I lie there unmoving for minutes that stretch like decades, but no one comes. After a time I raise myself slowly. There he lies, in the mud and crumpled leaves, in his best suit and coat. My Mark. Near his motionless body is my rucksack. The rucksack Patrick took. I hadn’t noticed it till now. I guess Mark had it all along. I stumble toward him.
It’s a strange feeling. I’m not sure I can describe it. The love I feel for him is still there. I would do anything to go back in time, but we can’t. I approach warily, timidly. If he’s still alive he may try to kill me. Finish what he started. But as I near him, he doesn’t stir. And somehow that’s worse.
I crouch beside him, and look at him. The same handsome face, the same hair, lips, eyes. The same warm skin.
I gently touch his arm. He doesn’t respond. I become braver, lowering my head toward his. My cheek toward his mouth, the reversal of a gesture we’ve made a thousand times. But instead of being kissed by him now, I try to feel his warm breath on my cheek; I try to hear it. I bend my head to his chest, careful to avoid the hot pooling puddle of blood. I hear a gently muffled beat. He’s still here. He’s still alive.
I push his hair tenderly back, away from his forehead.
“Mark? Mark, can you hear me?” I whisper. Nothing.
I lean closer.
“Mark. Mark? It’s Erin. Can you—” and then his eyes flutter open. He gazes up at me, slow and dazed. He coughs hard and winces deeply at the pain. He’s going to die. We only have a moment.
His eyes meet mine and for an instant, like the flashing recognition of an Alzheimer’s patient, there’s my Mark. And then it fades. Another look passes like a cloud across his eyes. He looks at me in a way I’ll never forget. I see it now. How he really feels about me. It’s fleeting but irrefutable. And then he is gone.
A bird screeches deep in the forest and I flinch. I scan the trees again; there’s no one there. I stumble to my feet and stand there. Lost, broken, unmoving.
And then I grab my rucksack and I run.
At first I don’t know where I’m running to, but as I move, the plan forms. Self-preservation kicks in. I need to find a pay phone. A phone that can’t be traced. Halfway back to the road, I nearly stumble over Patrick’s body. He’s crumpled to the ground, arms outflung. His throat cut. I run on.
Eventually I reach the road, exhausted, trembling. I tidy myself up. Pull my wool hat down low over my injured forehead. Wipe Mark’s blood from my cheek and head toward the little village pay phone.
The time is 6:53. He picks up after eight rings.
“Eddie? It’s Erin. I’m on a pay phone. Er, it went wrong. Um, the, um, it went wrong.” The wobble in my voice makes my eyes fill with tears. I sound like someone on the news, like a refugee, like a bombing victim. I’m in shock, I guess. Shaky, reedy, breathless. Trying desperately to cling to some semblance of normality even after my entire life has been torn apart. I notice my hand vibrating, poised over the slot, clenching the next coin and Eddie’s crumpled phone number between trembling fingers. What the fuck just happened?
“All right, love. Slow down. It’s all right now, right? You all right? You safe?” He’s with me. His tone concerned, supportive. It’s all going to be okay now. Eddie’s here.
“Er, yes. Yes, I’m fine. My head—but it’s okay. I don’t know what to do, Eddie….” I’m finding it hard to know what to focus on. What’s important. How much to say or not say.
“About what, love? About what? The money?” He’s patient but I can tell I’m making no sense. He’s not a mind reader.
“He’s…he’s, um, and someone else. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t want to go to prison, Eddie.” And there it is. The heart of it. The reason I called him and not the police.
“It’s all right. No questions. Don’t say anything else about it. First of all, Erin, I need you to calm down, all right? Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” I think I can hear him getting out of bed, the squeak of springs. Somewhere in Pentonville two bare feet hit the floor.
“Yes. Okay. I understand. Calm.” I struggle to concentrate on my breathing, to slow it down. I start to notice the hedges along the road, the early morning hush. I hear the murmur of a yawn down the line and the clank of metal echo around his cell. I imagine Eddie sitting, hairy-chested, in the heart of Pentonville, on his smuggled-in burner phone.
“Good. Now where is he? Them? Where are you?” He’s going to sort it out. I can feel it.
“Norfolk. The woods,” I manage.
Silence. I guess that wasn’t what he was expecting.
“Right. Fair enough. And it’s just you?”
“Just me. And him. And there’s another one.” It’s clear from my tone that I am now talking about bodies. Not people.
“Two. Gunshot?”
“Yes. No, one gunshot. And the other one is, er, knife. Knife wound.” I’m aware that I’m not coming across well in this conversation. I breathe in again, exhale.
“Okay. You’re alone?”
“Yes.”
“Isolated there?”
“Very.”
“Perfect. Now, Erin, here’s what you need to do, sweetheart. You need to bury them. Do you understand? Go back and bury them. That’s going to take a while, all right?”
I can’t focus right now. I can’t think. I’m just glad of any direction. I’ll do whatever I need to do.
“Are you near any houses right now, love?”
I look around. Opposite the phone box is a church. Farther down the lane is one other building. A run-down cottage, shabby and overgrown.
“One house. Yes,” I say.
“Okay. Nip around the back and see if there’s a shovel or something. Take it with you. Now listen to me: be careful, sweetheart. You’re going to have to bury them properly. It won’t be easy but you’ll do it. And call me back once you’re done. Different phone box, remember. We’ll sort this all out, don’t you worry.” He sounds confident. It’s so unbelievably reassuring I want to cry. Right now I’d do anything for Eddie.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll call you after. Bye.” I hang up and head for the cottage garden.
* * *
—
And you know what happens next.
I’m ruddy-cheeked and covered in mud by the time I get back to the hotel, but my wound is safely hidden under my hat and my appearance is nothing that can’t be explained by some pretty hard-core hiking. I’ve got the sweat to prove it.
In my rucksack are bleach and other cleaning products that I bought from a petrol station on the long walk back from the forest. If you ever need to buy anything suspicious, it helps to buy some Super Plus Tampax at the same time. Cashiers seem to get so flustered by them they rarely pay attention to the rest of your purchases. They’ll want to get that box in a bag for you as fast as possible. Try it.