Kiss Me, Kill Me

by Mullins, Louise

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Mel!’ My mother inhaled sharply then let me go.

  I dropped, and a sudden pain shot through my lower spine, jolting me awake.

  ‘You didn’t have to do that, Sam. Can’t you see she’s tired?’

  I blinked one eye open and looked up at Gran. She was dribbling.

  ‘I didn’t send her here to sleep.’

  ‘No. But we both know why you did.’ Gran’s eyes were half-shut as she spoke.

  I rubbed my back and felt myself wobble as I walked. My mother grabbed my arm to march me out of the house and the circulation in my lower extremities slowly returned.

  A car horn blared from the roadside. I looked down from the stepped walkway to the pavement at the white car I recognised from the park two days prior.

  Jason sat behind the steering wheel, moving a cigarette from side-to-side between his teeth. He took one long drag then threw it onto the tarmac, rested his arm over the open window, and wolf whistled. ‘Exercise those legs, ladies.’

  I glanced at the time on the dashboard – it was almost 9 p.m. – and caught a flash of Jason’s teeth from my rear-view seat as we set off. He smiled at me while kneading my mother’s leg. I averted my gaze to focus on the road ahead, resting my face against the cool window as we cruised along the street, the glass vibrating my skull.

  When we arrived home, Jason parked the car in front of the house, turned off the engine and followed us to the door. He entered the gloomy living room behind us and halted in the doorway at the sight of my parent’s wedding photograph in the silver-plated embossed frame attached to the wall.

  My mother wrapped her arms round his waist, but he pushed her hands away and turned to me. ‘Hadn’t you better get to bed?’

  She lowered her eyes. ‘Yes, Mel. He’s right. It’s late. Off you go.’ She batted the air in a half-hearted wave.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’

  She glared at me. ‘Gone.’

  ‘Is Jason staying the night?’

  ‘Yes,’ they said in unison.

  ‘Where are you going to sleep?’

  He looked at my mother. ‘Sleep?’

  Her unease disintegrated and she chuckled as he trailed his fingers down her arm, her hip, and lowered his hand to the back of her dress, which rose slightly before she shrieked. She slapped him lightly on the chest and his features hardened.

  He grabbed her arms and pulled her close. ‘Go, M—’ she said, as he swallowed the rest of my name from her mouth.

  I climbed the stairs, dragging my feet as I neared my bedroom. Something downstairs fell, furniture was scraped across carpet, wood knocked against wood and my mother giggled. I closed the door, sunk onto the bed, squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my fists until my nails dug into my flesh and fell asleep to Jason giving my mother a private lesson in aerobics.

  *

  When I awoke, sunlight was streaming through the wide gap in the curtains and onto my face. I turned away from the heat, my hair knotted and damp, skin sticky, the bedsheet twisted around my legs. But the blazing sun followed me to the edge where the mattress gave way beneath me as I stretched my leg out. I pressed my foot down in time to prevent myself from falling onto the thinly carpeted floor as I slid off the bed and stood.

  Downstairs, my mother, wearing the T-shirt Jason had arrived in the night before, whistled as she slept, one arm dangling off the sofa. The coffee table was adorned with empty bottles of Smirnoff Ice and Coors Light.

  Jason was in the kitchen singing along to the radio while stirring steaming coffee in the Tommy the Tiger cup my father had traded for his Esso tokens. He dropped two slices of bread into the toaster and pushed the lever down. Then he turned around and put the teaspoon onto the counter with a clang. ‘Morning.’

  ‘You don’t have kids, do you?’

  He frowned. ‘Why’d you say that?’

  ‘’Cos if you did, you’d know not to walk around the house in your underpants.’

  He looked down at his bulge then leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘When my name is on the lease, I’ll do what I want in it.’

  I caught the hint of menace in his tone and felt my stomach lurch.

  As he straightened, he smiled over my shoulder. ‘Morning, Sam.’

  It was a strange juxtaposition because he looked genuinely pleased to see her, yet I now knew he was only after her money. And would have to stay with her long enough to oversee her divorce settlement if he was planning to spend it.

  I turned. My mother was leaning against the doorframe, rubbing the sleep from her good eye; the surrounding skin of the other was still flecked purple and green. She wore a lopsided smile that dropped when she saw me. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’ She poked my ribs with her bony finger as she passed me. ‘It’s still early.’

  ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘Go and sit at the dining table and I’ll bring you in a bowl of Frosties.’

  I spun round and left the kitchen. ‘What are you telling her that for?’ My mother hissed as she closed the door on their conversation, not bothering to quieten her voice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘When my name is on the lease, I’ll do what I want in it,’ she mocked.

  ‘There’s no flies on her, Sam. I think you should sit her down and explain the situation.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She knows what he did to you, why he’s not here, and why I am.’

  ‘That may be true, but what’s your point?’

  ‘Young minds adapt easily to the circumstances they’re presented with but that doesn’t mean they aren’t affected by them.’

  ‘She’s resilient is what you’re saying. So, what do you propose? That I tell her he’s never coming back? That her dad punched my face in then walked out on us because she told him I left her alone in the park to hook up with you?’

  ‘You can’t guard her from the things she’s already aware of.’

  I shoved open the door and it hit something.

  My mother screamed. ‘Fuck!’

  She limped over to the freezer, flung the door open so violently that it almost bounced shut, removed an ice-cube tray, bashing it onto the counter and tipping blocks onto the floor. She grabbed a shard of ice before it swum away and rubbed it over her bloody toenail, eyes clamped shut, teeth grinding. ‘Stupid girl. I told you to wait in the living room.’

  ‘It was an accident,’ Jason said.

  Her eyes didn’t leave mine. ‘You’re not having any breakfast. Go to your room and stay there until lunchtime.’

  ‘Don’t be harsh with her just because you’re in pain.’

  ‘Don’t tell me how to take care of my own kid.’

  ‘Go on up, Mel. Leave me to speak to your mum.’

  My pulse quickened and I stomped my foot. ‘No.’

  ‘Mel?!’

  I ignored my mother and held Jason’s gaze. ‘You’re going to hurt her.’

  He startled, reached out, lay his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. ‘I don’t know the extent of everything that happened here between your mum and dad, but I promise you I never have nor would I ever raise a hand to a woman.’ As he stepped back, he stuck his little finger out and motioned for me to do the same. Then he curled it round mine, so they were hugging. ‘Pinkie promise.’

  My mother’s face softened. She blinked, flicking tears onto her chest which she wiped away with a trembling hand. Then she knelt to collect the remaining ice-cubes from the lino, threw them into the sink, and left the room, limping. I retreated into the living room and switched on the TV.

  Minutes later Jason placed a bowl of cereal onto my lap and handed my mother a cup of coffee before he went upstairs to shower.

  Dale Winton pushed a shopping trolley down the aisle of a supermarket. A man and woman were shoving as many items into it as they could before their time was up.

  My mother blew on her cup and sipped the liquid slowly, eyes focused on the TV screen. ‘Jason will be good to us, Mel.’

&n
bsp; I shrugged, crunching and swallowing the last mouthful of Frosties. Then I sprung off the sofa, dumped the bowl on the kitchen counter, and went upstairs.

  Jason was exiting the bathroom as I reached the top of the staircase, a towel wrapped round his waist, hair sticking up at angles, face flushed. I watched a rivulet of water gliding down his bare chest and when I raised my head to look at him, he wore the same expression he gave my mother right before he dragged her into his arms.

  BETHAN

  Now

  Humphrey stands poised beside the open passenger door, the car keys hanging from his forefinger, his face etched in shadow.

  ‘Traipsing through a village of slate houses in the rain is my idea of hell.’ I cross my arms and push my tongue against the back of my teeth, jutting my chin forward in defiance.

  ‘I’m not going on my own.’

  And I’m not getting into that death-trap with you.

  ‘You refused to accompany me to the castle, to take a stroll along the river, to eat a meal… I insist we visit the quarry. The views are fantastic.’

  I sigh loudly and turn my head to the squawking of a red-billed Chough high up in a birch tree lining the pond.

  Thick grey clouds fill the sky and wind whips my hair in front of my face. The weather is perfect. The car is prepped. I just need Humphrey to get behind the steering wheel, lose control and speed through a three-foot high wall and into the Llyn Padarn to prove the E-Class can’t be driven off-road.

  I smile, visualising the car plunging into the river, Humphrey’s fearful shrieks emitted as a gurgle that is drowned by the air-tight, water-logged cabin of the sinking vehicle.

  ‘I love it when you smile.’

  My grin falters. Keeping up the façade of the respectful, caring wife to my dull, rich husband is exhausting.

  He approaches me, face sulky, crunching gravel beneath the soles of his Thom Browne brogues. I look down as he takes my hands in his, presses his thumbs into my palms, circles them. ‘Bethan, darling, please join me?’

  ‘A day of climbing steep, moss-covered steps without handrails to wander through cold, windowless sheds or watching re-runs of The Real Housewives of Orange County while gorging on Godiva chocolates in front of the log burner? Choices, choices…’

  ‘Clean air, good food, old films, and lie-ins… Bethan, we need this break.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I tug my hands free and his drop to his sides.

  ‘We rarely spend any time together unless it’s in the company of others.’

  ‘If you didn’t arrange social gatherings to appease your old business associates, we’d have plenty of time on our own.’

  And I’d get to spend more time in a tracksuit than a ballgown.

  A fat droplet of rain lands on his nose. He shakes it off and looks up at the gathering mist curtailing around the treetops. ‘I don’t want to stand here arguing with you. Go and get your hiking boots on and a warmer coat.’

  ‘I’m going back inside for a warm drink and to laze in front of the TV. You can do as you please.’

  ‘How about a truce?’

  My pulse is quickening, my hands shaking.

  Just hurry up and fucking die, old man.

  ‘We spread our excursions out over the week.’

  ‘You go and do whatever you want.’ I turn back to the house.

  He tugs on my sleeve, but as I try to shake him off, he spins me round to meet his stern gaze and something inside me uncoils, an unwanted memory. I draw my arm back but before my fist connects to his smug face, he catches my wrist in a vice-like grip and moves towards me, forcing me to step back. ‘Don’t ever raise your hand to me again.’

  ‘Or what?’

  His eyes blaze with a fury I’ve never seen him possess. ‘Do you really want to find out?’

  ‘Don’t threaten me.’

  ‘Don’t test me.’ He eventually releases me and shoves me away, so I stumble on the slippery, pebbled path. Then he turns and walks in the direction of the car.

  ‘Hey! Where are you going? Oi! Don’t walk away from me!’

  He turns and I panic, thinking he’s going to change his mind, return to me and strike me. Or worse, apologise. But then he shakes his head.

  ‘You’re pathetic,’ I spit.

  ‘When you’ve calmed down, we’ll talk. I’m not prepared to take any more of your crap, Bethan. And I won’t be threatened with violence by anyone, especially not from the woman I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my life with.’

  I feel the weight of his words relieve the tension in my muscles and stare after him in disbelief as he drives away, to his death.

  DI LOCKE

  Then

  I stared at the clock on the wall and began my nth pace of the room.

  ‘You’re going to wear a hole in the floor, Emma.’

  I turned sharply to Detective Chief Inspector Evans. ‘I wish I was cuffing the bastard.’

  ‘Me too.’ He stood.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To watch the bastard being brought in. It’s the next best thing,’ he said.

  The bastard being Rick Kiernan AKA the Newport Butcher. Dubbed thus due to the way in which he tortured the women he paid to have sex with.

  My team were responsible for getting the sick specimen of a human being off the streets. I wanted to witness him being escorted into the building too, so I followed Evans from the incident room, down the corridor and outside to greet him.

  It was my second case with my new team. My first had been a cold one. The disappearances and subsequent murders of several girls two decades before. The killer had recently died. His daughter had inherited his farm. It was during renovations that she’d discovered the bones in the paddock. I’d been asked to lead the investigation as I had experience working missing persons, specialist training in sexual offences, and when I’d requested a transfer from Avon and Somerset Criminal Investigation Department it was the first case I’d been assigned since my promotion to detective inspector.

  Evans stopped abruptly and I almost walked into him. I stood aside, backing into the wall to allow Winters and Chapman the pleasure of escorting Rick through the door and into the custody suite.

  He didn’t raise his head until he reached the desk. And when asked to confirm his name and date of birth he tilted his head back and spat in the custody sergeant’s face.

  MELANIE

  Then

  I took one final bite of the warm, crispy doughnut, squashed the crinkly paper bag into a ball and tossed it into a nearby bin. Then I licked the sugar from my lips and wiped my greasy hand on the lilac- and lime-coloured leggings my mother insisted I wore, leaving stains on the thin fabric that didn’t prevent the whistling wind from seeping through and coating my legs with goose bumps.

  Jason strolled a few yards ahead, beneath the weak sun, occasionally turning around to ensure I was following him.

  We passed a meat van, a stall selling half-price videos, a tarpaulin covered table containing sweets and another filled with knock-off perfumes.

  Jason stopped in front of a woman marking up items on a clothing rack and started chatting her up. I pretended not to notice and sifted through rails of bright patterned jumpers and nylon trousers, fuzzy with lint from where they’d been handled.

  ‘What do you think of this, Mel?’ said Jason, holding out a royal blue belly top.

  I screwed my face up and fingered a mid-length chiffon dress in light rose, but it was snatched away from me in an instant. Jason dumped it on top of a rack of long grey, cream and brown skirts and held out a lemon-coloured five-piece outfit on a hanger. The hairband and purse on a string that came with it caught my eye and I took it from him to closer inspect. ‘It’s nice.’

  ‘It’ll look lovely on you.’

  ‘How much is it?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Do you want it?’

  I nodded.

  He handed the woman a ten-pound note and swerved towards an aisle of black heeled boots.

>   ‘You know Mum won’t let me wear those.’

  ‘It’s a good job she’s not here then, isn’t it?’

  I smiled.

  ‘What size are you?’

  ‘One.’

  ‘Adult size one?’ As he spoke his voice rose in mock surprise.

  ‘Yeah.’

  He looked me up and down. ‘You’re becoming a little lady.’

  My face warmed and my limbs tingled.

  When we got home, my mother was Sellotaping balloons emblazoned with the number ten to the gate. And when we entered the house, I could see two of Jason’s friends already seated, drinks in hand, in the living room. In the background Take That were singing through the speakers, Gary Barlow’s voice overpowering the other four members of the band as he sung about love and regret.

  My mother carried through a tray of sausage rolls and placed it on the dining table. The steam rose off them and made my mouth water but the second I reached out to grab one my mother swatted it from my hand, and it dropped on the carpet. She gave me a disapproving look and tutted as she turned back to the kitchen.

  I knelt to retrieve the small parcel of meat, stuffed it into my mouth and brushed away the crumbs decorating the newly vacuumed carpet.

  When I stood, Jason was right behind me. I could feel his breath lift my fringe. ‘Here’s the birthday girl,’ he said, dumping a plate of miniature pizzas beside the tray and snatching a handful of crisps from a bowl. He ate them in one mouthful. ‘For you,’ he said, as he chewed, passing me a cupcake and winking.

  I smiled.

  Your secret’s safe with me.

  Then, aware of my wonky teeth and wanting to hide them, I shoved it into my mouth. The sponge was thick and dry and stuck to the roof of my mouth like chewed up paper. I swallowed a hard lump of unmixed flour and it clogged in the back of my throat.

  My mother returned with the dish full of cheese and pineapple skewered onto cocktail sticks that no one, but she, ate. She swayed to her own tune while the music pumped from various sized speakers dotted around the room. The sound surrounding us vibrated the table containing dishes of food that were becoming drier and staler as the guests became looser and more slobbery.