The Other People(36)

No, Fran thought. You’ve probably spent it all on booze. She bit back the words. Instead she said: “I have something I need to do. I need someone to watch Alice, just for an hour or two.”

“And you had no one else you could ask?”

Fran didn’t reply. What was the point in lying?

Her mother shook her head, moisture welling in her bloodshot eyes.

“I know what you think of me. But don’t you think I deserved the chance to know my eldest granddaughter?”

Fran wanted to reply that she had never made the effort to know her eldest daughter. And what about her other grandchildren? Occasionally, when Alice was in bed, Fran had looked up her sisters on social media. She knew that Katie had two children now and Lou had a little girl. Fran bet her mother never saw them either. But now was not the time to start an argument.

She just said again, “I’m sorry.”

Her mother turned and walked across the kitchen. She peered through the open door into the living room where Alice still sat, clutching the bag of pebbles on her lap. Fran held her breath. She knew it was a long shot. If they had to leave, she would have to sort something else out…

Then her mother turned, smiling sadly.

“I suppose we have to make the best of things, don’t we?”

She shuffled into the living room and sat down beside Alice, who started a little.

“Do you like jigsaw puzzles, Alice? I think I still have some somewhere.”

Alice glanced quickly at Fran. Fran gave a small nod. Alice looked back at her grandmother and smiled. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

Fran felt her heart soften. She reached for her car keys.

“I won’t be long.”



* * *



—

THE SKY OUTSIDE was heavy with bloated black clouds, the breeze needle sharp. Fran turned the heater in the car up to full.

There was a garage about two miles down the main road. She drove past it and pulled into a turning about fifty yards down. Then she walked back to the garage, where she purchased a petrol can and petrol, made suitably “I’m such a stupid woman” noises to the disinterested youth behind the counter and carried it back to the car. She hoped it would be enough. Next, she drove to the out-of-town Sainsbury’s. She picked up matches and some cheap Tshirts, which she planned to rip into rags. Then she headed off again. She glanced at her watch. Almost forty minutes so far. She felt her stomach tighten.

The thought of Alice, out of sight, was grating on her. She needed to get this done. Quickly. It should take only about fifteen minutes to get to her destination. Hopefully, no more than ten minutes to do what she needed to do, and then back again. Hopefully.

She indicated left and trundled along the narrow lane. After about ten minutes she spotted the farmhouse and then the small lay-by on the right. She pulled in, opened the trunk and took out what she needed. In the distance, she heard a car. She stepped back into the embrace of the woods. A blue Fiesta sped past. The driver obviously didn’t realize there were cameras further down the road. Serve him right. With a final glance around, she turned and trudged into the undergrowth.

The overhanging branches were wet and dripped fat blobs of icy water on her head as she walked along. Occasionally, a drooping branch whipped her in the face. The petrol can felt heavier with each step.

The woods were far more overgrown than she remembered. When she was a kid, she and her friends used to ride here on their bikes. Far more than her parents ever knew. Back then, before the new housing estate, you could reach the lake from the other side. They would cycle through the fields along an old bridle path. A rough, overgrown track just wide enough for horses, or a car, in a pinch.

Mum and Dad had told her not to play here, obviously. Mum moaned that she would get all dirty. Dad told her that a child had drowned in the lake, years ago. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but the lake was certainly deep. Deep enough to submerge shopping carts…or something bigger.

But not anymore.

As she emerged into the small clearing she caught her breath. Jesus. The lake had shrunk to a puddle. You could plan and plan, but there were always things you couldn’t predict. Although, to be honest, dumping the car here had never been a plan. It had been an act of desperation.

She’d like to say she hadn’t meant to kill him. But that wasn’t true. As soon as she had held the kitchen knife in her hand, she knew what she had to do. Survival. Once, she would never have thought herself capable of such violence. But she had done a lot of things over the last three years that she had never thought herself capable of. None of us know, until pushed, what our limits truly are. How far we would go for those we love. The greatest acts of cruelty are born of the greatest love. Wasn’t that some famous quote? Or maybe she was making it up. These days, she was no longer sure.

She was sure of one thing. The man who had broken into their house that night had come to kill them, and he probably had his reasons, too. Good reasons. Reasons which he could use to justify his actions. But he had been careless, and Fran had been ready, waiting. The weird thing was, when she drove the knife into his flesh, it hadn’t felt wrong, or strange, or even that terrible. It had felt necessary. And then she had stabbed him again, and again. To be sure.

Once he was dead, practicality took over. She had loaded him into the trunk of the old car, roused Alice from her bed (thank God she hadn’t woken in the middle of it all) and told her they had to leave. They had driven south, avoiding main roads where possible, and checked into a hotel nearby. She had been forced to leave Alice alone for a couple of hours while she took care of things. A huge, huge risk. One she couldn’t bring herself to repeat. But she saw the chance to kill two birds with one stone. Dispose of the body and the damn car. She knew the perfect spot. One where neither would ever be found. Or so she thought.