The Woman Next Door(26)

The door is open and then it is closed again. She is gone. The outside world is once more sealed away.

Melissa goes back into the kitchen on leaden limbs and looks at Hester, who hasn’t moved from the spot. Her eyes are round and her small mouth is slightly open.

She feels an overwhelming urge to laugh and wraps her arms around herself, trying to control new shakes that have begun to rip through her. She’s so cold.

‘My word,’ says Hester, holding a hand to her chest. ‘That was a bit close.’

She slides into one of the chairs at the kitchen island.

‘Look, I’ve had a thought.’ Hester is businesslike again. ‘About what we can do about … this.’ She pauses and they both look at Jamie’s body. ‘The important thing is to get it out of your kitchen so you can get on with your life. What’s done is done and there is no use whatsoever in making this situation worse than it needs to be. Agreed?’

Melissa nods uncertainly and hugs herself, chafing her goose-pimpled arms.

‘There’s a place in Dorset, where Terry used to go fishing,’ says Hester. ‘It was by a stately home. I forget the name, but anyway, there was an old well there. A really deep one, apparently. It was near where they used to park their van. Terry once remarked that you could hide anything down there and no one would know.’

She taps at her bottom lip with two fingers, scrunching her brow. ‘We could take this … it … to the well, couldn’t we? Oh, what was its name?’

Melissa can only stare in amazement at this extraordinary woman; she’s taking this in her stride, with no apparent qualms about disposing of Jamie’s body. Melissa knows she should be on her knees with gratitude but instead she feels an unreasonable rush of anger towards her neighbour.

‘How do you suppose we’d find this place?’ she says. ‘And who’s to say there isn’t a gigantic housing estate there now?’

‘Well, can’t you look it up on the web or something?’ Hester is clearly stung.

‘Look what up, exactly?’ says Melissa, aware that she is raising her voice. ‘Convenient wells in Dorset where you can hide a body?’

‘There’s no need to be facetious, Melissa. I’m only trying to be helpful.’

Hester’s eyes film over with tears. Shit. She has to keep her on board. She needs her.

Melissa rubs her own face, hard, with both hands. ‘Sorry! Sorry,’ she says. ‘It’s just … I can’t think with … him … there.’

Both women regard the body that somehow seems more dominating of her attention every time Melissa looks at it. It’s almost as though it’s growing. Soon it will have expanded to fill the entire room. Stop it. That’s crazy thinking. Keep it together.

‘Terry’s van,’ says Hester decisively. ‘I’ve never driven it but I’m sure it still works. He used to take great care of that thing. We can put … it, there, while we think of somewhere to dispose of it.’

‘Right, okay, yes,’ says Melissa, getting up, hugely grateful to be acting at last. There is always the possibility that Tilly might come back early, or Mark’s filming could have been curtailed. The thought of this sets off a silent scream in her mind. This is better than no plan. And maybe they could locate the place Hester mentioned. Maybe they could really do this. Maybe it will all be okay again.

Then her eye snags on the pestle, lying on the floor, its grim smearings hidden.

‘What should I do with … that, Hester?’ she says, pointing at it and swallowing deeply.

Hester peers at the pestle and gestures at Melissa. ‘Get me a bin bag. I’ll get rid of it.’

Melissa meekly retrieves a black sack from the drawer and passes it to Hester, before going through the inner door to the double garage. Here she finds two dust sheets that had been bought in anticipation of work on the bathroom. In the end the decorators had brought their own and they hadn’t been needed. They are still in their plastic covers, which slide and crinkle in Melissa’s arms. Goose pimples scatter across her chest. She feels as though there are people watching all of this. The police are just waiting for the best moment to swoop in and arrest her. Several police cars will come screeching to a stop outside. Black-clad men will descend from the ceiling on ropes.

She wants to laugh again. Melissa clamps her jaw shut to stop her teeth from slamming together and goes back into the kitchen.

‘I found these, I think they’ll—’ But she stops speaking abruptly.

Hester has gone.

Dropping the bulky contents of her arms with a ragged gasp, she runs to the hallway. Melissa pictures her on a witness stand, giving evidence against her. ‘Oh yes, she was quite ready to dispose of the body. I went along with it because I was frightened she might hurt me too.’ She can even see the suit Hester would wear, with some sort of Thatcher blouse underneath.

Melissa lets out a deep animal moan. Hester has lost her nerve.

The doorbell shrieks into her consciousness and her whole body jerks at the shock. The police, then?

Walking on shaky, newborn-Bambi legs to the front door, she can make out one shape. A smallish female shape with helmet hair.

She flings the door open.

‘Oh Hester, thank Christ. Where did you go?’

Hester glances up at her as she steps inside, carrying what looks like a Marks and Spencer cool bag. It is a Marks and Spencer cool bag.