The Guilty Couple(62)

To my satisfaction she bristles but she doesn’t strike out at me, she’s cleverer than that. She wouldn’t do anything out here in front of witnesses and dash cams and CCTV trained on the street. If Dani retaliates she’ll do it on the sly but she’ll have to be quick because once I get inside Smithy’s flat I’ll have the evidence to send her away for a very long time. And then she’ll have to watch her back for a completely different reason.

A low groan from behind the door makes me spin round.

‘Smithy?’ I call through the gap. ‘Smithy is that you?’

There’s another groan and this time I pinpoint the sound. I wasn’t pushing against ‘something’ when I tried to get in, I was pushing against someone. That groan came from the ground. ‘Are you hurt? Can you get up?’

There’s a pause then a reply so faint I can barely hear it. ‘It’s gone.’

All the bravado I was feeling a few seconds ago evaporates. I don’t have to ask what she means.

‘Smithy, can you move away from the door?’

There’s no reply. Even the groaning has stopped.

‘Smithy!’ The roar of traffic behind me is silenced by the rush of blood to my head.

‘What have you done to her?’ I spit the words into Dani’s face. ‘What the fuck have you done?’

She shakes her head lightly, a frown forming between her eyebrows. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She’s lying. She stole the evidence and hurt Smithy and she’s going to get away with it, just like she got away with framing me five years ago.

‘What did you do to her?’ The cold, dismissive look she gives me lifts the lid on my rage and I shove her, hard, in the chest. She stumbles backwards and I feel a rush of pleasure. How does it feel to be attacked when you least expect it, Dani? How does it feel to have no control over your fate? I push her again, before she can recover, and she takes another couple of steps back towards the road. She’s only inches from the kerb now. There’s a truck, about fifty feet to our right, travelling faster than it should on this stretch of road. I grab her jacket by the lapels. One more push and she’d be sprawled in its path.

She deserves this. She stole five years of my life. Of my daughter’s life. She’s stolen the evidence that proves I’m innocent and she’s beaten up one of the few people in this world that I trust. Why should I play by the rules when she didn’t? Why should I be a good person when everyone thinks that I’m not?

‘You betrayed me, Dani.’

The truck rumbles closer – forty metres, thirty. Dani wrestles to get free, grabbing at my fingers then throwing her fists at my face. She lands a punch in my guts and one on the side of my head. Her knuckles connect with my cheekbone but I barely feel it. I’m not aware of anything other than the truck, drawing closer and closer with each ragged breath I take. Dani turns her head, following my line of sight, and the colour drains from her face.

‘Don’t do it!’ she screams. ‘Olivia, stop. I did it for my sister. She’s ill. It saved her life.’

‘And you stole mine!’

She’s lying. She didn’t frame me to help someone. She framed me because she’s greedy and she’s corrupt and she’s—

The thought is knocked from my head as Dani’s fist connects with my throat and a tsunami of pain crashes through my body. I press a hand to my neck as a strange, rasping sound creeps from my mouth. I drop to my knees, sucking in air in short, guttural gasps, only vaguely aware of the pedestrians who have stopped in their tracks either side of me, staring, their mouths agape.

‘Police! Nothing to see here.’ Dani’s shout booms out from somewhere to my right and the gawkers and the rubberneckers begrudgingly disperse. I am vaguely aware of a phone ringing as I struggle to my feet, one hand pressed to my throat.

‘Smithy …’ I croak as I feel around in my pocket for my phone. I need to ring an ambulance.

But Dani’s not listening. Her mobile is pressed to her ear and she’s staring straight through me as though I’m a ghost.

It takes the firemen less than fifteen minutes to remove the door to Smithy’s flat. The moment they step away the ambulance crew rush in and I catch a glimpse of her – lying crumpled on the ground at the foot of the stairs. Her skin is ashen and the hair on her crown is dark with blood. I rush forward but I’m intercepted before I can reach her.

‘Miss,’ a ruddy-cheeked uniformed policeman steps in front of me. ‘Let the paramedics do their job.’

‘But I know her. She’s my friend.’

‘What’s her name?’ He takes out a notebook and pen.

‘Smith … Kelly Smith.’

Dani was long gone by the time the emergency services turned up. As I dialled 999 she sprinted in the direction of the tube station with her phone pressed to her ear. When the older of the two paramedics asked me what had happened I was shaking so violently I couldn’t speak. What had I become? I’d almost thrown Dani into the road. If she reported me, I’d be arrested. I’d go back to prison. I’d lose everything, again.

I watch, helplessly, as the paramedics load Smithy onto a stretcher, her skin pallid beneath the oxygen mask, her eyes closed. She’s alive, but I’ve never seen her so still.