It had been exactly the escape Laura had needed – and as such, she has not been able to bring herself to sully that time with talk of her problems. Her aunt is still in the dark, believing that the confrontation with Ryan fixed things.
Now, it is the day after Boxing Day, and Laura steps into her flat with renewed determination, after staying an extra day at her relatives’ house to gather her strength that little bit more. She looks confident as she marches around each room of her home, checking it for signs of an intruder. There is nothing.
Perhaps her stalker has got bored and gone away.
Leaning to one side at a dangerous angle, she lugs her heavy case into the bedroom. Still no sign of anything. She breathes a sigh of relief and starts to unpack, most things being flung straight into her wash basket, but one or two items she didn’t wear being set aside to hang in the wardrobe.
When she opens the wooden door to her closet, she sees something unusual.
A hanger with an olive green zip-up cover, and tied around the top is a red ribbon with a sprig of holly attached.
It is not hers.
Her hands shake as she undoes it, the pounding of blood in her ears almost drowning out the sound of the zipper. Inside is a beautiful midnight blue satin dress.
“What the…?” she mutters, pulling the dress out further so that she can get a good look.
Now she can see it properly she knows it is not satin it is silk, and looks incredibly expensive. The floor-length gown feels as cool and fluid as water as she runs the material through her fingers. The neckline drapes wonderfully from the delicate spaghetti straps, which also criss-cross the back. She knows without trying it on that it will be an ideal fit, and show off her slender waist.
It is perfect. Even the colour is just right for her pale skin and red hair.
Whoever is stalking her knows her very well indeed. Although…if they knew her that well, they would realise she never went anywhere classy enough to warrant an outfit such as this.
She photographs it then zips it back up again. Makes a note in her diary of the time and date. With a calmness that gives no evidence of the fear and fury tearing through her, she picks up her purse and heads to the big electronics shops on the estate on the edge of town. It is time for her to hit the sales, and she has something very specific in mind to buy.
***
Adam is close by, watching as ever, as the scene unfolds. Sees the wonder light up Laura’s face as she caresses the gown and studies it. Bless her, she even takes pictures of it because she is so pleased. When he sees her go out and head for the shops, he wonders if she is looking for a pair of matching shoes, and kicks himself for not buying them for her too.
***
THREE YEARS AGO
Adam was wandering aimlessly around the house at a loose end, alone and unloved, when suddenly he remembered something from his youth: the stuffed creatures that had so scared and fascinated him as a child. He had felt so guilty when his mother threw all but two of them away. He went hunting for the snarling fox and bird of paradise, and found them in the cupboard of his old bedroom. With a smile on his face, he put them on display in the hallway.
Boredom flew out of the window as he became gripped by the desire to find out how they were created. Within weeks he had become an expert in the theory of taxidermy.
His new hobby and his old obsession of finding love collided in his brain.
Adam was nothing if not practical. Though he longed for love, he was starting to realise that his was an unusual life, and that it made sense his love should be extraordinary too. After all, he already had two women’s spirits living inside him, and while he desperately hoped that his next attempt at courting would have a more traditional end… Well, he suspected that might not be the case, and his new motto sprang to mind: Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
It led to some rather interesting thoughts about how he could keep the woman he loved with him for all time, physically as well as spiritually.
At first he got quite excited about the technique of freeze-drying corpses. Increasingly popular with taxidermists, it was the preferred technique for preserving pets. He dreamed of preserving his love’s body whole too. Looking into it further, he was put off though. Freeze drying was not only expensive, it was also time-consuming – it would take well over six months for a human to be treated properly in a freeze dryer. What really dissuaded him though, was that afterwards the woman would be susceptible to being eaten by carpet beetles. That thought gave Adam the nervous giggles.
A few months later, by sheer coincidence, he was surfing the internet looking for something completely different when he stumbled across the story of Yoko Ono and her Box of Smile. She and her beau, the famous Beatle, John Lennon, had appeared on the David Frost show in 1969. In a bid to explain conceptual art, the lovers had presented Frost with a small box, little bigger than a ring box. When he opened it up all that was inside was a mirror at the bottom. Bemused, he had grinned – voila, he had provided the smile in Box of Smiles.
It was such a sweet, simple thing. Adam kept thinking about it, wishing he could somehow capture the magic smile of his own loved one for himself.
Inspiration had struck suddenly. There was a way he could use taxidermy to make his wish come true. He would use photographs and his real life knowledge to create an exact replica in clay of his beloved’s smile. At the same time, he would remove her flesh, preserve it through taxidermy, and when it was ready he could carefully place it onto the model lips. The whole thing would then go into a mirrored box where it would be preserved forever.
Yoko Ono really was an artistic genius coming up with the Box of Smiles, Adam felt. But he liked to think he was even better by taking it one step further, because he was giving the women in death the thing they had failed to discover in life – happiness.
Perhaps one day he would share his inspiration with Yoko.
***
PRESENT
The surveillance camera is not the smallest she could have bought, as the really tiny ones are quite expensive, but Laura is pleased with it nonetheless. She twirls it in her fingers, studying it from every angle, amazed such a tiny piece of electronics can do so much.
She has never looked at such things before and had been stunned at the range available – if she had wanted to blow a few hundred quid she could have purchased a camera system that was motion-activated, and had a live feed she could remotely log on to from her smartphone.
It had been tempting to hang the expense and buy that system. But her parents had raised her to always live within her means, and she was just a waitress earning very little; she could not bring herself to spend any of her inheritance, apart from when she had bought the flat, which had seemed a massive extravagance.
The camera she has gone for seemed simplest to use of all in the shop, which had been a big deciding factor. It even had some money off in the post-Christmas sales.
Which room should it go in, she ponders. The lounge, definitely. The stalker often uses it, whether to tidy it, leave flowers there or her freshly-done ironing (often still disturbingly warm-to touch when she discovers it) or of course to set out a meal for her. Plus he has to walk through the room to reach the kitchen, another frequent hive of activity.
Nervously, Laura moves it around the lounge trying to find the right location to hide it. The bookshelf, the table, even behind a cushion: she tries everywhere she can think of. Finally, she plumps for placing the camera by the television. Nestling it in amongst the other technology of her Blu-Ray player, Chrome stick, and speakers, she hopes it will be innocuous there, though she does obscure it slightly behind the photograph of her last birthday with her family.
“Wish me luck, Mum, Dad, Marcus,” she whispers to them before going to bed. Her mum would be having kittens if she were around for this.
She deadlocks the front door, piles the books beside it, and then shoves beneath her bedroom door a plastic wedge she bought from a hardware shop whilst o
ut.
“That should stop you getting in,” she shudders.
And if someone does get in, she will have a picture of them to take to the police. Then the force will have to take her seriously.
“Win/win,” she smiles grimly against the terror, pulling the duvet tightly around her and listening to the clock tick loudly once more. It is almost 3am before exhaustion drags her into sleep and she wakes just after 5am, but does not dare move until much, much later.
“Come on, come into the trap,” she urges silently. “I want to see exactly who you are.”
Finally she winkles the wedge out from beneath her bedroom door and tip toes out at around lunchtime. The books are in place by the front door, but she knows better than to feel comforted by that fact. She almost feels excited as she heads into the lounge, knowing that finally she will see her persecutor’s face.
The camera is not there.
***
Adam had laughed to himself when he had seen Laura’s preparations with her own surveillance camera. How funny that she was turning the tables on him. It is cheering and flirtatious the challenges she is making him overcome. She is asking him to prove himself to her, and he is passing with flying colours.
For the first time he feels his intellect being stimulated by a woman, and not simply his emotions. Laura is smart, and he cannot help feeling his gran would have liked her gumption. Amused by her little love game, he sneaked in and took the camera as soon as Laura had gone to sleep, chuckling to himself and shaking his head at her cheek. She is going to have to learn a bit of patience before she sees him, but he adores the fact she is so keen – clearly she has missed him as much as he has missed her.
On his way out, he had hesitated for a moment then pocketed the photograph too. Laura looked stunning in it, her smile dazzling, and really reminded him of Audrey Hepburn. He cannot wait to see what test she has in store for him next.
***
THREE YEARS AGO
Adam stood at the end of Sandra Yang’s bed, looking down on the twenty-three-year-old like a protective angel. He adored watching her slumber. Adam lived for these moments when she looked at peace, although lately she did seem to stir restlessly. Sometimes she shouted out the odd word, “no” or “help”.
At those moments he wanted to reach out and cuddle her and say: “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”
Sandra clenched and unclenched her hands fitfully then turned over in her sleep. Adam automatically stepped back before rebuking himself. Now was the time to reveal himself, he knew. It simply felt right. The only thing he was not sure of was how best to go about it.
Should he pretend to bump into her on the street and strike up a conversation now that he knew her well enough to feel confident in front of her? Or should he let her open her eyes now and see him?
It was important to get the first meeting just right, Adam felt; it would set the tone for the rest of their relationship. Sandra was such a shy, fragile young woman, with the sweetest way of smiling that pulled up one side of her mouth more than the other. A violinist, she struggled to deal with the real world, that much had been clear to him from the moment he had seen her months earlier in Covent Garden, being chivvied along by her overbearing mentor after she had performed at a nearby concert. If ever there was a woman who needed rescuing it was her, he had seen it in the grey streamers of despondency trailing behind her.
When he had followed her to her Sheffield home, he had spent some time simply watching her, cautious not to rush into a relationship this time. Not after the Irene debacle. Sandra’s first floor flat was in a former Victorian mansion, boasting high ceilings, wonderful ceiling roses and sconces, and huge sash windows. In fact, they were original features, and glided open soundlessly and easily for Adam to slip in and out of – especially as Sandra tended to sleep with them open a crack.
The more he had seen of Sandra, the more he had fallen in love. When she played violin she was transformed. Colours danced around her like fireworks exploding, her eyes closed in concentration, her short black bob swinging and swaying with her movement, reminding him of the beat of a crow’s glossy wing in flight.
She had melted his heart utterly and brought out his protective streak. He had been unable to resist looking after this helpless young thing. At first she had been so lost in her music that she had not noticed the little things he had done. Lately though, he felt that had changed and that she appreciated what he did.
So why not go for it? Fortune favoured the brave.
Besides, he knew he had to act fast as he had heard her parents talking about having her hospitalised. For some odd reason they were worried about her state of mind.
His heart bursting with love, Adam sat on the bed beside Sandra. The frame gave a gentle creak. He lay down carefully, spooning up against her, and slid his arm over her tiny form. She groaned slightly in a murmur of pleasure and nestled back into him, and Adam was in heaven.
Minutes passed and Adam felt completely at peace. Crooning her name in a low voice, he tucked the unconscious woman’s silken hair behind one ear and gently kissed her neck.
“Oh Sandra, I love you,” he whispered. “I’m here; rest easy, my love.”
Her body stiffened. She flipped over suddenly, eyes wide open.
“Who the…!” she yelled, trying to scoot away from him. But she was still in his embrace and he held her tight with one arm, clamped his hand over her mouth with the other. He was so stupid not to realise what her reaction would be. Of course he should explain who he is.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I-I’m, I’m Adam. I’m the one who’s been…l-looking after you.”
She froze, her pupils so dilated that her deep brown eyes looked black.
“Will you be quiet?”
Her eyes grew even wider.
“Yes? You’ll be quiet?” he checked.
Two seconds passed then very slowly she nodded, her eyes locked onto his the whole time.
“Okay, that’s good then.” Adam breathed a sigh of relief and eased his hand away, leaning his head down to nestle into her neck.
Sandra screamed like a runaway train. Almost deafened Adam in his right ear. He pressed his hand quickly back in place, snapping her face back with the force of his movements.
“Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,” he begged, but she was writhing against him like Lisa had done. He hooked a leg over her body and rolled on top, pinning her down with his entire body, using his weight advantage against the tiny Asian woman. Her frightened eyes looked up to him. But even behind his hand she was still screaming.
Why wouldn’t she shut up? What was wrong with her?
Adam had got no choice, he had to shut her up quickly. He pulled his left hand back, grimaced because he didn’t want to do this, but smashed her in the face anyway. Fist connected with jaw with an audible crack. That seemed to stop her, for now. Maybe he should try talking to her again?
“You’re being cruel, Adam,” said a voice he didn’t so much hear as feel. Irene’s spirit reared up inside him, soothing and scolding in equal measure. “I struggled against you too, but what I really wanted was for you to step up and take control. Be a man. Once I surrendered to you it was wonderful – feel how happy I am now.”
She was right, of course. What Sandra was really screaming for was help freeing herself of the shackles of a physical life. With Adam, she could be as free as the music she played.
“It’s true,” confirmed Lisa.
Suddenly everything made sense for Adam as he realised why fate had brought he and these women together. It was so he could release them.
He slid his hands around Sandra’s neck and let experience guide him to the best spot to dispatch her quickly. As he squeezed, he forced his lips over hers.
She struggled, because even though this was what she wanted he knew that it could not be an easy step to take. She was being so brave. But within seconds her desperate flailing weakened to pathetic little flaps, then flutters, and finally nothing
.
He felt her find peace, settling inside him and wrapping her soul around his the way a cat coils around its master’s leg. Now it was he who moaned, this time in pleasure. It was the sweetest sensation, the moment when a woman finally gave herself to him.
He looked down at her sweet lips and ran his finger over them gently, remembering the Box of Smile. Even the thought of it made a smile blossom on his own mouth as he pulled out the craft knife he had purchased specially for this event in case things went wrong.
Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.
The job would admittedly be more than a little rough because he wasn’t absolutely sure what he was doing, this being his first time and all, but it would suffice. He kissed those perfect lips once more, then let the knife bite deep into the skin until he heard metal click against teeth, and saw scarlet bloom. It made him think of the blood drops from Sleeping Beauty’s finger when she pricked herself on the spindle and fell asleep for a hundred years. It was a cheering thought as he sliced at flesh until he had cut a hole in Sandra’s face, taking a circular chunk from her chin to her nose and a decent slice of her cheeks too. He had to take as much flesh as possible to ensure the lips stayed in perfect shape and condition.
It was a shame about the rest of her but he arranged the primroses he brought with him on her chest and in her hair. Her face did not look attractive any more, not with her teeth and jawbone showing through the bloody maw he had created, but he knew she would appreciate the sentiment behind his actions.
Once he had created his Box of Smile he would hold her kiss for all eternity. He could not help feeling artists across the world would be impressed with his memorial to Sandra’s physical form.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
~ Helenium ~
Tears
Flowers for the Dead Page 26