by C. L. Taylor
‘Stop!’ Gareth says, making Ursula jump. ‘Ed. That’s your name, right? Whatever your problem is with Simon we can sort it out without anyone getting hurt.’
‘Ha.’ Ed laughs dryly. ‘Trained in hostage negotiation, are you? When I want a washed-up security guard to speak I’ll ask you. You’ll keep your mouth shut if you’ve got any sense.’ His gaze flicks back towards Simon. ‘And you’d better start talking if you want this to end.’
‘Okay … okay. I’m talking.’ Simon’s shoulder knocks against Ursula’s as he shifts position. ‘What is it you want?’
‘I want you to stand up, open the window behind you and jump.’
‘Why?’
‘Please,’ Kath says from the end of the row. ‘Just let my daughter go. She’s got nothing to do with this and you’re really scaring—’
‘We can all go home once Simon does what he’s told,’ Ed snaps. ‘What’s it to be then, Si?’
‘I … you can’t … I don’t know why you’re doing this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done.’
‘Don’t you?’ Ed snorts. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. How many people’s lives have you ruined, Simon? How many people have killed themselves because of your practical jokes? Any idea? One? Ten? Fifty? Any idea, or don’t you care?’
Ursula sneaks a sideways glance at Simon. His blond hair is slicked with sweat at the temples and a tendon is pulsing in his cheek.
‘I … I … I don’t know … I don’t know of any. I never … I never meant to hurt anyone. I didn’t—’
‘I’d say one was enough, wouldn’t you?’
Ursula sees Alice’s horrified eyes flick towards Simon.
‘I’m sorry,’ Simon says. ‘Whatever it is you think I’ve done … if I’d have known … if someone had told me I’d—’
‘You’d have done what? Invented a time machine? Rewound time so my brother didn’t kill himself? So you didn’t ring him on your show to claim you found rat droppings in your soup?’
Simon’s expression changes.
‘Ah, so you do remember. In which case you’ll also remember that he lost his shit with you down the phone. He told you you’d find worse than rat droppings in your soup if you ever visited the restaurant again. That it wouldn’t be the first time he’d got his revenge on a customer by—’
‘I didn’t … I wouldn’t—’
‘Don’t interrupt me! Any idea how much trade dropped off after that? How rumours went around Bristol to avoid the Fattened Calf because they had a poor hygiene record? How my brother was sacked when he was just on the verge of getting a Michelin star? How he couldn’t get a job anywhere else so he had to work in a fucking service station kitchen? How he couldn’t even bring himself to cook at home any more? Do you have any idea what that did to him? Do you? Of course not. You didn’t give it a second thought because, to you, it was just a prank. Ha fucking ha.’
As Ed continues to rant, Ursula watches with horror as his grip tightens around Alice’s neck. She’s lost so much blood she’s gone limp in his arms. Ursula feels a wave of panic course through her. Ed’s not going to let any of them out of there until he gets what he wants.
‘I know what it feels like to lose someone,’ she says.
Ed’s gaze swivels from Simon to her, his eyes small and dark beyond the glint of his glasses. ‘Did I ask you to speak?’
‘No.’ She shifts position, from her bum to her knees, her bound hands held out in front of her. ‘No, you didn’t. But I understand … Ed, I know how much it hurts to lose someone you love.’
‘Sit down,’ Ed snaps as she struggles to her feet. Ursula ignores him. A strange, tense silence falls on the rest of the group as though they’re all holding their breath.
‘I lost the love of my life,’ she says as she slowly steps towards her housemate. ‘He was beaten to death and instead of helping him fight, I ran away.’
Ed shrugs, unmoved.
‘No, you don’t care, do you?’ Ursula says. ‘But you cared about your brother. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?’ She’s less than a metre away from him now, her palms are sticky and she’s sweating beneath her thick coat. ‘You want Simon to hurt as much as you hurt. But it won’t help you. I looked the men who killed Nathan in the eye. I testified against them and helped them get sent to prison for a very long time. I thought it would help. I thought I’d feel better. But it didn’t. Nathan’s still dead and he’s never coming back.’
‘Sit down.’
A bead of sweat rolls down Ursula’s back as she holds out her bound hands. ‘Give me the knife.’ The sharp crack of Edward’s laughter makes her jump, but she keeps her hand outstretched.
‘Killing Simon isn’t going to bring your brother back.’
‘No, but at least Simon will be dead.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ursula says. ‘I’m sorry you lost your brother. I’m sorry you’re in so much pain.’
For several seconds Ed doesn’t say a word. His eyes grow soft and misty beneath the hard sheen of his glasses and the tension in Ursula’s chest eases. She’s getting through to him. All he needed was for someone to tell him that they understood.
‘Is it Nick?’ she asks. ‘Your brother? His name’s carved into the windowsill in my room.’
Ed nods.
‘He wouldn’t want you to do this. He wouldn’t want Simon to die or for you to go to prison.’
‘How do you …’ Ed’s voice breaks and he swallows ‘… how do you know?’
‘Because he sounds like he was a good person.’
Ed says nothing, but his eyes don’t leave hers. She’s getting through to him, she can feel it.
‘Give me the knife, Ed,’ she says softly. ‘Please. For Nick.’
Edward stifles a sob and, as he lowers the knife from Alice’s throat, Ursula’s heart leaps. He’s going to do it. He’s going to give her the knife. She leans towards him, reaching for it, the muscles in her arms tensed and straining.
‘You’re doing the right thing,’ she whispers.
The force of Ed’s laughter is like a punch to the gut and she recoils, her hands pressed to her belly.
‘Really, Ursula? Really? I’m sorry. I can’t keep it up. It’s too funny.’
‘But …’ she stares at him, unable to reconcile the twisted smile on his face with the look of utter devastation she witnessed just seconds ago ‘… but what about your brother?’
Edward laughs again as he returns the blade of the knife to Alice’s throat. ‘Nick was the arsehole who squatted in my spare room. You put two and two together and made “doesn’t actually exist”. There is no brother. There was no suicide.’
‘What?’
‘I made it all up. I thought it would be fun to see who’d feel sorry for me, and you fell for it. Honestly, Ursula, I thought you were cleverer than that.’
Ursula stares down at him, too shocked to speak. He’s completely lost the plot. ‘I don’t. I don’t understand.’
‘There is no brother. I’m the chef Simon rang, you stupid bint. Now, sit down. You’re spoiling my fun. Sit … down,’ Ed says again and she retreats, stepping backwards, her eyes not leaving his face until someone touches the back of her calf and guides her back to her spot on the floor. She told him about Nathan. She opened her heart and he laughed in her face.
Simon, beside her, sits up taller. As he moves, something sharp digs into Ursula’s side. ‘So it was you,’ he says to Edward. ‘You were the head chef at the Fattened Calf that I rang. Or is that bullshit too?’
‘What was bullshit was what you did to me. You ruined my career. In one single phone call you destroyed everything I’d worked for since I was sixteen and you did it all in the name of entertainment. And you never apologised. Not you, not the station. No one. You couldn’t have given two shits. But I’m done talking. On with the show. Seeing as Simon is such a reluctant player it seems as though I’m going to have to add to the cast.’
Ursula hears the note of warning in Ed’s voice a
nd looks up.
‘You.’ He points to Kath. ‘Get your kid to open the window above Simon. If she even thinks about shouting for help I’ll push her out myself.’
‘No. Not Georgia.’ Kath tightens her grip on her daughter, pulling her head into her shoulder. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Are you going to make me repeat myself?’
‘It’s too high. She won’t be able to reach.’
‘There are stools over there.’ Ed inclines his head towards the shoe racks. ‘Use one.’
‘No.’ Georgia starts to cry. ‘No, Mum, I don’t want to. Mum, please, I’m scared.’
As Edward shouts at her to shut up, Ursula runs her hand over the sharp object that jabbed itself into her as Simon shifted position. There’s something in the pocket of her coat. Something hard and sharp that she stole from her landlord a few days ago. Gareth glances at her as she twists to one side, wincing as she wriggles her bound hands into her pocket. Her fingers close around the dart and she awkwardly eases it out. He nudges her.
‘Give it to me.’
Ursula shakes her head and clumsily slides the dart behind her to the small patch of flooring between her bum and the wall.
‘Please,’ Gareth hisses as Georgia slowly walks past them, a clothes rail wobbling under the weight of her footsteps as she heads for the stools. ‘I can do this.’
Ursula shakes her head again, but Gareth reaches behind her before she can stop him, and when she feels for the dart it’s gone.
No one says a word as a sobbing Georgia clambers onto the stool and reaches for the catch at the base of the window. When the frame swings out Ursula holds her breath, willing the girl not to speak. Distant sounds drift into the shop – sirens, traffic horns and the rumble of a bus or truck – but Georgia doesn’t say a word as she steps down and runs straight back to her mum.
Edward nods at Simon. ‘Off you go.’
A muscle pulses in Simon’s jaw as he slowly gets to his feet.
‘Simon!’ Alice gasps. ‘Simon, no!’
Ursula glances at Gareth, her palms sticky on the cold wooden floor. If he attacks Edward with the dart now, with the blade of the knife held under Alice’s chin, she could be dead before he even gets close. She coughs lightly to try and get Gareth’s attention but he doesn’t so much as flinch. There’s only one person everyone’s focused on and that’s the man with the knife in his hand.
‘Time to jump, to entertain the plebs for the last time.’ Edward stares at Simon and tilts his head in the direction of the window. ‘What’s a little public humiliation between friends?’
‘No,’ Simon says. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
A wry smile plays on Edward’s lips. ‘You mustn’t have heard me. I told you to jump.’
Simon opens his arms wide. ‘You’ve got the knife. If you want me dead I’m here. Or do you always hide behind women?’
Edward’s laughter rings out in the room. ‘You must think I’m stupid. Get on that fucking stool.’
‘No.’
Ursula holds her breath as he takes a step towards Edward. Simon’s an arsehole. It’s Alice’s life he’s playing with, not his.
‘Stay where you are,’ Ed says, ‘or I’ll cut her throat.’
‘You’re not going to do that. You want me dead, not her.’
‘Doesn’t matter to me either way. She’s a liar like you.’ Ed’s eyes glitter behind the circular frames of his glasses. He presses the knife deeper into Alice’s chin, which makes her groan and tip back her head. ‘If she dies you’ll spend the rest of your life blaming yourself. And if you die then …’ He shrugs. ‘Either way, I win.’
‘Don’t do it, Simon,’ Alice says, her voice little more than a whisper.
‘No?’ Ed tilts his head to one side. ‘Are you sure about that Alice? Because if he jumps I’ll let you have your mobile phone back. You can ring your daughter, warn her not to drink the bottle of wine I left on your doorstep.’
Simon frowns. ‘What bottle of wine?’
‘My little back-up plan, in case you didn’t show up here. Well, when I say “wine” it’s ninety-eight percent wine. The other two per cent isn’t going to give you a headache when you wake up the next morning. Mostly because you won’t wake up at all.’
‘Emily!’ Alice cries as she struggles to get out of Edward’s grip, her bloodied fingers striping the skin of his forearm. ‘She’ll drink it! Simon, she’ll drink it!’
‘Still think he shouldn’t jump?’ Edward asks, pressing the tip of the knife back into her cheek. ‘If he does I’ll give you your phone back. You can ring her, or 999. Either way it’s not too late. Not yet anyway.’
Alice suddenly becomes very still, her gaze fixed on Simon’s face.
‘Who do you choose?’ Ed asks. ‘Your daughter or your boyfriend?’
‘No.’ She shakes her head lightly. ‘No, no.’
‘Your daughter or your boyfriend. Who’s going to die?’
‘It’s okay, Alice,’ Simon says softly. ‘It’s okay.’
Ed’s smile widens. ‘Are you going to choose for her then?’
As Simon falters, Ursula becomes aware of Alice staring at her. Alice blinks slowly and deliberately then her gaze flicks towards Ursula’s feet and she blinks again. Her eyes travel to the broken clothes rail. Another blink. The dart in Gareth’s clenched hand. Blink. A sideways glance towards Ed’s stomach. As she blinks for the fifth time Ursula inhales sharply. She understands what she’s telling her to do.
Ursula gently nudges Gareth, indicating with her eyes that he should look at Alice.
As his eyes swivel towards her, Alice does it again. She looks at Ursula’s feet, blinks, the clothes rail, blinks, Gareth’s hand, blinks and then Edward’s stomach. Gareth’s brow wrinkles with confusion then he raises his eyebrows as what he’s seeing sinks in.
‘No?’ Ed says, still focused on Simon. ‘You’re not going to do the valiant thing? Ah, fuck it. I’ll choose. Sorry, Alice. You and your daughter are both dead.’
Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Ursula kicks out at the clothes rail, Ed loosens his grip on Alice’s neck as it crashes to the ground, and Gareth barrels towards him, head down and arms spread wide. As he buries the dart under Ed’s ribs, Alice twists free. A split second later the two men tumble to the ground. Gareth’s on top, his knees either side of Ed’s hips. He leans his weight into Ed’s left shoulder and reaches for the knife in his outstretched right hand. Ursula holds her breath as Gareth’s fingers creep nearer and nearer her landlord’s wrist. Just a few more centimetres and he’ll smash Ed’s hand against the floor and release the knife. Gareth grunts in frustration. He can’t quite get there. He’s heavier than Ed but they’re similar heights and Ed’s more supple. He’s holding the knife just out of reach. Gareth shifts to his left, gritting his teeth as his fingers slide along Ed’s right arm. As he inches closer he has no choice but to release the pressure on Edward’s left shoulder.
BAM! The heel of Ed’s hand smashes into Gareth’s chin. He reels back, arms whirling, but he doesn’t move from Ed’s hips. As Gareth shakes his head sharply, still reeling from the blow, Ed sits up, the knife glinting as he angles it towards Gareth’s chest. Screams fill the shop as Gareth grabs Edward’s wrist then the two men tip to the side as they wrestle for control of the knife. There’s a tangle of arms and legs as they twist and thrash and pant and grunt, the blade hidden between their locked bodies. Then there’s blood. More blood than Ursula has ever seen.
Chapter 53
Joan
Movement in the corner of her eye makes Joan turn her head. A robin is hopping around in the undergrowth, a little red and brown dumpling of a bird, his feathers puffed out to keep warm. Joan smiles. She’s always loved robins. There’s something about their beady little black eyes, sweet little chirp and the curious cock of their heads that makes her think they’re cleverer than other birds. Braver too. John managed to tame one in their garden. He had it eating seeds out of the palm of his hand.
/> Joan shivers in her best M&S coat and hitches her handbag over her shoulder. It’s getting dark on Brandon Hill and she needs to get home. It’s the strangest thing but she’s not entirely sure what she’s doing standing there or how she arrived. She glances to her right, craning her neck to gaze up at Cabot Tower. It looms over the park, its red sandstone body and cream Bath Stone ornamentation faded to grey in the dark. As a child she thought of it as Rapunzel’s tower with its jutting balconies, flying buttresses and the winged figure sitting on the top. It was where John proposed to her, back in 1962. She hadn’t wanted to move after their lovely picnic lunch but he’d insisted they climb the tower and admire the view. After some needling she’d finally relented and when they reached the top she was pink-cheeked and puffing with her hair clinging to the back of her neck. She’d barely got her breath back when John dropped to one knee. She heard a gasp of surprise from a lady to her right, a giggle from someone to her left, and then it was as though everyone was holding their breath and all she could hear was John’s voice and the faint whistle of the wind.
Is it their anniversary? Is that why she’s here? For years they marked their special day with a pilgrimage to Cabot Tower, just the two of them at first, then later with Gareth in their arms. Where is Gareth? She looks around for her son but there’s no one else there. Just her and the robin, still hopping and observing, keeping an eye on her, never straying very far away.
Joan presses a hand to her mouth as she yawns. She’s very tired. She can’t remember ever being as tired as this. She wants to lie down, just for a moment. She needs to close her eyes and catch her breath.
The robin hops away from her, deeper into the undergrowth. It turns, looks at her with its little beady eye and tilts it head.
‘This way,’ it seems to say. ‘Follow me.’
Joan reaches under her body to dislodge a pebble from her hip, then she places her handbag beneath her head and pulls her coat over her shoulders like a blanket. The cold ground is a long way from the comfy bed she shares with John but it will do, for now. She reaches out a hand from the coat and touches the soil. Still hard, but there are bulbs beneath it, daffodils, crocuses and tulips, all waiting for the spring. It’s amazing really, she thinks as she closes her eyes; all that life, just waiting to burst through.