Sixth Victim

by Kate Mitchell

  ‘Do you? I don’t know how to prove it to anyone, except you that I was raped. Not to be believed is almost like saying you don’t exist. I tell them I’m terrified, I can’t cope, the police tell me they will send someone to guard me, which at the moment is again like rape. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘I don’t know what to suggest. Except to forget about what other people think, you can’t control their thoughts.’

  ‘Yes, I know, and I’m not trying to. But to the police, I am not supposed to have a male friend. But I trust William. We are not having sex if that’s what you’re worried about. You won’t tell anyone about him, will you?’

  ‘Of course not. Look, I’m going to leave you two alone together.’

  ‘No, no, please don’t go.’

  ‘I can’t stay here while William is in the house. I know when I’m not wanted.’

  ‘Please stay, I would sooner have you than him. I won’t be a minute. I’ll tell him he’s got to go…’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot, Mary Ann. I’m just a friend, this man is someone you could spend the rest of your life with—and I’m happy for you.’ She was making her way to the front door, her ticket to freedom.

  ‘I don’t want you to go, do you understand?’ Mary Ann’s footsteps thudded frantically behind her.

  ‘Yes, and you are kind, but I’ve got to get back home, there are things I need to do.’ Her hand was on the door handle, ready to open.

  ‘Please Cecelia, don’t go. I’ve been on my own for days. You came to visit me because you cared about me. If you go now, I know you won’t come back,’ and now she was holding on to her arm. ‘You won’t come back, will you? I know you won’t come back. You promised always to be my friend.’

  ‘The truth, Mary Ann, is that I’m busy, which is not to be taken personally; it’s just one of those things. People move on with their lives, which is what you’re doing, and it’s good for you. I’m happy for you.’

  ‘No. My friendship with you is important. I shall tell him to get out of my life if I can’t have you.’

  Cecelia stopped; this was a shocking statement to make. ‘Well, that’s your decision, Mary Ann. But I’ve got to move on with my life.’

  Spoilt and possessive; perhaps in the past, Mary Ann got whatever she wanted. But this had nothing to do with her when she had her own life to think of. Dramatic behavior was just another of Mary Ann’s tactics. But this time, it was not working with her.

  ‘But you came to visit me,’ cried Mary Ann.

  ‘You’re right, I did. I came to see if you were okay—and you are okay, Mary Ann. This is a job to me…’

  ‘But did our friendship mean nothing?’

  A hundred things were said in that one exchange, a hundred thoughts in the space of two seconds. For the first time, Cecelia shook her head at Mary Ann; she would never come dancing to her again. The balloon had popped, the string binding them together had been severed, she was free. An extraordinary gift of liberation, the serfdom strings did no longer apply. Incredible, but how real.

  ‘Take care of yourself,’ Cecelia smiled, leaving the house.

  In her own way, Mary Ann was another Tina, another intimidating bully who demanded total control by telling her what to say, do, and even think. The same as Tina had done to dad. In that instance when Cecelia left her parent's home, she vowed never to return. This time, it was not going to be repeated. But make no mistake, there were people like Tina everywhere, she was not going to be another statistic like her father. Cecelia had learned from his hard mistake.

  Although it was a relief walking out of the house, the phantoms of fear were climbing all over her, asking if she had done the right thing. Who knows anything until that chance is taken?

  Already the light was beginning to leave this side of the planet as long shadows began marching across the ground.

  Not for the first time had Cecelia decided which side she was going to take. There was no returning with apologies. No more guilty trips or waiting to be forgiven. For Cecelia, this was one of the biggest things she had ever done in her life. Getting through it would be a personal triumph.

  Had she expected Mary Ann to call after her? Perhaps. But perhaps Mary Ann was as proud as her. No one was pleading for her to return. Although Cecelia knew that Mary Ann’s eyes watched her as she walked away, at this moment hating her, yet returning now meant that she would never be free of her. It wasn’t easy to do, not easy to make someone unhappy. This was pride and freedom and doing what she wanted. Carry on walking, an inner voice was growing and becoming louder. There is no turning back Cecelia, you know that don’t you?

  Behind in the growing darkness, a door closed, and Cecelia was released from the spell.

  14

  ‘Cecelia, what are you doing here?’ Phoebe answered the door, smiling yet surprised.

  ‘I have done something which I should have done a long time ago.’ She was trembling.

  ‘You better come in. You look like you fought with a ghost.’

  ‘I feel like a ghost,’ replied Cecelia, giggling.

  The pungent smell of hundreds of flowers competed with each other as she entered the shop.

  ‘You had better come upstairs; you look like you could do with a drink. I’ve got some brandy; I’ll have a glass with you to keep you company and then you can tell me all about it.’ Laughter was infectious even if it from nerves; Phoebe was happy to see her friend.

  Cheerful in this house, the smell of flowers like before chased the two when they mounted the stairs. Even the worn carpet which had seen so many feet climb it said welcome. Being with Phoebe was uncomplicated and even homely, just a very nice person to be around.

  Climbing to the higher floors brought with it another dimension of scents. The crisp smell of cucumber and tomatoes perfumed the air, and suddenly Cecelia found an appetite that she had never known before. Was this going to be an evening of firsts?

  ‘I’m hungry,’ confessed Cecelia. ‘I smelt your salad.’

  ‘And you need feeding,’ grinned Phoebe, nodding. Going through into the kitchen with pleasure. ‘Tell me what you would like? I have everything here that a vegetarian stomach craves for, and plenty of it. Mung beans, alfalfa, nuts, and fruit as well as the traditional ingredients. It’s possible to exist and get complete nourishment on this with perhaps a steak thrown in now and again.’

  So different, Phoebe was unique from everyone else Cecelia knew. Her kooky trousers were made by herself because she had one leg shorter than the other, not that Cecelia would have noticed. I am being myself, take me for what I am.

  But was she pretty, it was difficult to say? Phoebe moved too quickly for an adequate description. And perhaps it was this liveliness and enthusiasm for life which was so attractive. The fun she found in almost everything Phoebe did and touched and saw made her into a captivating and interesting character.

  Between the cucumber and the Romaine lettuce, Cecelia told Phoebe what happened with Mary Ann. This was greeted with a round of approval before sipping the brandy and water.

  ‘Bravo, bravo,’ Phoebe clapped her hands, stamping her feet to induce the sound of an audience.

  The noise, fuss, and excitement prompted Cecelia to stand and take a bow. Phoebe’s fingertips called out for a wolf whistle as this great friendship cemented.

  What is this love for a person of the same gender which binds itself with promises that surpasses any other love even for one’s children? Like twins formed from one cell cleft from the beginning, while gravity’s swinging pendulum returns one to the other. So many experiences were yet to be had. At last, they had found each other.

  ‘I believe there are people out there,’ said Phoebe now calmer and on a note of discipline marbled with the truth. ‘Who give up on themselves to satisfy another’s feelings.’ Phoebe smiled and looked up from her glass. ‘I used to think it was from weakness that I caved in, but now I believe it’s from a person’s temperament. These bullies have some sort of detecting inst
inct, they hone in on other’s gentleness. They instinctively know that we don’t want to upset them. People like us are well-mannered, kind, and thoughtful.’

  ‘While they are the wicked witches from the west who intuitively sniff people out like us. We smell sweet while they believe we won’t do them any harm.’ Again, Phoebe convinced herself that she had worked out the correct answer. ‘It took me over two years to understand this. Two years of beatings, two years of believing I deserved it because he told me I did. What happened to me? I used to wonder if I had always been like this. Whenever we made up, I used to thank God that Harry still loved me because he had forgiven me. I must have been mad. But now, every morning, I thank God that I’m free from him. Harry never loved me because he couldn’t understand what real love was about.’

  It was fun being with Phoebe, Cecelia felt happiness as they chatted like sisters. Eating and drinking, planning, and plotting and exchanging thoughts. Talking to Phoebe was often like talking to herself, a self who she had forgotten about and only dreamt of.

  Her father should have walked out on Tina, he should have turned his back and left. But would he have taken her with him? Each of us caves in one way or another because it’s easy. I’ll stay for my daughter. I’ll stay for another reason, and one day, I will leave. But it never happens.

  ‘I know,’ said Phoebe, going to the side where the brandy bottle’s line sank. The cork came off with a pop. ‘We should go out together and make more friends. Make our lives bigger. For nearly eight years of my life, I’ve been too busy running away.’ She shrugged. ‘To be honest, I’ve been afraid of doing anything too grand in case my husband found me. But life is too precious to live in fear, the human body is fragile and every day we take chances with our lives. We must live life as if it is the final moment of our existence. To feel everything we are, the bad and the good. There is nothing to be ashamed of. And if that giant, nebulous creature called God is waiting out there, then when he’s ready we will return to him, because I believe we all go back to the beginning. Then we can say to him, yes, I’ve had a grand time. I’ve been happy. I’ve done everything I wanted to do. Gosh, I must be drunk.’

  Wonderful to hear Phoebe talking like that, but she was right, why should people like her, and Phoebe have to suffer? ‘Why don’t you divorce him and then you would be rid of him altogether.’ The last piece of cucumber was still lying on the plate, but not for long.

  ‘Yes, it’s a good idea. I’m sure he’s not a bad man with someone else. I think it must be something to do with me,’ she shrugged again. ‘I never figured out why he loved and hated me. In the end, I think it was easier for him to just hate me.’

  Her animated face slowed down like a steam train coming into the station. ‘And then I think he must be so damn unhappy to find pleasure in hurting me.’

  Phoebe was right, to understand how someone thinks, it’s necessary to imbibe some of their soul.

  ‘I don’t care how Mary Ann feels because if I worry,’ began Cecelia more firmly, ‘I might go back to her with another apology.’

  ‘Which is just what she is hoping for, and I should know that; I was always apologizing to Harold after he beat me. It sounds idiotic when I think about it now. He made me believe that no one wanted me and that I was so lucky to have him. I think I’ll have another brandy. Do you want one?’

  Cecelia picked up her mug and looked inside. There was enough.

  ‘I’ll top up your cup. This is a celebration. We are free people in a free world. Isn’t it wonderful?’

  A liberating night deserved a party, and one came running to them ad hoc. Sitting and chatting and finishing off the brandy. They talked into the night about everything.

  ‘Why don’t you stay the night?’ suggested Phoebe. ‘We can share my bed, and I promise you I don’t snore, I’ve never woken myself with it. Do you snore?’

  ‘Who knows, I’ve never spent the night with anyone. But I better go home.’ But even as Cecelia said this, she had already made up her mind about staying with Phoebe. It would be like an adult sleepover.

  How the topic of the house came up was probably something that was lying on Cecelia’s mind. Phoebe had a spare toothbrush for Cecelia. While Cecelia talked, Phoebe became quiet.

  ‘Why don’t you move in with me for a while? Put the house up for rent, you can make some money that way. It should be enough for you to pay off your mortgage and help to contribute towards your living cost. I won’t charge you for living here, in fact, it will be fun. When you can, you can help out with the shop. Don’t you see; it all makes sense. And we get on famously, haven’t you noticed? We will also be able to protect each other from the Slasher. What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know, it’s a big step to take. I’ve got to think about this.’

  But it would certainly sort out all her problems which had been giving her headaches and making her stressed and depressed. Watching Phoebe clear away the plates from the miss shaped meal. Phoebe caught Cecelia looking at her; it ended with them poking their tongues out at each other. This was the friend Cecelia had always craved for.

  Yet why not? Why not move in with Phoebe, it would be fun, and they would be there for each other. To refuse this offer suddenly seemed stupid.

  ‘Okay, I will. I hope I know what I am letting myself in for.’

  ‘Brilliant. There’s another small room which houses my junk. I can sort it out and get you a bed. It would be cozy having you staying with me. We will have such larks,’ and then she smiled gently. ‘To be honest, this face here,’ Phoebe pointed to her chin, ‘has been a bit of bravado, I haven’t felt safe since the attack.’ With her mask off, Phoebe’s vulnerability was apparent.

  ‘I think it will be good for us both,’ said Cecelia, tempted to put her hand over Phoebe’s.

  ‘Yes, and if there is anyone you want to bring back, you must think of this as your home for how long you need it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Phoebe’s kindness was almost overwhelming.

  Then Cecelia couldn’t help staring at Phoebe’s head.

  ‘You’ve only just noticed,’ laughed Phoebe, her pretty blue eyes merry with happiness smiled. The red, blue, and green had now reverted to light brown hair. ‘I thought it would be a sensible change.’

  Come tomorrow, as the two chatted through the night, Cecelia would inquire about putting her property up for rent. Such a decision like this had taken off a great deal of weight; she had a friend, someone like family, who now would help her.

  Sometimes, life needs immediate action while everything else has to be put on hold until the problem is sorted. After considering doing the renting herself, it seemed easier to go through with a locally certified property manager. It meant sharing the money, but it also meant that she was able to get on with her life.

  ‘One day,’ Phoebe said while they were reading the housing literature. ‘I am going to buy my own property. I’m going to put in a bid for this house. It’s in an ideal situation off the main high road. And apart from that, I love this old building.’

  The old jalopy owned outright by Phoebe bought to pick up her flowers and deliveries was at Cecelia’s disposal. Later the following day after the shop closed, they went to collect Cecelia’s pieces of furniture and clothes.

  The first day of a wonderful adventure could have been a scene from a Hollywood movie. The endearing old truck was just about roadworthy as it bounced along the road stacked with Cecelia’s possessions. Two enthusiastic women running up and down the stairs coordinating their fetching and carrying. Excited voices raised high with the plans they were making. Never having been to summer school, but this was how Cecelia imagined it.

  It was a surprisingly well-sized apartment above the shop, large and generous and a great host for Cecelia’s belongings. She had collected quite a few bits since acquiring her property. Single chairs, the odd pillow, somewhere to put her umbrella and an ashtray for those who still smoked had snuck in intending to stay forever. You must have these glas
ses, and no one does anything without a lampstand. True, most of these items came from a second-hand shop, but they were picked with love.

  ‘There is a solution to everything,’ said Phoebe, picking up another one of the boxes.

  Planning to move on with her life is such a frightening and final thing. Although she had stayed for that week with Phoebe, it was always with the knowledge that she had her home to return to. But Phoebe was also changing her life.

  Three days passed during this adventure while the world stood outside and watched. Perhaps Life stood intentionally out of the way to give these two a break. Because on the fourth day and switching on the local radio, they heard that Alandra Slasher had once again taken a new victim.

  Seventeen-year-old Cindy Clayton had been found in the same place as Marcia Davis just over a year ago. And no one had seen anything irregular to call attention to. What happened was scary.

  The previous sightings of a man in dark clothes hanging around schools and colleges just two days ago came to nothing; he simply vanished. Everyone was on the lookout for him, but with flimsy pieces of information, it was like looking for a phantom. The only way to tackle this problem was to prevent young women from going out on their own by going either in groups or to have a man present.

  ‘He’s only going for virgins; how does he know they’re virgins?’ Phoebe touched the side of her head where the injury was. Still conscious of the area where Cecelia had no choice but to shave Phoebe’s hair. Her bald patch was now covered with a beanie which she had made while recuperating. But of course, nothing would be ordinary with Phoebe. Spangled silk pieces with checked cotton fashioned her hat.

  ‘Who knows,’ said Cecelia. ‘Perhaps the Slasher is a priest. He gets to know them when they come to confession.’ An interesting thought was gathering momentum. ‘Perhaps he’s just lucky, or perhaps he knows the girls he talks to. I don’t know. Murderers can alter their profiles.’

  ‘I suppose, but I’ve spent too long being scared. I know that if my husband finds me, he will certainly kill me. He told me once that if I ever left him, he would hunt me down and take my life because I belong to him. That’s why I can’t let him know where I am. The police can only put someone away after the crime has been committed. Do you want to see a photograph of my husband?’