Shaun Hutson - Warhol's Prophecy

‘That isn’t a good enough reason,’ Hailey persisted. ‘There must have been more to it.’

‘Did you feel that there was something missing from your relationship with Hailey?’ Marie enquired.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Look, you could strap me into an electric chair now and ask me why I did it, and I still couldn’t tell you. You’d have to throw the switch. I never fell out of love with you – ’ he looked towards Hailey – ‘I never fell in love with Sandy. I was never going to leave you. I never wanted to.’

‘Did she want you to?’ Hailey demanded.

‘She knew exactly where she stood. She knew there was no future in it.’

‘Yeah, I bet she did,’ Hailey hissed. ‘She knew you were married, so why the hell couldn’t she leave you alone, find someone single? Or did she keep nagging away at you because she knew you’d give in? Did she know you were weak, too?’

Rob shot her an angry glance.

‘I know what I did was wrong,’ he replied furiously. ‘How many fucking times do I have to say sorry? If I said it every minute of every day, every day for the rest of my life, it wouldn’t alter what’s happened, would it?’

‘Do you wish you could change what happened, Rob?’ Marie interjected.

He nodded.

‘Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,’ Hailey muttered.

‘Yeah, I wish I could change what happened,’ Rob said. ‘I wish things could just be the way they were between us before all this shit.’

‘Shit that you started,’ Hailey reminded him.

Again he glared at her.

‘That’s what makes me sick,’ Hailey continued. ‘You were the one who had the affair, and yet you’re the one who’s angry. Why?’

‘Because I want things between us to go back to the way they were. I hate this arguing, sniping all the time. Every time we have an argument you throw it back in my fucking face.’

‘What do you expect?’

‘Is that true, Rob?’ Marie wanted to know. ‘Are you angry? There certainly seems to be a lot of aggression inside you. Who is it directed at? Hailey?’

‘It should be directed at her ,’ Hailey spat. ‘At that fucking whore.’

‘It’s not just her fault: it takes two to tango.’

‘See, you’re doing it again. You always defend her.’

‘I’m not defending her. I’m just trying to tell you what I feel, what I believe. I went after her. ’

‘Then she should have told you to clear off, since she knew you were married. But she wouldn’t do that, would she? Being chatted up by the boss, being taken out for lunch, being taken away for weekends. Why should she give all that up? God, she must have thought you were her dream come true.’

‘I don’t know what she thought. I don’t care what she thought.’

‘Do you think your marriage is worth saving, Rob?’ Marie asked.

‘Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here,’ he told her.

‘I’ve told you before, you have to accept that there’s been a lot of pain and that things won’t go back to normal overnight. They’ll probably never go back to the way they were before this happened. Your relationship will grow stronger if you let it; it’ll just have a different shape.’

‘Yeah, a fucking pear-shape,’ Rob murmured, stubbing out his cigarette.

‘How long did you expect it to take before things got better between you?’ Marie asked.

Rob shook his head.

‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ he confessed. ‘Some days things are fine: we manage to get through a whole day and night without all this shit being raked up. And on other days it just goes on and on.’

‘At least you’re off at work,’ Hailey snapped. ‘I’m stuck at home with the time to think about it, time to wonder if you’re chatting up that bloody tart while you’re there together in the office, wondering what you’re saying to her.’

‘Then stop thinking about it.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake . . .’ Hailey shook her head despairingly.

She saw Marie glance at the wall clock behind them.

Time up.

They’d been there for their allotted hour.

Doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun?

Hailey was first to get to her feet, running a hand through her brown hair and exhaling deeply.

They made an appointment for the same time the following week, said their goodbyes, then headed out to the small car park where the Audi was waiting.

As Hailey clambered into the passenger seat, she thought how cold it had grown. How chilly the night air was.

She looked briefly at Rob as he started the engine.

As he did, the cassette burst into life too, the lyrics echoing inside the car.

‘ . . . Will you be there, am I the one who waits for you, or are you unforgiven too? . . . ’

They didn’t speak during the drive home.

8

THE SILENCE WAS oppressive.

Broken only by the steady click-click of Hailey’s high heels on the polished floor of the corridor, it seemed to surround her like a blanket.

She walked slowly, eyes fixed ahead, not glancing left or right, concerned only with the door at the far end of the corridor. It was dark wood polished so vigorously it practically shone.

Hailey paused at the door and wondered whether or not she should knock.

As she waited, she turned and looked behind her.

The corridor was empty.

It was filled only with that deafening silence.

She shifted slowly from one foot to the other, embarrassed by the noise her heels made on the floor. She raised herself up onto her toes to minimize the tattoo they clattered out. She tapped gently on the door, then walked in without invitation.

The room was barely twenty feet square and, if anything, the silence here was even more palpable than out in the corridor.

Red velvet curtains were draped across the far wall, and between them was suspended a large wooden cross. On either side of it two candles burned, their flames unmoved by the slightest breeze.

There were two tables inside the room, the occupant of each covered by a heavy black cloth.

Hailey tried to suck in a breath, but the air seemed as static as it was noiseless. At least her heels made no sound on the thick carpet as she moved towards the first of the tables.

She thrust out a hand and gripped the edge of the dark cloth, preparing to ease it back, but also afraid to.

She closed her eyes so tightly that white stars danced behind her lids, and she tried again to breathe deeply.

Hailey lifted the cloth . . .

Becky’s body seemed a mass of dark blue, violet and yellow bruises. Hardly an inch of flesh seemed to have escaped the massive onslaught – not even her face. The skin around her eyes was so swollen that the orbs seemed to have sunk down into the skull itself. Those few areas of her body that weren’t discoloured looked as white as milk.

Two jagged cuts bisected her throat: hacked so deeply into the flesh that her head was practically severed. The two savage gashes joined to form one bloodied chasm that, to Hailey’s tortured gaze, looked like another mouth smiling obscenely up at her.

She wanted to scream, wanted to cry out, but it was as if her emotions were as paralysed as her larynx. All she could do was stare helplessly at Becky’s body. She wanted so much to touch it. To hold it one last time. Embrace it. Kiss those ragged, torn lips, to say sorry.

Sorry for letting her get lost in the crowded shopping centre.

Sorry that she couldn’t help her now.

Hailey felt a solitary tear run down her cheek.

She turned towards the second table, pulling the cloth away with more certainty.

There were two bodies on this one.