Amy Cooper Forever

by Craig Mullins

  Inside the house there was a small vestibule, three metal letter boxes hung on the wall to the left next to the front door for the ground floor apartment. The carpet was grubby and worn, the once floral pattern now a mess of blobs and swirls in varying shades of browns and greens. The flight of stairs carried the same carpet up to the first floor where there was a second landing with a door to the next apartment. The final flight led to s single door at the top, no landing this time just the yellowing white painted door. With Em behind him he opened the door, it led to a deceptively large open plan space. The floor was polished oak boards, the walls were whitewashed in a haphazard manner over the bare brickwork giving an industrial feel. The space was probably two thirds of the apartment, the kitchen to the far left incorporated a comfortable work space and a small island to separate it from the main living area. If this apartment had been on the other side of the quay and not where it was there would be no way that Pinky could afford it, but Southtown was the least desirable area of Yarmouth to live. He loved it and couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to pay the rents they were asking to be closer to the front, when he had this apartment which he adored.

  “This is your apartment?” Em asked as she stood aghast in the vast space.

  “It’s yours now too for as long as you need it. Here let me show you around, not that there is much to show, this is most of it.” He indicated with a wave of his arm. The spare room was sparsely furnished, a made up single bed was to the right with a chest of drawers next to it. A vintage wardrobe stood the other side next to a small wash hand basin–the property had previously been a guest house and as such every room had a small basin. He then showed her the bathroom and in keeping with the rest of the apartment had whitewashed brick walls and a tiled shower cubicle but no bath. The toilet and sink finished it off. Pinky kept the place very clean and could see the look on Em’s face that this was not what she had expected.

  “Will you be alright here for an hour or so while I run a few errands, you can take a shower, there is a washing machine in the kitchen if you want to wash your clothes, I’ll get you a pair of tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt if you want from my room.” He vanished for thirty seconds before returning with the items.

  “I’ll be fine, are you sure you don’t mind me staying here?” She still thought there was more to this than just him being nice, she was waiting for him to tell her exactly what this generosity was going to cost her.

  “It’s fine, it will be nice having the company to be honest. Right I’ll be back in about in an hour or so.” He said no more before leaving.

  He got in his car and drove to Gorleston, it took him about ten minutes to get there and another five to find just what he was looking for. Three quarters of the way down Marine Parade he spotted it, a bright red telephone box. He drove past and parked about a hundred yards further down the road. He walked back with the piece of paper in his hand and a pocketful of coins. Inside the booth he picked up the receiver and dialled the number for Belle Vista Chalet Park.

  “Good morning, Belle Vista Chalet Park, Rebecca speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Hello, I was wondering if I could book a chalet for tomorrow night?”

  “Of course sir, I’ll just check that one is available.” She offered. “Yes we have one.”

  He booked the room under the name of Mr and Mrs Heart, and was told that he could pick the key up after two o’clock and that the room would need to be vacated by ten the following morning. He had chosen that particular park for its less than flattering reputation. Rumour had it that it was not averse to renting rooms to professional girls to help them run their personal service businesses. He knew that the number of comings and goings from the park would offer a certain amount of anonymity.

  Once he had booked the room he could feel his heart race quicken with the looming prospect of the coming night. He drove home with his excitement building, he had one more stop to make, the charity shop. Two minutes from home he found the one he wanted, it was always busy and they had loads of second hand clothes. He picked out a few items and paid, the cashier hardly noticed him.

  He let himself back into his apartment, and found Em seated on the sofa, her legs curled beneath her watching telly. She’d had a shower and he saw her for what she was–a frightened beautiful young girl out of her depth. “Hi, I picked you up a couple of bits while I was out, they’ll do you until you get out and get some of your own. I’ll give you some money when I get paid on Monday.”

  “Thank you, you don’t have to give me any money. I’m gonna get a job, I don’t care what I do but I will pay you back.” She turned in her seat, her wet hair hung down the side of her face, she could see her life turning around, this was going to be the start of a new journey for her. She would forget about her abusive step dad, and her mum that ignored what he did to her. Yes this would be a fresh start. Justine Talbot was dead, now she would be Emily Richards. She sat there watching the television with a smile broader than the Cheshire cats as Pinky made them something to eat in the kitchenette.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  Monday 6th November 2017

  Pinky had come to the point in his book where he had to make a decision, should he be completely honest or not. What he did to Amy was justified, in his mind everything involving Amy Cooper followed a logical progression. From the first time he laid eyes on her to the final moments of her life. That was his story and he didn’t think tainting it with the senseless act he committed on Emily Richards really needed to be included. But part of him kept saying it was all the same journey, that to leave it out would somehow leave the reader a little perplexed as to how he ended up where he did.

  In the end he decided he would mention her sort of as a co-conspirator but leave the reader wondering exactly what happened to her, they could make their own minds up. The next chapter he was going to write was one that would show his superiority over Amy, it was how he managed to get her to the chalet.

  The block had been fairly quiet recently; they’d been informed that a new cell mate would be joining them in a couple of weeks. The cell opposite Pinky’s had been cleared out and had even been given a coat of white emulsion. It wasn’t clear yet who the new inmate would be but Pinky knew that a big story in the news lately was about the couple who’d murdered their lodgers. It appeared that over the course of twenty five years the couple had taken in the homeless, fed and clothed them and supposedly set them on a new path, in their local town they were hailed as heroes. It emerged that what they had actually been doing was raping and abusing them before killing them and disposing of the bodies in their back garden. It was only when the water company had a burst main and they had to dig a large area to the side of their rear garden that a bone was discovered.

  Apparently over the years the earth had shifted just enough to push a femur a few inches outside the boundary of their garden. Once the bone had been identified as human a full scale excavation had ensued, though before that happened Mr Isaac Thompson was found hanged in the garage, and Mrs Thompson had tried suffocating herself on the exhaust of their car while her husband swung from the rafters. Unfortunately for her a neighbour heard the car and alerted the authorities. Mrs Irene Thompson was now under tight security at the local hospital and was expected to make a full recovery.

  If Pinky was a betting man he would wager she was the next inmate. She would be the sort of person that would fit right in. But he needed to put those thoughts away for the time being, he had a book to finish.

  Chapter 10

  It wasn’t easy getting Amy to be where I wanted her to be. Somehow I had to figure out how to get her from her home in Hertfordshire to the Norfolk coast. I knew this was going to be easier said than done, but like always I had a plan. I knew she had just finished her A-levels and would be going to university in September, all I needed was an excuse to get her to come to Norfolk.

  For my plan to work I needed a few things, the main one being some letter headed paper from the University of Ea
st Anglia where I’d discovered she was going to be attending. I already knew her address and telephone number and I wasn’t sure if the final thing I would be able to get–her enrolment number-just to make it appear legitimate. If I couldn’t get it I would just have to hope she wasn’t smart enough to contact the University to confirm. As it turned out the University were very lapse in their data management, all I had to do was phone up with Amy’s date of birth, course details, address and contact number and explain that I was calling about her funding and that I appeared to be missing her enrolment number from her application and just like that they handed it over.

  So one month before I needed her to come I sent her a Letter from the University. It explained that as a new student the midwifery faculty were holding an informal get together so that students could get to know other students and faculty members before the course began in September. I hoped I’d worded it just right and I’d even enclosed a return envelope so that she could reply to accept or decline. The letter strongly advised students to attend citing all the positives to be gained. The return envelope had a PO Box address, this was the only risk I took as it was the only thing that could be traced back to me. My only hope was that she would fill out the form, send it back in the stamped addressed envelope and not keep a note of the PO Box number. If she did it would be game over as soon as they investigated and discovered that the University organised event was nothing of the sort. The letter also advised that the day prior to the event she would receive a phone call advising of her room number.

  I thought that I had all bases covered, and the only other thing I would need was a gullible person to make the phone call and collect the key from reception. The latter was a safeguard, I needed Amy to go straight to the chalet because if she went to the reception she may enquire if others had arrived for the midwifery conference that was being held. No I wanted her in the chalet before she knew something wasn’t right. The plan sounded a bit long winded even in my own head but all the other scenarios I could come up with wouldn’t work. School reunion-she could check with old friends, a party-again she could check who was going and would ask questions. I had even considered being honest and open and inviting her to come and see me and my new life in Norfolk. On reflection I knew she would tell people where she was going and whom she was meeting, the only way I could see this working was the way I had planned. The unfortunate side was that someone was going to get hurt other than Amy–I couldn’t have any loose ends.

  I can recall the day I posted the letter like it was yesterday. I stood at the post box letter in hand and hovered around it unsure whether I would go through with it. As much as Amy hurt me I still loved her, but I didn’t believe that could be enough. To this day I know I did the right thing, I couldn’t have lived my life knowing that she was with someone else. Anything was better than that possibility, and I knew I could never be with her after what she had done. I’d found a post box closest to the University in Norwich as I could, I was leaving nothing to chance, nothing that she could question.

  After that day all I had to do was wait and boy did she make me wait. I would come home from work every day and pray that the PO Box letter would be in my mail box (I’d paid extra to have the PO Box mail delivered to my address, it made no difference as the Royal Mail had all my details anyway when I registered it). It was on Friday the eleventh of June that it finally arrived. I took the letter up to my apartment, I set it on the counter and just stared at it. What if she’d declined the invitation? Scarier still was if she’d accepted. It was nine o’clock before I plucked up the courage to open it, I ran a sharp knife under the flap and removed the slip of paper from the envelope. Unfolding it I saw that she had clearly put a tick in the box indicating her acceptance. I was overjoyed and at the same time scared to death. I was really going to do it. It wasn’t the actual act that bothered me it was the begging that I was sure would come with it. There was nothing I hated more than whining girls, yet I knew that was exactly what I was going to get when Amy realised what was going to happen to her.

  For days after receiving confirmation that she would be attending I was on cloud nine. I think my colleagues at work wondered where my gaiety had come from, I also started talking to a couple of my female workers which I never really had the confidence to do. It would be just over three weeks until I would finally get to see Amy again.

  I’d already decided on how to get an accomplice to help me, during my work I had come across transients who would camp on the beach during the summer season. One of these would do, I would just need to pick the right one, young, vulnerable and with nothing to lose. I started keeping an eye out the day after receiving the letter.

  Like I said earlier Emily Richards is and isn’t part of the story.

  TWENTY NINE

  Friday 2nd July 1993

  Pinky didn’t have a phone in his apartment which was convenient for what he needed. Today was the day he had to let Amy know her chalet number for the upcoming midwifery conference organised by the University of East Anglia. And the last thing he needed was for the call to be traced back to his home address. The next thing he had to do was convince Em that he needed her to make a phone call. It was eleven thirty when he sat down next to Em on the sofa and handed her the lunch he had just made–beans on toast–he had to get her on side as quickly as possible as time was running out, the phone call needed to be made by three o’clock.

  “So Em, what is Em short for?” He asked as he tucked into his lunch.

  “Emily” She managed between mouthfuls.

  “I’m assuming you’ve run away from home – it’s none of my business, I just want you to know that you are safe here.”

  “Thank you. What do you do?”

  “I work in the office at the University of East Anglia.” He lied. He had been hoping she’d ask what he did for a living.

  “What do you do there?”

  “Oh, I organise conferences and things like that.” He carried on eating hoping that she would take the bait.

  “Do they have any jobs going at the moment?” She had taken it hook, line and sinker.

  “Actually they do have a couple of junior positions available, I’ll tell you what, I have to go and make a few phone calls later, maybe you could give me a hand and we’ll see what we can do about getting you a job. I should have made them yesterday at work but three of the people I had to call weren’t in and I forgot to ask someone else to call them as I’m off today and the weekend and the calls are really important. So I’ll have to nip out after lunch and find a call box, I’ll make a couple of them so you can see what I do, then you can make the last one, how does that sound?”

  “You’d really try and get me a job?”

  “We’ll see how you get on this afternoon and then on Monday when I’m back at work I’ll have a word with my boss and see if I can persuade her to get you in for an interview.” That was the first step sorted; the second should be easy if she thought it would lead to full time employment. They ate the rest of their lunch in silence.

  It was one o’clock before they left; she had to try on all four outfits he’d picked up from the charity shop before going back to the first one. She looked even younger if that was possible in the lemon yellow summer dress that had cost him one pound fifty. She still wore her grubby white trainers with it which made her look adorable. They walked to the phone box down the end of the road, “So if you listen to what I say then when it comes to your turn I’ll be there in case you stumble or forget what to say, okay?”

  “Yes, I think so.” They had arrived at the red box and they both managed to squeeze in, he could smell the coal tar soap from his bathroom on her. He held up the piece of paper which had three names on it, he dialled the first one, it was a made up number. He pretended to let it ring a few times.

  “Hello, could I speak to Miss A Taylor please?” He waited for the fictional person to say that they were indeed Miss A Taylor before responding. “I’m calling from the University of East Ang
lia in regards the midwifery conference tomorrow and would like to confirm your chalet number is forty-five and that you can head straight to it as a representative will meet you there on arrival.” Another slight pause, “Thank you, you have a nice day too.” Then he hung up the phone. He made the second call and followed pretty much the same script, then he handed Emily the phone and read the number for her to dial. He could hear the call as she held the phone to her ear closest to him. He moved even closer just so he would be able to hear Amy’s voice. The phone seemed to ring for an eternity but finally it was answered and it was the unmistakable voice of his once beloved. Emily went through the script the same way Pinky had done, she confirmed the room number that he had on the piece of paper. Once she hung up she asked Pinky if she was good enough.

  “You’re a natural; I can’t see any reason why my boss won’t agree to see you.” He said before adding, “In fact if you want you can help me again tomorrow?”

  “Really, you’d really let me help you?” The excitement in her voice almost made him feel guilty, but now was not the time to be having second thoughts.

  “Of course, there isn’t a lot to do but yes you can help. Right let’s get back and we can watch a film or something if you want?” He said.

  “OK”

  They went back to his apartment and spent the afternoon watching reruns of old Morecambe and Wise shows, Pinky had pretty much all their shows and films on VHS cassettes. His favourite which they had just finished watching was ‘That Riviera Touch’, he could see that Emily wasn’t into it as much as he was and had promised her that the next thing they watched could be her choice.