The Girl Across the Street

by Vikki Patis

  Beth jumps, wipes the palms of her hands on her trousers. ‘Y-yes,’ she stammers, and my heart clenches. She turns to me, eyes wide and pleading. ‘I didn’t know you at first, Isla. I only knew him.’ She throws a look at Jake. ‘I had no idea what you were like. That we would become friends.’

  ‘Friends!’ Jake laughs. ‘As if you could ever really be friends. You have nothing in common.’

  I turn to glare at my husband, this man who has controlled my life for too long. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I hiss at him. ‘Beth,’ I say, softening my tone as I turn back to her. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  Fresh tears trickle down her cheeks. ‘I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. But after that night, after what happened, I wanted to get even. Why should he get away with it? Why should he go back to his comfortable life with his big house and flash car? I had nothing. And then Kyle, he…’ She trails off, a sob escaping her throat. Jake sneers at her.

  ‘You’re disgusting.’ Beth’s cheeks are growing redder as Jake speaks, her skin flaming. Shock washes over me as I remember Beth’s description of the car, her colleague sitting on the man’s lap. Bile rises in my throat.

  Jake continues: ‘You thought you’d come here and steal from me.’ His voice is laced with steel; fear and confusion shoot through me as I take in his words. ‘You even got your slimy little mate to hang around my house, sitting in that fucking car!’

  I notice the confusion in Beth’s face. ‘What mate?’ I ask. Jake glares at me, but doesn’t answer my question.

  ‘I had no choice but to deal with him. He – you – left me no choice!’ He is ranting now, running a hand through his hair. Realisation hits me like lightning and I take a step back, my mouth open in shock.

  ‘Kyle,’ I whisper. Beth’s head jerks up at the name. ‘It was you.’

  Jake glares at me. ‘They were supposed to get rid of Steve, and his shitty little car. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it sitting outside, the front bumper dented.’ He shakes his head. ‘How fucking stupid can you be?’

  Beth suddenly leaps at Jake, her hands curled into fists. Before I can move to stop her, she hits him in the jaw and he staggers backwards, falling against the wall. A high wail is coming from her as she rains blows down on him, and I can do nothing but watch her punch and kick my husband until he is sliding down the wall towards the floor.

  Almost as quickly as it arrived, the energy seems to drain from her, and she stops, breathing hard, staring down at Jake, who has his arms raised over his head. As she takes a step back, he kicks out with one foot, and she goes down, crying out as she hits the floor. Jake pulls himself to his knees and straddles her, one hand on her throat.

  ‘Jake!’ I scream, watching his face twist in anger as he tightens his grip. Beth digs her fingers into his hand, kicks her legs, but he is stronger than she is. ‘Jake! Get off her!’

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ he roars, glaring up at me. I can see blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. His face is red, his eyes blazing. A strange noise is coming from Beth; her eyes are bulging, terrified. I look around wildly for something to hit him with, to get him off her, and my eyes land on a large photo frame his mother bought us for our wedding.

  Picking it up, I smash it over his head, screaming as the glass explodes against him. He rears back, letting go of Beth and falling on to his back. I run forward and grab her by the shoulders, dragging her away as Jake screams in pain.

  ‘It’s me you want!’ I shout at him, pulling Beth to her feet. ‘Get out!’ I hiss at her, pushing her behind me.

  ‘Come with me!’ she cries, but I shake my head. This has to end.

  I turn to my husband and utter the words I have never even dared whisper to myself at night. ‘I killed your baby.’

  My words shimmer in the air between us, and I see them hit Jake like a blow. ‘I was pregnant, and now I’m not. Because you don’t deserve to be a father. You don’t have the right to fuck up someone else’s life, to raise a girl to believe she’s no better than dirt, or to raise a boy in your own image, to continue this cycle.’ I draw myself up, strengthened by my words, and by my decision. ‘It was the right thing to do. And I regret nothing.’

  Beth is pulling at my arm; I shake her off, my eyes still on Jake as he absorbs my confession. ‘Go!’ I scream as he comes at me, fury blazing in his eyes.

  Forty-Six

  Beth

  Beth scrambles to her feet and runs for the living room door. She hears a loud bang, Isla’s muffled shout, but she does not turn back.

  Coward. The word rings in her ears as she stumbles into the kitchen, searching for her phone. She pats her pockets desperately, but it isn’t there. Is it upstairs? A scream rings out and she jolts into action, grabbing a large knife from the block and running back into the living room.

  Jake has Isla by the hair, his body on top of hers. Beth can see that his lips are close to Isla’s ear, her hair tangled in his fist. Beth can’t make out what he’s saying. She lets out a cry as he smashes Isla’s face into the floor. Broken glass slices into her cheek and she screams as blood slips down her face.

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ Jake roars, and he wrenches her head up again so hard, Beth thinks her neck will break. ‘Why did I waste so much time with you?’ he screams into her face. ‘You’ve always been pathetic, good for nothing. What’s the fucking point of you?’

  ‘Enough!’ Beth screams, holding the knife in front of her. Her hand is shaking violently, but she wills it to be still. Jake looks up, a grin forming on his face.

  ‘What have you got there?’ he says, his voice light.

  ‘Get the fuck away,’ Beth says, stepping closer. ‘I mean it.’

  Jake stands and takes a jolting step back, holding up his hands. ‘All right, all right.’ He’s on the other side of Isla’s body now, almost out of her line of sight. She lifts her head again, and Beth moves towards her, glass crunching underneath her feet.

  ‘Isla, stay down,’ she says. ‘You’re badly hurt.’ Isla holds a hand up to her face. It comes away red.

  ‘It was her own fault,’ Jake sneers, and Beth jabs the knife in the air.

  ‘Shut up,’ she snarls. ‘You’ve got what you wanted, all right? She knows everything. She knows how I lied to her, tried to get money out of you. She knows we were both in that car, that you tried to pay me to fuck you.’ Jake clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing. ‘She knows, all right? Now we’re leaving. It’s over.’

  ‘It’s not over until I say it’s over,’ Jake says. Beth steps in front of Isla, still holding the knife aloft. ‘All of this is your fault, filling her head with ideas. She isn’t going anywhere.’

  ‘I am,’ Isla croaks from behind Beth. She’s on her knees now, one side of her face slippery with blood. Beth chokes down a sob at the sight of her.

  ‘Shut up,’ Jake snaps. Isla shakes her head.

  ‘I’m leaving with Beth. Tonight.’

  Jake steps forward, his eyes glittering. Beth stands firm, but her body begins to tremble as she remembers what this man has done to Isla.

  ‘Neither of you is going anywhere,’ he whispers, moving closer until the tip of the knife is resting against his chest. ‘You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.’ He directs the words at Isla before making eye contact with Beth again. ‘Both of you will pay.’

  Beth inhales, her nostrils flaring with fear, and with a violent smack, Jake knocks the knife from her hand. Then he shoves her, his hands slamming against her chest, and Beth stumbles, tripping on the rug and falling to the floor.

  ‘No!’ Isla screams as he stands over Beth. He grabs an umbrella from the coat stand, a large, wooden-handled thing, too heavy to be practical, and she shrieks in pain as he brings it down on her leg with a sickening crack.

  ‘No,’ Isla whispers, her hand outstretched. She is fumbling with something, her face hidden by her hair. ‘No.’

  Beth screams again as Jake brings the umbrella down on her stomach, and she doubles up
, curling into a ball as he hits her once more. Desperately, she looks for Isla, but she’s gone. A shadow flits across the wall, and then the umbrella comes down again. He’s going to kill me, she thinks, blinking back tears. He’s going to kill us both.

  Jake leans down then, so close she can feel his breath on her face.

  ‘You’re all the fucking same,’ he hisses. ‘Disgusting, ungrateful liars. I thought you might take the hint, but no, you had to fucking stay. Try to bleed me dry. Well, tough fucking luck.’ He lifts the umbrella again, and Beth squeezes her eyes closed, sure this will be the final blow, the blow that will end it all.

  And then, suddenly, he’s gone. She hears a sharp intake of breath, and something heavy slams on to the floor beside her. She gasps, tries to lift her head to see where he is. In the light of the moon, Beth sees Isla standing over Jake, the knife in her hand slick with blood. Jake’s blood.

  ‘Not Beth,’ Isla whispers, eyes glistening. ‘Not Beth.’

  ‘Isla!’ Beth cries. She gets unsteadily to her feet and stares down at Jake, a slice of moonlight cast across his face, the hole in his neck slick with blood. She feels another scream rise up in her, but she pushes it down. She can’t draw attention to them, to this house, to what has happened here. In that moment, the full weight of what Isla has done hits her, and she can’t breathe.

  Jake splutters, struggles to draw breath. His mouth is moving, but no sound comes out. Beth stares down at him, and a pure, powerful rage boils inside her. The fury replaces her panic about what Isla has done, about what they’re going to do next. She only knows that Isla has done this for her, this thing that Beth herself was prepared to do for Isla only moments before, and she loves her with a sudden fierceness that almost knocks her off her feet. She moves towards Isla, gently taking the knife from her hands.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she says, placing the knife on the table. She takes Isla’s hands in hers, feels Jake’s blood seep into her skin. Jake continues to splutter, hands pressed to the wound in his neck. Blood pours between his fingers, pooling on the floor between the women.

  Beth’s gaze is locked on Isla’s face, on her beautiful, broken face, scarred and covered with blood. Isla doesn’t take her eyes off Jake as he dies. She watches his chest move for the final time, sees the light go out of his eyes. When he finally stops moving, Beth feels Isla deflate, her limbs begin to tremble. She grips Isla’s hands, digging her nails into her flesh, willing her to look away, to look up at her.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she repeats, her voice stronger than she imagined it was capable of. She stares at the woman in front of her, their linked fingers hanging over the body between them. Isla looks up, and their eyes meet, and an understanding passes between them. A silent pact.

  We’re in this together.

  Forty-Seven

  Isla

  ‘We’ve got to go,’ Beth says quietly. ‘Now.’ I nod, mute, and let her guide me upstairs, shutting the living room door firmly behind us, as if to block out the horrible truth. I have killed my husband. I am a killer.

  Beth helps me into the shower, and together we wash the blood from my face and hair. I take off my wet clothes and Beth bundles them into a black bag, before shedding her own clothes and taking a shower. I see the bruises blossoming on her stomach, her legs. Is anything broken? I hear her gasp in pain as she reaches up to wash her hair, and I turn away, numb.

  My fingers drift along the surface of my dressing table, touching each pot and tube lightly with my fingertips. I glance up at the mirror, see the long cut on the side of my face, still oozing with blood. I avert my gaze, pushing my mind away from the memory of this evening, the knowledge of what I have done. We have to go. Tonight, we have to run.

  ‘Come here,’ Beth says from the doorway, wrapped in a towel. She moves towards me with a first aid kit in her hands. ‘Hopefully this will stop the bleeding. It doesn’t seem too deep, at least.’ She crouches down, carefully applies antiseptic cream to the wound. I don’t flinch away from the stinging pain, relishing it instead. I wonder if I’ll feel anything ever again. Beth frowns, ripping a plaster open and gently applying it to my face, pressing down with her fingertips. I realise my hand is bleeding again; crimson seeps through the bandage. The old wound must have opened up in my struggle with Jake. I wonder briefly if I left blood on him, marked him with it. Will the police find it, when they inevitably come? Will they find us?

  Beth looks at the dressing table, at the variety of lotions and potions. ‘What do you want to bring?’ she asks gently. I don’t turn to look.

  ‘None of it,’ I whisper, and get up from the stool. I pull out a suitcase and begin to mechanically pile clothes into it, scooping them up and shoving them in. I take out some jeans and a plain black T-shirt, and without a care for whether Beth is watching, I drop my towel and get dressed.

  ‘I’ll go and get ready,’ Beth says, turning to leave. I let her go, my mind blissfully blank. But I can feel the terror seeping in through the cracks. Focus.

  In the en suite, I grab my toiletries, throwing them into a bag and stuffing it into the suitcase. Back at the dressing table, I open a drawer and rifle through, barely registering what I move out of the way until I find what I am looking for. I raise my eyes to the mirror.

  My long hair is trailing down my back, softly curling as it dries. I brush it and pull it into a low ponytail, securing it with a band; then in one swift movement, I reach back and cut it off above the band. I drop the hair into the bin, where it falls with barely a whisper, then carefully put the scissors back in the drawer. I wince as I shake my head gently, letting the hair fall. It rests just below my chin, and a smile creeps slowly across my face.

  I am free.

  Epilogue

  The morning air is crisp, the sun just peeking over the horizon. I can smell salt on the breeze; see birds in the distance, flying across the pale blue sky. I stand on top of the cliff, as close to the edge as I dare. I am fearless now, after all.

  I know they’re coming for me. For us. We are waiting for them; every morning when I open my eyes to hear the seagulls crying and waves crashing against the rocks below my window, I expect a knock on the door. But it hasn’t come, not yet.

  I come up here every morning, usually before the sun rises, to watch the waves below. I look over my shoulder at the village, the houses spread out beneath me like a toy town. I imagine the inhabitants, locals and tourists both, slowly waking to the rising sun. I see them stumble into their little kitchens and make a cup of tea, slide bread into the toaster. I see children leaping out of bed and running downstairs, barefoot and excitable, desperate to get down to the beach. Soon the cove below will be full of people, locals and those tourists hardy enough to risk a holiday at the end of peak season. Laughter and chatter and squeals of delight will fill the air, still warm for mid-September. But for now, it is quiet. For now, the town of Fowey is mine.

  Beth is still sleeping. She likes to sleep late, wander downstairs mid-morning, ask with a yawn if there’s any coffee left in the pot. There will be a fresh pot made, and breakfast laid out on the counter – fruit and pastries bought from the bakery in the village. Every lunchtime, we wander arm in arm down to the waterfront, buying a pasty from the same bakery, giggling as we try to hide them from the seagulls circling above. They are vicious, those seagulls.

  How many days have we been here? I cannot remember. It feels like forever, and yet it has probably been no time at all. I will spend a long time in prison, I know, when they find out what I have done, when they catch me. But I am not hiding.

  When the knock comes, the thud thud thud of a fist on wood, Beth looks up at me, our eyes meeting over the small kitchen table between us. There is no fear in her eyes, only resignation. She does not know that I will tell them it was all me, that Jake was attacking her and I stabbed him to stop it. Which is the truth, after all. She will visit me, I think, unshed tears in her eyes, hands clasping mine across the table. She will miss me, maybe, as I will miss her. For despite eve
rything, she has been the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had, and for that I will always love her.

  ‘Together,’ Beth whispers, and stands up to answer the door.

  Want to read another gripping psychological thriller from Vikki Patis? You won’t be able to stop turning the pages of The Diary.

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  Your sister is gone, but she left a diary. Now someone knows your secrets…

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  Until Lauren’s father begs her to return home for the tenth anniversary of Hannah’s death. It should be a quick visit, just so Lauren can pay her respects, but Hitchin is a small town and it’s not long before she’ll have to see the friends she abandoned: the beautiful, confident young girls who once meant everything to her.

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