Catherine Steadman - Something in the Water - A Novel

“Right, darling, I’m off then. Take care.” And with a cheery hand raise, he’s away.

“Um, thank you, Simon!” I call after him. I don’t know why. I have to say something, don’t I? I can’t just stand in silence as he strides back toward his black Mercedes with my diamonds in the palm of his hand.

An extremely large bunch of flowers arrives in the morning.

Thanks for your help. Shan’t forget it. E. He’s got style, I’ll give him that. But Mark is less sure.

“It’s not exactly covert, is it?” he asks over breakfast. He’s worried about police surveillance.

“They’re only flowers, Mark. They could be for doing the interview, for all anyone knows. Through a lawyer or something? I’m pretty sure Eddie knows how to cover his tracks at this point in his career. Well, except for the bookkeeping, obviously.” I smile. We’ve done it, after all. Haven’t we? The full payment for the diamonds hit the numbered account at midnight last night. Much more than we expected. Certainly a lot more than I thought we’d ever be able to get by ourselves. Two million. Two. Sterling. I literally cannot keep the smile off my face. Ten grand a pop per stone. Eddie barely took a cut. The payment came from another numbered account. Wherever Eddie’s money is squirreled away, I guess. Great minds think alike.

Mark’s worried.

“I’m sure the gift trail will be well covered from his end, Erin. It’s our end I’m worried about. If SO15 is watching you, they’ll wonder…” He gestures to the massive bouquet. “It’s not exactly low-key, is it?” He has a point, I suppose. The flowers look ridiculously ostentatious.

“But can the police really be monitoring me twenty-four hours a day, Mark? Seriously? Why would they? And how would Eddie not know that?”

“Yes. Potentially yes, they could be, Erin, if they think Holli might contact you. If they notice anything strange. They might be watching you in case she tries to call you, or God forbid shows up on our doorstep.”

“But, why on earth would she do that, Mark? We weren’t exactly close, were we? We met once. I interviewed her for thirty minutes, once. I don’t think the police think that will happen and I don’t think we’re being watched by them. At least not to the extent you think. Maybe they’re monitoring our home phone, but I really feel like that’s something Eddie might have looked into before helping us, something he might have mentioned. He’s not an idiot. If SO15 is watching us, I think we’d be aware of it by now. If anything, I feel like Eddie’s presence is protecting us from a lot of things right now.”

Mark looks distractedly out the window, watching the rain, his thoughts whirring away, silently.

Why isn’t Mark happy?

I tentatively touch his arm across the table. “It’s done. We have all the bag money. It’s safe. With the paper money and the diamonds combined, we have just under three million pounds. Untraceable. Completely secure. We did it, Mark. We actually did it!” I look at him, expectant.

A smile breaks across his face. A small one.

I squeeze his arm.

His smile widens to a grin.

He nods, reaching for his mug of tea. “I’m pleased it worked out, I am. Obviously! But, Erin, you can’t do any more stuff like this. You just can’t. It’s worked out this time, but no more, right? No more risks. We’re done now?” He is happy, of course, but I worry him and I can’t blame him for not trusting me, really. I have been keeping secrets. And there were definitely a couple of moments there when I thought he might be right, that I might have gone too far. But now the money’s in the bank.

“Yes. Yes, I’m done now. I promise. There’s nothing more to take risks for.” I lean across the table and plant a kiss on his warm lips. I can tell he’s not entirely convinced, but he smiles and kisses me back. He wants things the way they were. Hopefully, we can go back to that now. Finally.

But no sooner does that thought settle in than I remember. Those loose ends, up in the attic. A trail of evidence leading all the way back to the bottom of the South Pacific.

It isn’t quite over yet.

“But—what should we do with the phone, Mark? The USB? Should we dump them? They’re the only link back to us. We need to finish things properly, don’t we? We don’t want loose ends.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as the realization sinks in; we’re not quite finished. He’d forgotten them. “Damn. Okay, let’s think.”

He takes a moment, gazes through the rain-speckled window out into the wet garden. “Maybe we should keep the phone. Just in case. There’s no harm in keeping it. And if anything ever happens, we’ll have it as evidence of who these people are. Or leverage against them. Not that I’m saying we’ll need it but, maybe, just for insurance.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “You know what? No. We’ll dump it too. Dump it all: the USB and the phone; we need them out of the house. In case, for any reason, the police want to search the house. We need it all out of our lives.” His tone is firm. There will be no further discussion of this. And that’s okay with me. I’m done now. All done. Three million done.

“Perhaps we can drive up to Norfolk together, right now, stay the night, take out a boat in the morning, and drop them into the sea. Make a day of it, the last loose ends?” I suggest.

His expression doesn’t change. I feel a tug of fear.

I continue. “We need to dump them somewhere, right? We could stay up there a few days. It would be nice to get away. To just be together for a while. We need it. I miss you. I miss us.”

He gets up and walks around the table and cups my face in his hands. He kisses me on the lips, ever so gently.

“I love that idea. It feels like a long time ago, just you and me, the honeymoon.”

I know what he means. Our real honeymoon, before the bag came along, before it turned into something else. All I want right now is just to be near him. I miss my skin on his skin. I miss the closeness.

“If we go up to Norfolk today, then that’s it. The phone and the flash drive are the last things, and it’s done after we’ve got rid of them. Finished,” I promise. “We can go back to the way we were. But better, because this time we’ll never have to worry about money again.”

Mark will never have to worry about losing everything ever again. He’ll never have to worry about having to work in a bar or stack shelves ever again. Up in Norfolk, I can finally tell him about our baby.

He looks down at me, studying my face; there’s a ghost of sadness in his eyes. I suppose he’s not convinced I’ve truly decided to stop being so reckless. Perhaps we can’t get back to where we were? I need to prove to him that I am focused on us now, so I press him: “We need the time together, Mark. Please?”

His eyes fill almost imperceptibly and suddenly I realize how much I’ve pushed him away over the past few weeks. I have very nearly broken this thing we have. This bond needs to be handled with care, nursed back to health. He stoops down again and kisses my forehead. “I know. And as much as I love the idea, honey, I can’t go away today. You know that. Remember?”

Oh God, I totally forgot. He told me this last week. He mentioned it. I feel awful. As if I didn’t feel awful enough already. He’s flying to New York this afternoon, an overnight stay. I wasn’t listening properly when he said it, obviously. I wonder what else I’ve totally missed. I am the worst wife. He’s meeting new clients in New York City all day tomorrow and then traveling straight back that evening on the overnight flight. A literal flying visit.