by Anthony Burn
As the hammer went down on the stranger’s last bid, I agreed. ‘I’m sorry. It was worth a try.’
She gave me a half-hearted smile and we got up to leave. I caught Bill Rogers’ eye as we approached the exit, and as he nodded to me there was a definite smirk playing on his lips.
Two minutes later, and just over an hour earlier, I came out of the bathroom again. I hadn’t fully decided what I was going to do, but a plan coalesced when I saw Bill Rogers talking to his companion. I walked up to them as they were parting, and I saw Bill signal the other man to wait before he turned to me.
‘Good to see you again,’ he said with the same cold smile he’d given me on the viewing day.
‘I just wanted to thank you for your advice,’ I told him. ‘We’re going to avoid that picture, but we’ve got two others that we’re going for.’
‘Happy to help,’ he replied. ‘Which ones are you interested in?’
‘I couldn’t tell you. Lauren’s got the details. I’m just along for moral support.’
‘Well, good luck to you,’ he said, but as I thanked him and walked away I saw him beckon his associate, presumably to give him fresh instructions.
Having made my way back to Lauren and persuaded her to swap seats again, I borrowed her catalogue to study the lots that were coming up before ours. I found two with similar estimates to the one we were going for, neither of which I cared for, but that didn’t matter because I had no intention of buying them.
I had to wait nearly forty-five minutes for the first of the two, and in that time I noticed that Bill’s friend was watching us more intently than he had before. I was certain that he was waiting for us to bid.
‘Do you mind if I try a quick experiment?’ I asked Lauren. ‘Can I borrow the paddle?’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I just want to have a go,’ I smiled, and raised the paddle as the bidding started.
‘Be careful,’ she whispered urgently, ‘you might buy something you don’t want.’
With little interest from the room, it wasn’t long before the competition was between me and Bill Rogers’ man, but as we pushed the price ever higher, Lauren’s entreaties for me to stop became unrelenting. The other guy finally dropped out at four hundred thousand, leaving me with the winning bid at four hundred and twenty.
Lauren stared at me in alarm. ‘I told you to be careful. We don’t want that and you’ve paid much more than it’s worth.’
I laughed. ‘Maybe I can flog it on Ebay.’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘Why are you joking about this? With costs, you’ve spent half a million. I don’t want it in the gallery.’
‘It’s not for the gallery,’ I told her. ‘It’s for me. A long-term investment.’
‘You’ll never make your money back on that.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain everything soon, I promise, but right now I’ve got to bid on this.’
The second lot I’d chosen came up, and I went through the same process again. This time Lauren said nothing, but watched the proceedings with a bemused expression. The other guy dropped out at four hundred thousand again and I’d bought a second painting I didn’t want, but now I had a very clear idea of his limit.
‘Kee, why on earth are you doing this?’ Lauren hissed at me.
‘I will tell you,’ I promised her as I handed back the paddle, ‘but right now your lot is coming up. Do your stuff.’
I watched her lose the lot in exactly the same way as she had the first time. I led her out of the sale room and told her I’d let her know why I’d bought the other two paintings as soon as I’d been to the bathroom.
As I made my way to my seat for the third time, I was beginning to get tired and fed up with the whole affair. I’d been sitting for nearly two and a half hours, and the prospect of another hour or so was uninviting. I berated myself for having originally gone to the restroom so early. It had forced me to turn back the time a long way on each occasion; but I remembered that if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have seen the exchange between the men from the Hanniden, and wouldn’t have known who I was up against.
On my way in this time, I’d had exactly the same conversation with Bill Rogers as I’d had previously, and now I knew I didn’t need to watch the other guy.
The next forty-five minutes dragged by and my buttocks became numb, making me irritable as I fidgeted in my seat. The auction finally came to the first of my two lots, and just as I felt the need to focus, Lauren chose that moment to ask if I was alright.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I said shortly as I took the paddle from her lap and held it in the air.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered, a perturbed expression on her face.
My reply was terse because I needed to concentrate. ‘Wait and see.’
‘We don’t want this one.’
‘I know what I’m doing,’ I snapped.
She sat back and folded her arms tightly across her chest, but I didn’t have time to take notice of the scowl on her face. The bidding went up quickly, but this time when it reached two hundred and fifty thousand I dropped the paddle and shook my head, relaxing as my opponent bought the picture that I didn’t want.
I turned to Lauren, and saw her flushed bitter expression. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Why did you bid on that one?’ she asked irritably.
‘Don’t worry, I had no intention of buying it,’ I told her.
‘Oh, so you made that poor man pay more than he needed to just for the hell of it. That’s not very fair.’
‘He could have dropped out at any time,’ I growled.
‘Not if he really wanted it,’ she retorted.
‘He’s working for Bill Rogers. He’s only bidding if we bid first.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘If you don’t think so, just watch him.’
‘No, I won’t,’ she said. Her voice was defiant, but I could see her eyes darting in his direction.
Bidding started on the second lot I’d chosen but I made no attempt to join in. ‘Is he bidding?’ I asked Lauren, even though I knew he wasn’t.
She ignored me and made a show of looking the other way.
‘Watch him,’ I said firmly.
The bidding came towards a close, but as the auctioneer raised his gavel I put up my paddle. Bill’s man made sure no one else was going to bid against me and raised his own. I held mine up again, and once more he followed suit. But before I could make another bid, Lauren grabbed my arm to hold it down and shook her head at the man on the rostrum. He looked enquiringly at me and I signalled a reluctant negative. He failed to suppress a grin, and scanned the rest of the room before putting the hammer down.
My opponent had secured the second painting for less than I’d wanted him to pay, but hopefully it was enough to curtail his bidding on our picture.
‘See, I told you,’ I said to Lauren.
‘You’re being stupid. It was just a coincidence.’
‘In that case, watch and see when he starts bidding on our painting.’
‘Well, you’re wrong there, Mr Know-It-All. He’s leaving,’ she answered sullenly.
I turned and breathed a sigh of relief as I watched him go, but I didn’t have time to explain that it was because I’d pushed him to his limit.
‘Okay, your turn,’ I said, handing Lauren the paddle as our painting came up.
‘You’re the fucking expert. You do it,’ she snarled and turned her back on me.
I wanted to criticise her childishness but the bidding had started, and I had no choice other than to do as she said.
With my rival out of the running, I secured the painting for two hundred and ninety thousand. I turned triumphantly to Lauren, but she was already getting to her feet without speaking or looking at me. I followed her out of the saleroom, and as we reached the foyer I tried to put my arm around her shoulder, but she shrugged it away.
I wasn’t going to have an argument with her in the auction house, so I sa
id, ‘Why don’t you hail a cab while I return the bidding paddle?’
Her response was to turn away; the tension in her body was evident even from behind as she made her way to the exit. I felt my own temper rising as I stared after her before I joined a short queue to hand in the paddle and complete the paperwork. It took no more than a few minutes, but when I’d finished I could see through the doors that Lauren had stopped a taxi and was climbing in. I hurried to join her, but before I reached the street her door had closed and the cab was driving away.
My anger surged as I watched her disappear into the distance and increased further when it took me ten more minutes to find another taxi. By the time I reached home, having crawled through the early evening traffic, I was livid. I walked into the flat to find that Lauren had taken off her coat and thrown it on the floor and was standing with a glass of wine in her hand, staring resolutely through the window into the darkness.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ I growled at her.
‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ she snapped back.
‘Why are you being so childish?’
She turned to face me, her expression more hostile than I’d ever seen. ‘Maybe because you fucking well treat me like one.’
‘That’s not true,’ I barked.
Her voice grew louder and her tone became snide. ‘Oh no? Let me see. “I trust your judgement, Lauren. You’re in charge, Lauren. You make the decisions, Lauren.” And then you snatch the paddle from me without even asking, to get into some sort of dick measuring contest with a complete stranger, and it’s “I know what I’m doing” – like I fucking don’t. That’s exactly what my last boss used to do.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ I yelled. ‘That guy was going to outbid us on our painting if I didn’t stop him.’
‘That’s bullshit,’ she bawled. ‘You couldn’t possibly know that.’
‘I do know that,’ I retorted, but I couldn’t explain how I knew. ‘He was working for Bill Rogers. You saw he only made a bid when I did.’
She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again and I could tell she’d seen the truth in my last statement but didn’t want to admit it. Without warning, she flung open the door and ran out onto the roof terrace. I followed her, and immediately shivered as an icy winter blast whistled around the building.
She turned to me, hugging herself through her lightweight dress, her bare arms covered in goosebumps. ‘You’re talking crap!’ she shouted. ‘Bill Rogers wouldn’t risk his reputation—’
‘Don’t be so naive,’ I said. ‘That’s why he got the other guy to do it. Come back inside. It’s too cold out here.’
‘You don’t know that. He wasn’t even interested in our picture.’
‘I do know that. I saw them talking before the sale and it was obvious what they were up to. Will you please come inside? You’ll freeze out here.’
‘Maybe I want to fucking freeze!’ she screamed at me. ‘You can go in if you want – at least then I won’t have to listen to this shit anymore.’
‘Now you’re just being stupid.’
‘Don’t you dare call me stupid. If I’m fucking stupid then you’re an asshole.’
I’d had enough. The argument had degenerated into name-calling, and I was acutely aware that her voice was not only carrying across the river but was also loud enough for all of our neighbours to hear. Embarrassed by rowing in public, I picked her up and carried her back inside, kicking the door closed behind me. She fought and swore at me all the way into the kitchen, where she slapped my face and shouted at me to put her down. I’d planned to carry her to the lounge, but I was so angry that I lifted her up high and dumped her down hard on the kitchen worktop.
She yelped, and I could tell her coccyx had hit the surface and jolted her spine. Her eyes filled with tears, and her flushed face creased into hatred as she cursed again. But suddenly, no amount of spite was going to have any effect on me. With her first cry of pain, my anger had turned to arousal, and with that, even if I wanted to, my libido was not going to allow me to stop.
I grabbed her hair, yanking her head back as I reached with my other hand for the neck of her dress and tore it all the way down the front. I released her hair to pull away her clothes, and she gasped as she stared down at the ripped fabric.
‘No,’ she screamed, stretching the single syllable out long enough to give no doubt of her indignation, and started slapping and kicking at me again.
I punched her just to make her stop, but it had the usual effect of boosting my desire. The bewildered look appeared briefly on her face, but was replaced by heightened anger when she fell backwards. I grabbed her by the throat, to hold her flailing body against the counter while I pulled at her underwear. I ripped her knickers away, but I caught a flash of light in the corner of my eye.
Somehow, Lauren had managed to pull a kitchen knife from the block on the worktop and was pointing it menacingly. I had no idea if she intended to use it or just to threaten me, but even with one hand still holding her down I was easily able to wrestle it from her grip. In a state of confusion, I looked at the knife, then down to her near-naked body and back to the knife again as if I had no idea what it was doing in my hand.
Then I cut her.
She screamed. A high-pitched squeal. The kind I had never heard before. I was unable to believe any human being was capable of making that sort of noise, but far from being appalled I was fascinated by the sound, so I cut her again.
And again.
And again.
Twenty-eight
By the time I’d finished she was dead. Not just dead, but completely butchered. Her body was a bloody mess, and barely recognisable as human, let alone as the woman I loved. Yet here she was, mutilated beyond comprehension by my hand.
It was only after I’d climaxed that I’d come to my senses and understood the full extent of my monstrosity. It wasn’t that I hadn’t known what I was doing – I’d been in total command of my faculties – but up until that point it hadn’t felt in any way wrong. It was almost as if I’d been a spectator, watching with heightened intrigue as she screamed and pleaded while she tried to defend herself with growing futility. Except I wasn’t some morbid onlooker. I could have stopped at any time, but I simply hadn’t wanted to until I was done.
I felt every negative emotion bearing down on me; guilt, remorse, despair and self-loathing ripped through to my core as though each were fighting for dominance. But it was revulsion that got the upper hand as I repeatedly replayed every abomination in my mind. I felt the pain of every cut I’d inflicted, of every scream I’d elicited, of every desecration. All for a brief thrill. I hadn’t even entered her. But the knife had, over and over again.
My nausea grew at the thought of it and escalated out of control when I looked around the room for the first time. Lauren’s blood was spattered over every surface in the kitchen, and had spurted well beyond the dining area into the lounge. I could feel the bile rising inside me, and knew I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom so I turned and threw up into the kitchen sink. As I retched, I sobbed in between spasms. I knew I was going to turn back time to put this right, but that knowledge offered me no comfort.
I was brought to reality by the sound of hammering at the front door. I heard my neighbour from downstairs calling out that he’d heard screaming and asking if everything was okay. When I didn’t answer he knocked again and shouted that he was going to call the police. I shook my head in amazement at his bravery in coming up after the commotion and not knowing what he might confront.
I recovered my composure and went through to the bathroom, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind me. The sight of myself in the mirror brought a fresh wave of anguish. I was smeared in gore from head to toe. My hair and clothes were caked with Lauren’s congealed blood, and there wasn’t a part of my exposed skin that wasn’t stained red. I turned away quickly, unable to stomach more than a brief glance, before emptying my pockets and stripping off. I was going to lose the
blood-soaked clothes forever, but my wallet, phone and keys had to come back in time with me. I stepped into the shower cubicle, and with my belongings tucked under my arm, I turned the device.
It wouldn’t budge.
I glared at it in disbelief with my pulse accelerating. I grabbed a towel to wipe blood from the gadget and tried again. Still it would not move. My panic rose to hysteria. I tried to force it, but with no effect. I screamed at the thing as I tried again and again. My body began to weaken, and my legs buckled under as dread swept through me.
The consequences of my actions were suddenly brought into sharp relief. The police were on their way and Lauren’s dead body was in the kitchen; my prints were all over the murder weapon, and a trail of blood led through to me. I had no escape and no excuse. There was nothing I could do or say in mitigation. But all of that paled into insignificance at the thought of having lost Lauren. I’d killed her, and had no hope of getting her back. That one thought filled me with more dread than any idea of being hauled away for questioning, facing a trial or being sent to prison for the rest of my life. There was no punishment that could even begin to compare with the penalty of losing her – of having done that to her.
I collapsed to my knees, my belongings falling from under my arm and clattering to the cubicle floor while I gazed helplessly at the time device, unable to comprehend why it had chosen this instant to stop working. I wrestled with the perception that somehow this is what it had planned for me all along, that it had always had a secret agenda. That it was evil. My emotions were shattered; I could feel the gadget beginning to slip from my fingers and my body dropping to the floor, when a burst of adrenalin rushed through me.
My grip tightened on the device, and I stared into my hands while I bemoaned my stupidity: I’d been trying to turn it the wrong way! I’d had the time turner for about eighteen months and used it countless times, but apart from the day I’d found it, I’d never tried to turn it the other way. I could only put it down to my torment and panic, but still couldn’t believe I’d made such a ridiculous error.