When You Are Mine(109)

‘I’ve been rather busy.’

‘Did you get my messages?’

‘I’ve blocked you,’ I say, which is a lie because I don’t know how.

‘Why?’

I try to laugh, but it sounds strangled. ‘I’m not allowed to talk to witnesses.’

‘I didn’t release those photographs,’ she says. ‘It must have been the police.’

‘You took them. You spiked my drink. You took off my clothes. You photographed me naked.’

‘It wasn’t like that. You’re making it sound—’

‘Creepy?’

‘I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I wanted to draw you. You look so beautiful when … when you’re—’

‘Unconscious? Comatose?’

She falls silent and moves further into the studio. ‘Do you want a sparring partner?’

‘No.’

‘You always say it’s better to train with someone.’

‘You don’t want to spar with me, Tempe, I mean that.’

Ignoring my warning, she disappears into the locker rooms and I wonder whether she’s simple-minded, or deliberately trying to goad me. She’s either the most sanguine, or most stupid person I’ve ever met. A few minutes later, she’s back in the studio, dressed as I am, with a different coloured belt.

‘I don’t want to spar with you,’ I say.

‘Oh, come on, we’re here now.’

She bows and says, ‘Shomen ni rei!’ acknowledging the history of karate and the long line of instructors who have carried on the martial art until now. She bows again, this time to me, saying ‘Sensei ni rei!’ before thrusting her fists down and dropping into kiba-dachi, ready to defend.

I dance forward and she dances back. I feint with left and right, before spinning a kick at her head, which she blocks. I trained Tempe well, but she’s not a black belt. She has a longer reach than I do, which means not letting her get too close; or attacking her without a strategy. She will not come to me. She will wait and defend.

Moving smoothly, I barely seem to shift weight onto my left foot when I spin with my right, slamming a kick into her torso. She collapses to the mat, winded. I wait for her to stand.

‘That was quick,’ she says. ‘Maybe we should use the pads.’

‘No, you’ll be fine,’ I reply. ‘I barely touched you.’

She gets reluctantly to her feet and readies herself. We begin again. This time she’s waiting for the same move, but I use the opposite leg. And although I’m looking at her torso, I aim the kick at her head. She lets out a cry and holds her hand across her bloody bottom lip.

‘Why are you being so mean?’

I am standing over her. ‘You put a tracking app on my phone. You followed me. You invaded my home. You lied to me about everything. Your past. Your family. Your job. The wedding …’

‘What about the wedding?’

‘The venue cancelled. I won’t be getting married.’

‘Why?’

‘It could be because you told them I was someone important. Or that my photograph is all over the internet, lying naked in your bed. Or it could be that I’ve been charged with murdering a detective, who I met because I was trying to protect you.’

‘You couldn’t have killed him. You were with me.’

‘Exactly. You’re my alibi.’

‘I’m your friend.’

‘No! We’re not friends.’

Tempe is still sitting on the mat. She touches her finger to her bottom lip and examines the blood, wiping it between her thumb and forefinger like it’s a drop of oil.

‘Did you kill Blaine?’ I ask.

‘Who?’

‘Mrs Ainsley’s dog.’

Tempe shakes her head, adamantly. ‘I wanted to lose him, that’s all – teach him a lesson for barking – but the little bastard latched onto my hand. I had hit to him with a brick to make him let go.’

‘You’re a monster.’

‘It was an accident, I swear.’ She pushes herself upright. ‘I think I’ve had enough.’

‘No. Come at me. Give it your best shot.’

‘You’re too angry.’

‘Oh, you haven’t seen me angry.’

Half-heartedly, she drops into her kiba-dachi and begins circling around me. Occasionally, she lunges forward as though launching a punch or a kick but skips away again, too scared to fail.

‘Did you leave the flat that night?’ I ask.

‘No.’

‘Did you kill Darren Goodall?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I was frightened of him.’

‘What did you tell the police?’

‘I told them we were together. I signed a statement.’

‘Nobody believes you. Including me.’

Angry and over-confident, I launch a punch at her chest. Tempe parries, sidesteps, and parries a second punch, before ducking and spinning. Her kick connects, which surprises me. I’m off balance, trying to recover, but she grapples and we’re scrabbling on the ground. She has the better position, sitting behind me. Her legs are hooked around my waist. Her right arm snakes around my throat and grabs her left bicep in a classic chokehold.