Keep Your Friends Close

by June Taylor

  Once across Lawnswood roundabout, dodging the ring road traffic, her mood changed. This was starting to feel like the walk of shame the nearer she got to her destination. Karin wasn’t afraid of prison: she could handle that. It was all the things leading up to prison – the questions, the guilt, the shame, newspaper allegations, social media revelling in the scandal – all of that terrified her the most. Then even more questions. The arrest. The trial.

  Humiliation.

  She imagined the headlines: Voice of a generation on killing spree. Charity worker kills homeless man. Svendsen daughter brings shame on the brand. Svendsen daughter hangs stepdad. Kills former girlfriend.

  Despite the inevitable backlash, however, the truth was the only thing left for Karin and she fully intended to get it out there. Her mother could tell them about her stepdad; it might even bring her some closure. But the rest was for Karin. She would inform them that she last saw Will on that Tuesday afternoon on Woodhouse Ridge. Not Tuesday morning, as Mel had said. She would tell them that Will was scared, that he had bottles of whisky stuffed into his pockets when he didn’t even drink, and that he had told Karin to watch her back. She would tell them that Mel had falsely accused Will of stealing, planted some of Karin’s jewellery at the scene. And she would suggest that they look at the CCTV footage from Tesco Express in town on the Thursday night, just before it shut at eleven, the night Will was drowned. Mel had said she was going to pop in there on her way to the taxi rank. And they might also like to check the CCTV footage in their local off-licence in Headingley. It was likely that the bottles of whisky Mel had purchased would match those found on Will at the scene.

  Karin intended to tell them about the blackmail notes too, even though they were probably destroyed by now. She would have to tell them about Louie, that she was dead. But Karin would emphasize that Louie had only been trying to keep the money safe, until they finally got to her as well and then she took her own life. They would accuse Karin of killing her, because there was a knife somewhere with her prints all over it. But she would tell them how Aaron had prevented her from calling an ambulance, and how he got rid of the body by burning it. Karin still had the tin of bones to prove it, much to her horror and revulsion.

  There was also the rainbow keyring which Karin had given to Will on the Ridge on that Tuesday afternoon. The rainbow keyring which then ended up in Mel’s possession, proving she had seen him again when she said that she hadn’t.

  Sadly, not much of this amounted to anything in the way of solid evidence and the keyring was no proof whatsoever, only for Karin. Unless they could get CCTV footage to match the whisky bottles, really the only thing Karin could prove was that the money had gone from her account into Louie’s, and then from there into Mel’s and Aaron’s.

  The pair ought to be relatively easy to track down though. Karin very much doubted they would have gone to the trouble of false names and passports, because they were not expecting her to go to the police. Once they were caught and brought back for questioning, then the spotlight would be turned on her. But that was okay. Justice for Will was her main concern, or at least to clear his name.

  If she went down, then Mel and Aaron would too. She would make sure of that, even if it was only blackmail they could be charged with.

  Karin had been so busy working these things through in her mind that she hadn’t noticed she was already at the long driveway leading down to the police station. She came to an abrupt stop, before turning into it.

  Come on, Karin. This is for Will. Do this for Will.

  Inhaling her last breath of freedom, puffing it out again in one long exhalation, she was ready to do this.

  It was rapid, the hand over her mouth, feeling engulfed. She tried to scream but couldn’t breathe. Birds were tweeting, too loudly, in her ears. Clouds swirled above her head, morphing into terrifying shapes. The crack in the pavement widened as she was falling into it.

  The last thing she remembered was being bundled into a car.

  54

  Louie

  It was going to come as a shock for Karin to see her return from the dead. She had been lying low for a couple of days, to allow the full effect of her death to sink in. But Louie was keeping a watchful eye on her all the same, making sure she didn’t do anything stupid.

  Two days ago, she was stabbed on Aaron’s kitchen floor, carried out in a rolled-up rug, her body then disposed of by incineration in some rusted oil drum on a remote building site under cover of darkness. And now here she was.

  Alive.

  Louie hadn’t wanted to add the stress of Karin’s fingerprints being on the knife. It was Aaron insisting on that, but she later discovered that he was taking orders from a woman called Mel, Karin’s housemate, who had been behind the blackmail all along.

  Karin’s pain would soon be over. And Louie’s too. As from today, there was nothing stopping them from being together.

  The moment she saw Karin step out of Ashby Road that morning, her stomach had spun with excitement. She thought of the two of them setting up home together, a sweet little place by the sea, where Louie could paint – she got an offer of an exhibition from a gallery in Manchester yesterday – and Karin could do her campaigning and lobbying, if she wanted to keep on with that. Maybe they would have a dog, take it for walks on the beach. The kids would love that too.

  Karin had set off with a firm purpose in mind, head down, walking briskly, and Louie thought she may have an idea where she was heading. The appearance of £100,000 in her account this morning was bound to make her curious. Her first thought would be that it was from her mother, however unlikely that might seem, although Louie was aware that she had been up to Scotland to pay her a visit in the last couple of days. Alternatively, if Karin had already seen that the deposit was from Seahorse Studio then she would be heading to the bank to clarify how on earth this deposit could have got there when Louie was dead.

  Louie slowed down, indicating to pull in, not wanting to get too far ahead. Seeing Karin pass the cricket ground, Louie had to stop herself from lowering the window and calling out to her. She had to choose her moment carefully to come back from the dead. Maybe wait until after Karin had been to the bank.

  Karin went straight past it, however, and was now crossing the road, dodging the cars decelerating for the traffic lights. At one point she stopped completely, turning round, and Louie ducked down quickly, thinking she may have been seen. Thankfully Karin carried on walking. So her next assumption was that Karin was going to Sainsbury’s, as she was heading along the Arndale. Assuming this to be the case, Louie almost turned into the car park, but Karin continued up Otley Road, passing The New Inn, The Three Horseshoes, St Chad’s Church, the BP garage, Lawnswood School.

  She kept on going.

  Louie was growing more and more concerned, and when Karin crossed over the roundabout, she knew for certain where she was heading.

  She had to be stopped.

  55

  Karin

  Karin opened her eyes, sensitive to the light streaming into her face. From somewhere. She tried to work out where it was coming from, but it was too bright even with her arm across her face. Slowly, feeling herself returning to some kind of normality, she realized that she was sitting in the back of a car. There was an outline of a person in front of her. Karin tried to focus but the light was still too bright for her to distinguish anything clearly.

  Was it Louie?

  Her eyes darted side to side. Frantically trying to make sense of what they could be seeing.

  Karin screamed, struggling to unlock the door.

  ‘You fainted,’ said Louie. ‘I’m sorry I shocked you.’

  They were parked outside the crematorium, down a quiet side street. Was this really happening? How on earth could it be Louie when she was already dead? Was she haunting her so soon?

  ‘Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s me. It’s me, don’t be scared.’

  ‘No,’ Karin whimpered, trying the other door, kicking it when it wou
ldn’t open. Eventually she gave up and stared at Louie’s ghost. ‘What’s going ON?’ she shrieked, bashing on the window with her fist.

  ‘Calm down. I didn’t really die, Karin. Look, I’m fine. See. All intact.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  Karin felt her lungs shrinking as she was gasping for air. She really had to get out of this car. ‘But you were dead,’ she wailed, pulling at the door handle in further desperation. ‘I saw you lying on the floor. The knife, you stabbed yourself. You were bleeding. There was blood all over the place. Please, just let me out.’

  ‘Fake knife, fake blood,’ said Louie. ‘Easy.’

  Karin was shaking her head, refusing to accept. ‘The bones. In the tin. They were all black and burned, it was horrible.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. I think he must have got some animal ones. God knows why he thought he had to do that. I’m really, really sorry for making you think I was dead, Karin, but I had to save you from those bastards somehow. I negotiated a hundred grand for you though.’

  ‘What?’

  Karin blinked. It really did seem like Louie, nodding and smiling at her in the front of this car.

  ‘I’d have kept the lot if I thought they’d leave you alone,’ she said. ‘But that was never going to happen.’

  Karin reached out to touch her arm. It felt solid enough.

  ‘It is me, Karin. Honest.’

  This was all too disturbing.

  ‘Why-why did you have to kill yourself though? Or pretend to kill yourself? I don’t get it, I just don’t get it. I need to get out; please let me out.’ Karin was struggling to breathe again, and scraped her fingers down the window. Louie must have lowered it because it started to go down. Karin stuck her head out to gulp some fresher air.

  ‘I needed you to tell me that you loved me, Karin. I needed to hear it, and you had to admit it to yourself. It was the only way. You ran out on me, and I never got to know why, not until I was lying there dead to you on the floor. And of course he needed to hear it too, slimy old bastard. It was the moment of truth for both of us. Me or him.’

  Karin felt dizzy. Maybe she was the one dead? This wasn’t happening. Maybe she was the one who died on the kitchen floor?

  ‘I realize now that he wasn’t the one blackmailing you,’ said Louie, carrying on regardless. ‘But to be honest, it didn’t take him long to want the money paid into his account and not yours. He couldn’t bear the thought of us ever being together.’ She laughed. ‘Hey you’re safe now though, Karin. You’re rid of them both, and we’re free to live our lives in the way that we want to. We can go anywhere. Together. You and me, fresh start. Get a place by the sea. I know you’d like that too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Maybe you need a brandy. You look like you do. Or a coffee?’

  ‘No!’ Karin banged on the door with her fists, then kicking it. ‘Just let me out. I’m going to the police. Open the door, Louie. I have to do this.’

  ‘You know I can’t let you do that.’

  ‘She killed Will. She confessed. Mel did it. Please, Louie, I have it all worked out and I’m going to say that you tried to protect me, which you did. You’ll be fine, I promise.’

  Louie jumped into the back seat to be alongside her. ‘It’s okay. Shush,’ she said, pulling Karin into her chest.

  Karin watched her tears soak into Louie’s jacket, like snow melting.

  ‘They won’t believe you,’ Louie continued. ‘And then your mother will say terrible things about you killing your stepdad. It will all come out.’

  Karin sat up again.

  ‘Exactly. I’m going to prison for a long time, whatever happens. Even if I don’t turn myself in, my mother will do it for me. I went to see her. She’s still angry with me, and I hated seeing her like that, she’s so lonely. So you can’t stop this, Louie. But I’m going to get justice for Will.’

  Louie punched the back seat. Then sprang into the front again and started up the engine. As she drove off, the smell of burning rubber filled the car.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Karin. ‘I said, where are we going? Louie.’

  56

  Louie

  Morecambe felt different somehow, but in a good way. She was bringing Karin home, restoring the natural order of things.

  It already felt perfect.

  Karin’s phone started to ring. It sounded muffled because it was in the storage box under Louie’s arm where she had confiscated it.

  ‘Home sweet home,’ said Louie, pulling on the handbrake outside their bedsit off Albert Road. ‘You might find it untidier than when you left, I’m afraid. We’ll soon get it back to how it was.’

  ‘Lou, please. I need to be in Leeds. I have to speak to the policewoman who’s dealing with Will’s case.’

  ‘Don’t waste your life going to jail for that lot. They were complete shits, and that’s including your stepdad. Your place is here with me.’

  ‘Will wasn’t a complete shit. He was my friend.’

  ‘I’ve got an offer of an exhibition in Manchester. Good news, hey?’

  Give her time. It’s a lot to take in.

  She flipped up the armrest and took out Karin’s phone. One missed call from the charity that she worked for. ‘Tell them you won’t be in today,’ said Louie, handing it back to her. ‘And don’t say anything stupid.’

  Louie had been looking forward to this moment for such a long time, picturing them racing upstairs hand-in-hand, both of them yearning to get inside so they could just tumble into bed together.

  Not like this.

  Not with Karin dragging herself up three flights of stairs, saying how much she didn’t want to be in Morecambe. That she would rather be in a prison cell because that was where she belonged.

  Was it really going to end here?

  57

  Karin

  It still felt the same. The same smell in the stairwell. The same cooking fumes from the flat below theirs. The same voices on the same TV – still on too loud – escaping from under the same door on the second floor. The same baby crying, except it must be a different one by now, and the same person putting rubbish outside the same flat, instead of taking it down to the same bin in the same bin store out in the same back yard.

  It surprised her, but as she climbed the stairs it was slowly starting to feel okay. Then as Louie was opening the door, she felt her nerves scratching away at the lining of her stomach. But it was a good nervous.

  Maybe.

  ‘Oh wow. You’ve still got her,’ Karin said, laughing.

  The mannequin was dressed in some of her clothes that she had left behind. Karin remembered carrying it all the way home that day, having spotted it in a skip outside a shop that was closing down, and had struggled with it through town, people staring. But it was worth it because she knew Louie would love it. They dressed her in outfits and stood her at the window. Or lay her down on the sofa. One time, Louie had put her in bed under the duvet and scared the life out of Karin. Louie liked to paint her, and it became a special theme in her work. They would go on days out, just so they could create a particular scene with it.

  Karin removed the hat from the mannequin, straightening up the wig, and put the hat on her own head. ‘Hey, that’s my silk scarf I lost on the beach,’ she said, tugging it free. ‘I thought I recognized it when you wrapped it round my hand that day. When you kidnapped me the first time.’

  Louie gave her a guilty grin. ‘Yes, but I’ve washed it now,’ she replied, choosing to ignore the kidnapping reference. ‘I wanted to hold onto it, hoping you’d be back here one day and I could return it to you. But if that didn’t happen, well at least I had that, didn’t I?’

  Karin returned it to the mannequin. ‘You hang onto it then. Until I get out.’

  ‘Out of where?’

  ‘Prison.’

  Louie stomped across the floor and flopped down onto the sofa. Karin noticed there were no chairs in here now. The table was still in its rightful
place but with nothing to sit on. Not much seemed to have changed apart from that. It was untidy, like Louie said, and the studio part seemed to have spilled out into the rest of the space. That old screen she had made wasn’t anywhere visible. The bed was messy, the duvet not straightened and things piled on top of it. Karin had always kept that tidy too; she liked a neat bed. ‘It’s a bed, not a desk,’ she would say.

  ‘I can’t let you do it, Karin. I’d rather die than see you go to prison.’

  Karin sat down beside her. ‘You’ve already done that once,’ she said. ‘Died, I mean. I don’t want that to happen again. Look Lou, you’re a brilliant artist and you need to focus on that. And maybe you should move away from here. Maybe there are too many memories for you in Morecambe.’

  ‘For me or for you?’

  ‘I have to take what’s coming to me and let the courts decide. That is what I need to do. And when I come out, we can decide if we want to be together. Things might have changed by then. But if not—’

  Louie was crying. She never cried. She would rather inflict physical pain on herself than shed tears. Karin held onto her, rocking her back and forth. It was tender and sweet. Despite there being plenty of joy and laughter in the relationship at one time, their love was underpinned by a rawness. There was a kind of rough fragility to it. The passion that burned between them, driven by their own separate rage. They were two damaged pebbles washed up on Morecambe beach.

  But this felt different.

  Maybe they had grown up.

  They sat for a whole hour in each other’s arms. Afterwards, they took a stroll along the promenade. Karin said she didn’t want to go onto the beach. Not this one. Too many memories on Morecambe beach. So they sat on the end of the pier with a cheap bottle of wine, huddled under a blanket.