trusted to live on her own anymore’, so Leafblower Ron informed me in the lift, as he coiled his extension lead around his elbow.

‘Has anyone else moved in there then?’ I asked.

‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘But the cleaners went in yesterday so I suppose the agent’s found someone.’

‘It’s probably for the best,’ I said, trying not to think about the night I cut him up in that bathtub. The foetus doesn’t like it.

I like thinking about my daddy being alive, not cut into six pieces on an old woman’s lino .

Afterwards, I bought some Rice Krispie cakes and a bunch of pink gerberas and roses and went round to Lana’s flat. I took a chance that she still lived in the one above the charity shop in the precinct and lo and behold, when I rang the bell at the side entrance, she came to the door. She nearly slammed it in my face but I put my hand out at the last moment.

‘Please, Lana, please let me in. I’ve come to apologise.’

She pulled the door back slightly so that I saw for the first time the extent of my handiwork. She was purple from her forehead to her chin – I almost laughed but stopped myself in time.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t press charges,’ I said. ‘You should have.’

‘Yeah, well,’ she said. ‘I figured I owed you that at least.’

‘Thank you. I truly am desperately sorry. I brought cakes.’

She opened the door wider and I followed her up the narrow staircase – think Anne Frank’s house with junk mail and stair rods.

I passed her bedroom – the door was ajar, the duvet unmade, clumps of clothes dotted around the floor – knickers, socks, some hideous pyjama bottoms covered in Minions, a dressing gown draped across the bed. The bed where she’d moaned in my boyfriend’s hot ear and bitten his lobe as her vagina gripped his penis and he slid into her so many times…

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said, ushering me through to the lounge. Each of the worktops in the poky beige kitchen was covered in debris – side plates with hardened puddles of butter, smudged glasses, sticky cutlery, greasy frying pans, and saucepans ingrained with old scrambled egg.

‘How are things at the Gazette ?’ I asked when she brought a mug of tea in. There was a purple fleece throw on the sofa, all rumpled into a nest where she’d been sitting watching Bargain Hunt . I sat in the armchair.

‘They’ve put me on gardening leave,’ she said, sitting down and wrapping herself in the blanket. ‘Got someone in to replace me already.’

‘I know the feeling,’ I said.

‘Katie Drucker?’ she said. ‘Yeah she’s, well, malleable. You know Linus is back after his eye operation? Daren’t be off sick for any length of time in that place. Someone will jump in your grave. Do you think you’ll go back?’

‘No, don’t think so. I feel quite free actually.’

‘I miss it,’ she said.

‘So shall we talk about the elephant in the room or shall we let it quietly shit itself in the corner?’

Lana took a breath and put her mug down on the table. ‘I can’t believe Craig’s capable of doing those things.’

‘I don’t know anymore,’ I said, putting my mug down too. ‘I don’t want to believe it but the evidence, Lana.’

‘But on New Year’s Eve at least, he was definitely with me.’

‘All night?’

‘Well no, but—’

‘Where were you, here?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what time did he leave?’

‘After the bongs, about twelve-fifteen?’

‘The police said Daniel Wells was killed between midnight and four. I didn’t hear him come in.’

‘What about the other two?’

‘He said he was out with the boys on February twelfth. Gavin White was killed in the park around ten p.m. The boys said he nipped outside for a fag around that time. It’s possible is all I’m saying.’

‘Oh god. But that woman in the quarry. That wasn’t him, was it?’

‘I don’t know. They found evidence all over the scene.’

‘But he was in London, he couldn’t have killed her.’

‘I’m as stumped as you are,’ I said, catching sight of my lying face in her glass cabinet. ‘All I know is that I’m afraid. I’m afraid if they let him out, he will come after me for not giving him an alibi. He went a tiny bit Scarface because I said I wouldn’t lie for him.’

‘He’s asked me too.’

‘There you go,’ I said.

‘But I was with him on New Year’s. For a bit.’

‘You’ve got to let your conscience be your guide, Lana. I’ve got the baby to think about. What if he’s released and he hurts us?’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay well away from him.’

‘I haven’t seen him for weeks. I wouldn’t, not now.’

‘But you’re going to give him an alibi for New Year’s Eve?’

‘It’s not an alibi, it’s the truth .’

‘You were with him right up until he killed that man and severed his penis. What are the police going to make of that?’

She wringed her hands. ‘I can’t lie to the police.’

‘I’m not saying you should lie. You should think carefully before claiming he was with you all night. Because if he’s going down, he will bring you down too. That’s the kind of guy he is. I know it’s shocking but we have to protect ourselves. Craig’s capable of anything.’

*

I nipped into town after Lana’s to pick up some pregnancy vitamins and Gaviscon from Boots. Saw Claudia at the perfume counter. She didn’t see me.

My auntie Claudia!

I don’t miss the Gazette at all. Why would I? Why would I miss Claudia’s patronising orders and Ron’s letching, and downing tools every hour to make coffee for people too educationally far above me to make their own? Why would I miss the Cuntasaurus Rex Linus Sixgill and his excruciating attempts to be funny? And, for the record, I don’t give a shit that he wears an eye patch now – cancer doesn’t suddenly make an arsehole clean.

I miss the gonk from the top of my computer screen. That’s all I miss.

My daddy gave you that .

I also saw one of the PICSOs, Anni, pushing a buggy out of Debenhams. Anni and Pidge turned out to be quite good friends in the end – both of them went to the police separately to air their suspicions that Craig had been abusive – they’d seen bruises on me, told them of my evasive behaviour when asked about him. But of course, I had The Act to keep up – poor, manipulated, brainwashed girlfriend. Innocent victim. Deny, deny, deny. Pretty soon even they washed their hands of me. People I Can’t Scrape Off were officially – Scraped.

Anyway I managed to avoid both Anni and Claudia and I was so busy avoiding people I knew that I ran straight into someone I didn’t want to know.

Heather – aka the woman with the yellow scarf who I’d mistakenly rescued the night I killed two rapists in a quarry. Today the scarf was mauve. She caught up with me near the floral gardens.