A Thousand Small Explosions

by John Marrs

  His brother Mark’s refusal to acknowledge her since the funeral wounded her. She had offered his parents support and a shoulder to cry on whenever they needed it, but she and Mark had not shared a special moment since those first few minutes after Kevin’s death.

  Being in Mark’s proximity was a Herculean task because each time she saw him or even sensed his immediacy, it was all she could do to refrain from throwing herself at him. When she thought he wasn’t looking, she’d take sneaky glimpses of his firm frame and his muscles as he lifted bales of hay for the cows, or as he finished the day with an early evening dip in the pool.

  Bethany too had grown accustomed to going for a cooling nightly swim before heading to bed - a treat she knew she’d miss when she left the farm to begin her travels. On this particular night, as she turned underwater to begin her fifth length, a figure at the other side of the pool caught her attention.

  Mark stood under an open parasol, watching her every stroke. She ground to a halt and wiped the chlorine from her eyes in case she was imagining him, then stood on her tiptoes in the middle of the pool and watched as he pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the ground. He dived in and swam towards her, stopping inches from her waist. He cocked his head and kissed her.

  Bethany felt dizzy as Mark’s lips enclosed hers, and try as she might, she couldn’t close her eyes because she needed to see him wanting her. She kissed him back with an equal measure of passion, her arms gripping him tightly and her fingertips fizzling like sparklers as they ran their way up and down his back until they reached the waistband of his shorts.

  When finally they separated, Bethany took a small step backwards and looked him in the eye. ‘Why now?’ she asked. ‘Why after all these weeks?’

  ‘Because my parents said you’re leaving soon,’ Mark replied, running his hands through his wet hair. ‘And I couldn’t let you go without knowing what I was going to spend the rest of my life missing.’

  Before Bethany could answer, Mark turned and swam back to the edge of the pool, lifted himself out and returned to the house, leaving her alone.

  Bethany closed her eyes and slowly sank to the bottom.

  CHAPTER 74

  NICK

  ‘How long have you known you’re pregnant?’ Nick asked, trying to keep the tone of his voice measured.

  He paced his old flat with his arms folded while Sally remained on the sofa, covering her stomach with her hands and an oversized woollen jumper.

  ‘I found out the day of that dinner party,’ she replied quietly.

  Nick knew she was referring to the evening in which the pressure of his covert relationship with Alex had become too much to bear. He’d lost his temper with their friends and later, Sally had worked out that Nick and Alex had been secretly spending time together.

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything before now? You’ve had plenty of opportunity to.’

  ‘What was I supposed to say? “Oh Nick, by the way, I know you have a boyfriend now but I’m pregnant with your baby”.’

  ‘But why wait to tell me until just before I go to New Zealand? It’s like you want to keep me here.’

  Sally glared at her ex-fiance. ‘Fuck off Nick! The world doesn’t revolve around you or your sodding love life. This isn’t about you, it’s about the baby. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘Then why did you!’

  ‘Because my mum insisted that you deserved to know. If it were up to me I’d have raised him or her on my own and you’d be none the wiser.’

  His former mother-in-law-to-be was right, but there was a small, selfish side to Nick that wished Sally hadn’t mentioned anything. That way he could fly to the other side of the world in blissful ignorance and start a new chapter in his life, unaware of any remaining baggage left behind.

  ‘What do you want me to do, Sal?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t want you to do anything. I just wanted you to know.’

  But Nick knew that doing nothing wasn’t an option he could, with a clear conscience, take.

  CHAPTER 75

  ELLIE

  The pile of paperwork Ellie had brought home remained untouched on the coffee table.

  Instead, she gave her sole attention to the marriage proposal book Tim had created for her. She’d read through it anxiously more times than she cared to remember. For much of the night, she carefully examined each photograph to see if it held a further clue that might contradict the details her fiancé had told her about his upbringing.

  But unless the clues were very well concealed, there was little else that indicated he had been anything other than honest with her. However, Ellie still couldn’t ignore the fact that Tim’s mother wore both a wedding and engagement ring in one photograph. Yet he’d told her quite clearly that his mother had never had a relationship after his father had walked out on her when he learned of her unplanned pregnancy. The rings she wore were too modern in design to be family heirlooms passed to her by her own mother. And if they’d been given to her by Tim’s father, why would she not have removed them years after his disappearance?

  As a scientist, it was in Ellie’s nature to ask questions and to scratch beneath the surface to answer the unexplained. And this was no exception because try as she might, she couldn’t let go of a feeling that left her profoundly unsettled.

  She used her scanner to send an image of the picture to her PA Ula. She asked for someone in her IT department to sharpen it up using whatever programmes they had to fill in missing pixels and get the clearest possible version. Once Ula returned the new, polished image to her employer, Ellie downloaded it to her desktop computer with the much larger screen so that she could examine every square centimetre of it in near microscopic detail.

  The first time Ellie had leafed through Tim’s book, she had assumed the photo in question of a young Tim had been taken at school as he was wearing a uniform. But on closer inspection, it appeared to be just an ordinary shirt and tie. However, draped over the tie was something that looked like a medal hanging from a striped ribbon.

  Then in the background, she spotted a banner hanging from a wall with the words “Cambridge Science Fair” painted in thick lettering. She thought back to a conversation they’d had when she was explaining how the gene worked. Tim had been quick to point out that science had been his weakest school subject. So what was he doing at a science fair with a medal around his neck?

  She scrolled her mouse over the medal and blew the picture up by another fifty per cent. She immediately recognised a logo printed upon it – it belonged to the same laboratory where Ellie had first discovered the gene that had led to the founding of Match Your DNA.

  CHAPTER 76

  AMANDA

  Amanda stared at Richard’s unconscious body unsure of whether her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  A moment earlier, as her Match was lying in his bed at the nursing home hooked up to machines to assist his breathing, she had held his hand to her cheek. Suddenly, his body reacted like his heart had been restarted with defibrillators.

  Shocked, she let go of it and it happened again, although it was only his arm that jolted. Amanda couldn’t take her eyes off Richard’s face, staring as his eyelids blinked, languidly at first and then more rapidly. The corners of his mouth then lifted, turning upwards ever so slightly and Amanda held her breath waiting for his pupils to focus and see her for the first time. But as suddenly as it had all begun, it was over. Richard’s arm and body became limp again and his eyes closed.

  Amanda dashed out of the room and down the corridor frantically searching for assistance.

  ‘Richard Taylor, he just moved!’ she blurted out to a confused nurse behind the reception desk. ‘He needs help.’

  ‘He just moved?’ the nurse repeated.

  ‘Yes, I put his hand to my face and his body moved and then his arm and his eyes opened. Please, can you call a doctor? I think he’s waking up.’

  *

  Amanda faced an anxious thirty-minute wait
while Doctor Jenkins examined his patient in private.

  She couldn’t prevent her imagination from working overtime, convincing herself that it was the presence of her and their baby that had brought him back into the world and she began to picture their lives together like she had when they’d first been Matched. After an unbearable delay, his doctor finally called Amanda into Richard’s room.

  ‘I’m sorry but I can’t see any substantial signs of brain activity in Mr Taylor,’ he began sympathetically.

  ‘But I’ve heard about people coming out of a coma when they hear a song or a familiar voice. Maybe that’s what’s happening to him?’

  ‘That has been the case for a rare few patients in a coma, but your friend isn’t in a coma,’ the doctor continued. ‘Please, take a seat.’

  As Amanda lowered herself and her swollen stomach into an armchair, Dr Jenkins perched on the side of Richard’s bed.

  ‘Let me explain. People in a coma are totally unresponsive, so they don’t move or react to sounds and can’t feel pain. Their brains have simply shut down to deal with whatever trauma they’ve been put through. However after Mr Taylor suffered severe brain injuries in his accident, he moved from a coma into a prolonged vegetative state. As you can see, he’s unconscious and he has no awareness of you, himself or anyone around him. However parts of his body can still move like you witnessed his arms and his eyes doing and he can yawn and even the odd word may come out, but it’s not him in control of any of it. If it continues much longer – which we suspect it will - the chances of him recovering are virtually nil. And that’s why he’s been categorised as being in a permanent vegetative state.’

  Amanda dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her top and shook her head. ‘There was more to it than that,’ she replied. ‘You said he’s not aware of anyone around him, but I’m sure he is aware of me. It was only when I held his hand to my face that this happened.’

  Dr Jenkins paused and frowned. ‘I haven’t seen you here before, can I ask what your relationship is with Mr. Taylor?’

  ‘I’ve never met him before today,’ Amanda replied, almost embarrassed. ‘I recently found out I was his Match, you know, as in his Match Your DNA Match.’

  ‘Aha. Well I have read about cases of patients like Mr. Taylor responding to those who they have a Match with. But researchers believe it’s an involuntary chemical reaction rather a cerebral one.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s not Richard, per se, who is responding to your touch. It’s his body … his receptors, his pheromones, his nerves, his muscles … recognising the feeling and the presence of its Match rather than his brain.’

  ‘Oh,’ replied Amanda, feeling totally deflated. For a moment, she’d let herself believe that the impossible had happened; that the power of their Match had woken the man she had been destined to spend her life with. But it was just their shared chemistry playing tricks on her.

  When Doctor Jenkins left the room, she spent another hour sitting in silence with Richard, her hands clasped around his, praying that his body might react to hers again. But there wasn’t even as much as a twitch. Eventually, she kissed him on the forehead and after promising to visit him again, she made her way out of the building and back towards her car.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to her baby bump and felt a twinge inside as it shuffled into a different position. Amanda knew the stress of the day was going to get worse before it got better because after packing her clothes and belongings, she was going to confront Jenny and Emma and then disappear from their world of deceit for good.

  CHAPTER 77

  CHRISTOPHER

  Amy wound her arm around Christopher’s as they plodded along the bleak, pebbled beach.

  The grey skies, howling wind, drizzle and encroaching tide didn’t put her off suggesting a long walk along Southwold beach back towards Aldeburgh, so they donned their thick jumpers and covered up with matching blue raincoats they’d purchased from a shop in town.

  They passed a paddock by the side of the path with three large, black horses sheltering behind a gate under a tree. Christopher remembered when he was a teenager he unlocked a similar paddock gate by the side of a busy road, just to see what might happen. He sat by a ditch on the opposite side and didn’t have to wait long as the Travellers’ horses in the field bolted to freedom. It was the second one to escape that collided with a VW Beetle, its head crashing through the driver’s side of the windscreen killing both of them instantly. Ever since, he held a soft spot for horses.

  ‘Shall we go somewhere for a coffee and warm up?’ Amy asked and Christopher nodded his head sharply. He despised being cold and he loathed going for long hikes. Unless they had a dog on a lead or a specific destination to reach, he didn’t see the point of just going for a walk. But he enjoyed spending time with Amy, and as being outdoors appeared to make her happy, it gave him an equal satisfaction.

  They made their way along the beach, past the brightly painted chalets, up a concrete ramp and along a high street framed by clothing boutiques, galleries and fish and chip shops, before choosing a cosy looking café.

  A young woman with wet hair and an irked expression pedalled furiously on an oversized bike to escape the drizzle, and for a split second, Christopher pondered how she might look if he pushed her under a passing car. He used to fantasise about that kind of thing frequently as he travelled on the London Underground escalators. He’d look at the opposite side of the moving staircase and play “fuck” or “kill” with anonymous female faces and it almost always resulted in more kills than fucks. However, Christopher hadn’t felt motivated to play since he’d met Amy.

  Once inside the café, they sat by the radiator, draped their wet cagoules across it and waited for a member of staff to take their order.

  ‘I know you’re a posh city boy at heart, but this isn’t too bad is it?’ asked Amy, glancing outside the window as the drizzle turned into a downpour and lashed against the glass. ‘Well, apart from the weather.’

  ‘No, it’s nice,’ Christopher replied, and meant it. He couldn’t have given two hoots about the town, but he was appreciating her company.

  ‘It’s good to get out of London sometimes just to get your head together.’

  Christopher knew precisely what she meant, although when she’d suggested taking their first weekend away together in her parents’ static holiday home by the coast, he felt something akin to anxiety. Because with just seven women left on his list before he reached his goal of thirty, he didn’t need further distractions. Distractions meant mistakes and he’d already risked losing sight of the endgame by falling into a relationship. But his desire to spend an undistracted long weekend away with Amy was greater than his need to reach his target.

  Christopher had contemplated finishing prematurely after Number Twenty-Three. At that point, he’d have still accomplished what he’d set out to do, sending a city of seven million into panic and generating news headlines worldwide. The killings and the faceless madman behind them had fascinated everyone. “What were his motives?” they asked. “How was he targeting them?” “Was there a pattern to where they lived?” “What was the significance behind the stencil mark left on pavements outside their homes?”

  Christopher was the only person able to answer each question and on occasion it stymied him not to be able to do so or to take any credit for it. However, that was the sacrifice that needed to be made for his crimes to become a thing of legend.

  ‘Can I ask you a question, Chris?’ Amy asked as their whipped cream lattes were placed on the table. She appeared a little nervous.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Christopher replied as he arranged the mugs symmetrically. ‘What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Nothing really,’ she replied and placed her hand upon his as reassurance. ‘Well, I just need to know – and I hate to be that person who brings this kind of topic up – but where do you see us going? Am I ‘it’ for you? Do you want to settle down with me and do what every other couple doe
s? I know we’re Matched but is that enough for you? Because if that’s what you want, you’ve not actually told me. I know you’re a bit different to the other guys I’ve been in relationships with, I get that, but sometimes I find you so hard to read.’

  Christopher frowned. ‘What do you mean by “different”?’

  ‘Well, you play your cards pretty close to your chest, don’t you? It’s like there are things going on under the surface that you keep from me and once upon a time, with other boyfriends, that would have been excuse enough for me to have walked away. I mean, I’m a police officer for God’s sake. It’s my job to be suspicious even with my nearest and dearest but with you, it’s… it’s different. It’s like whatever you are not telling me doesn’t really matter. It isn’t something that’s going to change my opinion of you, no matter what. It’s hard to explain but rather than making me feel insecure, it has the opposite effect - it makes me trust you more. I trust you to have your secrets and that they won’t hurt me.’

  Christopher felt a sudden urge to strip away the layers he’d spent years building and explain everything about who he was and what he’d been doing. He wanted her to know that while people had loved him in the past, he had never known how to accept it until now; how before Amy appeared he was merely living to type; but now the dark side of his nature that had formed so much of who he was, was diluting. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to be completely honest and vulnerable for someone.

  He paused and closed his eyes, opening his mouth for the big reveal. But self-preservation prevented his voice from coming out. He reminded himself that if he gave up on his mission now, then for the rest of his life, it would become his only regret. A tiny portion of him would resent Amy for coming between him and his killings and gradually that rancour would grow from a seed into a tree that would eventually block out the light that shone from her. And it scared him what he might want to do to her if he ever felt himself begrudging her.