‘Ready when you are,’ she said, giving him a hug. She noticed that he didn’t hold her as tightly as he used to. Still, when they had made love last night he had called her darling and had swept her hair back lovingly from her face. Maybe he was having one of those mornings when he woke up feeling irritable: he’d mentioned that he sometimes felt that way.
He chatted about his latest customers as he drove towards Gloucestershire and she couldn’t help but notice that he stressed how attractive they all were. That was all she needed, Beth thought glumly, when she was feeling bloated and had patchy skin. The area beneath her nostrils was scarlet and no amount of foundation would fully cover it.
Just as she was nodding off to sleep, he said, ‘Sorted!’ and she opened her eyes to see that they were heading into the shopping centre car park. The place was mobbed and they drove up and up and up until he eventually found a parking space.
‘Can we go for a coffee first?’ Beth asked. ‘I need a fix.’
He nodded, but grimaced when they reached the cafe and he saw the queue of stressed-out couples, most of whom were carrying at least three bags each.
‘Can you get me an Americano whilst I’m having a quick look around?’
‘Consider it done,’ Beth said lightly and smiled but he didn’t smile back or wave as he reached the door. He really did seem to be going off her, she thought wearily. Should she say something? She’d never had a boyfriend who’d gone from hot to cold before. She waited patiently in line and was grateful when the male assistant flirted with her: today she felt ugly and tired and somehow unequal to everything. If Matthew would verbalize what was troubling him, she could deal with it – but the only feedback he was giving was in the form of a withdrawal of affection and disapproving looks.
She took the reassuringly large coffees over to a window seat; often she carried the conversation but today she simply didn’t have the energy so they’d have to entertain themselves by people watching. Hopefully he’d find the coat that he wanted in a relatively short space of time and they could go home.
He returned empty handed.
‘Haven’t you seen anything you like?’ she asked curiously.
‘I don’t really need anything. I’ve got lots of clothes.’
He did, but he was always buying new ones. On the last visit that she’d made to his house, she’d counted thirty dress shirts and so many jackets that he’d had to turn the spare room into a second wardrobe. He was much more interested in fashion than she.
‘You always look nice,’ she admitted. At first, when she’d complimented him he had looked pleased but now he seemed to be indifferent. Beth turned her attention to her Americano and to the little biscuit that the coffee shop had provided. ‘I’ll feel better after this,’ she clarified, as she saw him looking at his watch.
‘There’s no rush, but, if we have time I’d like to call into the supermarket on the way back, pick up something for the evening meal.’
He’d already said that he was making dinner for his adult children. He’d cooked for her a couple of times and produced a passable meal.
‘I’ve got lamb chops in the freezer that you can have.’
‘Lisa’s vegetarian.’
‘Damn – I think the nut cutlet drawer is empty,’ Beth said, and laughed.
‘Oh, I’ve got jacket potatoes and vegetarian cheese so we won’t starve.’
‘I’ll have something similar myself, something easy,’ Beth admitted. She was looking forward to crashing out on the settee alone, having a really lazy night.
‘Right, let’s get you round the shops,’ Matthew said when she was two thirds of the way through her coffee.
‘Me? Doubt if I have the energy to buy anything.’
‘You should. Gok Wan would have a field day with you.’
OK, now he was being insulting. Beth decided not to let the comment pass.
‘No, he wouldn’t,’ she said, setting down her mug. ‘He helps people who are unhappy with their appearance. I’ve never been a clothes horse, don’t particularly care.’
‘Don’t you want to be admired?’
I am, Beth thought, for my understanding and compassion. But it sounded conceited to say this so she just shrugged. It was horrible being criticized by someone who had previously bolstered her confidence, especially at a time when she was already feeling low.
They trawled round the shops but she genuinely couldn’t find the enthusiasm to try anything on. She also felt belligerent about his comments. She’d never been a particularly dressy person yet he’d found her irresistible in the first few months.
He remained quiet during a late lunch and when they walked around the docks, but he seemed to cheer up when he saw a leaflet about a comedian who was coming to the local playhouse in February.
‘We should get tickets for that,’ he said.
It was six weeks until February 1st so he still saw her as part of his future. Beth felt her spirits lift a little: their relationship was apparently faltering but he’d been distant before and then become more loving, so she hoped that his latest moodiness was just a temporary state. At his best, he was the most adoring partner imaginable and she was reluctant to lose that. She’d so enjoyed being the centre of someone’s universe again, something that she’d lost, and deeply missed, when Brian died.
‘Why not try that dress on?’ Matthew asked as they window-shopped.
Not in this lifetime.
‘I’d have to wear tights with it,’ Beth explained. ‘And I hate them. Trousers are so much more comfortable.’
‘Don’t you enjoy being ladylike?’
‘No – but I’m feminine. There’s a difference.’
She’d noticed that, like many men, he wasn’t good with nuances of language and now he just looked glum.
‘OK, let’s head off to the supermarket,’ he muttered, ‘so that I can do the Jamie Oliver bit.’
He bought the ingredients he needed whilst Beth selected a crusty white baguette, pre-sliced Cheddar and a salad pack: she was going to have a large sandwich for her evening meal followed by a bar of chocolate – and perhaps a medicinal whisky – whilst watching a comedy film on TV.
They drove back, listening to the radio, and he parked outside her house and said that he’d come in to collect his mobile, which he’d left recharging in the kitchen.
‘Do you want to stay for a coffee?’ Beth asked politely, aware that he’d driven them all the way back from Gloucester and now had another half hour drive to his own house.
‘No, the kids are waiting. I’ll better go.’
‘Well, thanks for a lovely day out,’ she said as she walked him to the door. It hadn’t been all that brilliant but she was being gracious. She put her arms around his neck and stepped closer so that she could kiss him, but he moved so that his head was over her shoulder and she could feel the tension in his limbs.
‘I enjoyed it too,’ he said with an odd little laugh. ‘It’s nice to have a day out with someone you like.’
Someone you like. He’d said that he loved her and now she’d been delegated to mere liking.
‘Well, someone you like most of the time,’ he added, pushing her away.
My God – he really had gone off her. Beth stepped back, feeling slightly nauseous, and he hurried out of the house and disappeared into his van.
What on earth had she done to warrant such a colossal change? He’d been very critical of her appearance in recent weeks but she was wearing the same type of outfits that she’d worn when she met him. She was also doing the same managerial job at the hospital and the same voluntary counselling work: nothing had changed except his attitude to her.
Could he just have been in an exceptionally bad mood? Would he reflect on his behaviour and get in touch to apologize? They weren’t seeing each other till Wednesday night when they planned to go to the cinema but surely he’d want to resolve the situation before then? Beth had been looking forward to her sandwich but now her appetite was vastly reduced and sh
e merely spread butter on a small piece of the baguette and nibbled at it. She felt shocked and somewhat dazed. Somewhat to her surprise, she fell asleep within minutes of going to bed and only woke when her alarm clock rang the following day.
Had Matthew been in touch? She checked her landline and her mobile: nada. She also checked her email but all of her messages were about work, apart from Adam who had sent her a Freudian cartoon with the message: ‘thought you’d love this as much as I did.’ At least someone appreciated her sense of humour, Beth thought wearily.
Tuesday also passed without a word from her supposed boyfriend and, by the time she woke up on Wednesday, Beth had had enough. He obviously planned to take her to the cinema as if nothing had happened, as if his recent behaviour had been fine. She was worth more than that, Beth concluded, remembering how he’d criticised her weight, her complexion, her clothes and her beloved voluntary work in the past few weeks. He’d clearly lost interest in her but lacked the courage to finish it.
She didn’t want to phone him whilst he was driving or with a customer, and it would take forever to send an explanatory text, so she decided to end the relationship by email. He didn’t deserve a face to face explanation, given how unpleasant he’d been.
Feeling angry for the first time in years, she composed a terse message:
It’s obvious from what you said when you were leaving on Sunday that you no longer have any feelings for me, and I’ve no wish to prolong the situation, so let’s end it now. Obviously there’s no need for you to turn up at any future planned events.
Late that afternoon, she got home from the hospital to find that he’d replied. ‘I’ve no idea what I said, but you’ve obviously decided that it’s over, so that’s fine by me.’
So that was it – her first relationship after widowhood wasn’t destined to be her last. She was officially single. Beth poured herself a neat whisky and curled up on the settee. The advert break came on the television, promoting a film on DVD that she and Matthew had seen at the cinema eight months earlier. Their romance had been new, then, and full of promise: in fact, he’d only let go of her hand when she wanted to sip her drink.
She needed more drink now. She poured herself a second whisky and, this time, brought the bottle into the lounge. Channel-hopping, she heard a song that he’d mentioned that he liked, something about a couple being able to rule the world if they were together. They were both alone now. Beth flicked onto the next station then slugged down more of the amber spirit, enjoying the sensation as it warmed her throat and stomach, raised her mood.
She wanted to feel pretty, to feel appreciated, to have the hope of a new relationship. Drunkenly, she dialled Adam’s home number, was pleased when he picked up the phone.
‘Hi, it’s Beth. I’ve just finished with Matthew and could use some company. I wondered if you were free tomorrow night?’
‘I knew that you were too good for him. Hang on, I’ll just check my diary.’ She waited as he rustled through the pages. ‘I’ve got a lot of work on tomorrow, but I’d love to meet up this weekend.’
That suited her fine. ‘Saturday night?’
‘It’s a date.’
She giggled at the innuendo. ‘Where shall we meet?’
‘Come round to my place for starters,’ Adam said, ‘and try my new home-made wine.’
‘Will do. Oh, hang on – I don’t have your address.’
She scribbled away as he gave her the details.
‘We can go clubbing after we finish the alcohol. You know, just as mates,’ she said.
‘We can do whatever we like.’
After ending the phone call, Beth reached for her drink then decided not to finish it. She wanted to look and feel good when she danced with Adam on Saturday night. They wouldn’t cross any boundaries, of course – they were both professionals. But it would be nice to flirt a little and feel appreciated again. She was lucky to have made such a bright and handsome new friend, someone she could look up to and learn from. Everything, she told herself firmly, was going to be fine.
THIRTY-SIX
Better and better – yet another victim had handed herself to him on a plate. He’d look forward to taking Beth up the ass after rendering her comatose. Considering that she was a counsellor, she didn’t understand human nature at all.
In fairness to the woman, she had only gone through bereavement training, wasn’t fully versed in psychology. That said, he was surprised at how few psychologists recognized that he was a psychopath. He’d realized it years ago whilst perusing the psychiatric literature in order to understand and better manipulate his many girlfriends. He was a classic case: superficially charming and able to zero in on a person’s weaknesses but unable to care about anyone except himself. Most psychopaths, of course, weren’t killers, so he’d still crossed a line when he murdered his wife.
He was aware that his parents and his brother knew that he wasn’t quite right: they’d seen his younger acts of indifference and cruelty before he learned how to mask his true self. Nowadays, he avoided all three as often as possible, lived for the present rather than carry the dead wood of his links with the past. His mother occasionally reached out to him, only to withdraw when he missed a planned get-together or said something hurtful to her. Not that she could reach out to him now, when she kept slipping in and out of consciousness. His Dad left a message on his answerphone every night with an update and he popped round to the hospital every second day for half an hour, just to look as if he cared and so that he had more chance of eventually being left money in his father’s will. It was easier to sit by her bedside now that Nicholas and Jill were no longer there, were apparently at home, tranquillized to the hilt and wallowing in grief over their lost boy.
His own life was improving by the minute, especially now that he was going to fuck Beth on Saturday. She’d be feeling vulnerable and confused and he’d be the manly friend who made her feel attractive and charismatic again. They’d listen to some music, maybe dance with their arms around each other or curl up companionably on the settee, start to kiss. He’d add the date rape drug to her drink at some stage after the kissing so that he could go much further than first base.
He wasn’t really working on Thursday and Friday night, was actually going to a Bristol casino. He merely wanted to savour the thought of taking her, spend the next two days planning every possible deviant act. He’d keep her drugged for many self-indulgent hours, adding a couple of Valium to the mix if necessary, and would return her to her own apartment in a semi-comatose state. She’d think – and he’d confirm if asked – that she’d spent the evening drowning her sorrows with his home-made wine, that she’d passed out from too much alcohol. It would be good practice for his next victim, the increasingly merry widow Olivia. She’d recovered remarkably quickly from childbirth and, if her flirtatious comments were to be believed, had apparently got her sex drive back. Her eyes said ‘take me now, take me hard’ and he was increasingly tempted. He’d book her in soon for the last appointment of the day.
The highlight of her week was her visit to Adam, Olivia admitted to herself as she sat in her bedroom, blow-drying her recently highlighted hair. Getting ready to see him was like going on a date with someone that she really fancied and, to her chagrin, she was slightly breathless and her underarms kept getting wet. She felt like a schoolgirl, which was exactly what she’d been when she started dating her first love, Marc. He was at work, of course, had no idea how much effort she put in to her appearance before each undercover assignment. Nowadays, she felt more like a woman and less like a cop.
As usual, she took the train from Dorchester to Weston and, on her arrival, used her special mobile to connect with her colleagues. They verified that they were already doing surveillance from the house across the road. Fortunately they couldn’t see or hear her interaction with Adam, though knowing that they watched her arrive and leave made her feel self-conscious, on display. Had they noticed that her tops had become lower, her skirts tighter? Were they
commenting on the fact that she’d started to wear fuck-me shoes?
He took longer than usual to answer the door and, for a moment, her mood lowered. Had he gone out? She wanted to complain further about Zak, admitting that her late husband had annoyed her with his various bad habits. In reality, she was often describing Marc.
‘Olivia! You’re looking well.’
She should do – she’d bought new jeans and a vintage top, smart yet casual. She’d also spent sixty quid on a jasmine-based perfume that she thought was especially sensuous. She wondered briefly if she could claim everything on expenses, almost giggled at the thought.
‘I feel well. Mrs Penrose looks after Mia all the time so I’m practically a free agent.’
See me as a young woman rather than a mother.
‘Everybody needs good neighbours – or so they tell me! Next door’s cat is intent on destroying this place.’
‘Oh, I’ve seen her – she’s huge. You wouldn’t like your own pet?’
She watched him hesitate. ‘I love animals but I sometimes have to travel for my work. It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘You don’t have a friend who could feed it?’
‘I had a lodger, but unfortunately he died and most of my friends have moved away to follow their careers. I’m equally short of relatives.’
‘A girlfriend?’
‘No one will have me,’ Adam said and laughed loudly. ‘But we’re not here to talk about my solitude.’
He indicated the couch and she gratefully stretched out on it, turned on her side to face him. He smiled at her as he took his seat.
‘So, how have you been? I mean in emotional terms?’
‘Surprisingly OK.’ The increasingly live-for-today Olivia that she was creating had very few problems. She was working from home and had a doting older woman to care for her child.
‘Sleeping better?’
‘Like a rock! Wonder how that particular saying originated?’
Extinction Page 16