They were in the barn and they’d just had dinner. She walked towards him and slipped off her dress to reveal her naked body. Her nipples glistened in the candlelight as she bent over on the sofa with her legs apart, begging him to take her. He kissed the small of her back as he slapped her buttocks. He couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be in her. As he thrusted back and forth, his desire heightened. Almost there.
* * *
‘Come on, you do it, just do it, mister,’ the woman said as she stroked him vigorously.
‘What? What the— Stop! Stupid whore – get off me!’ He shouted as he pulled away and gasped for air. ‘I’m so sorry, Debbie, so sorry.’ He stumbled out of the car and zipped his trousers up, taking the keys with him.
‘Prick!’ she shouted.
He’d betrayed Debbie, the only woman he’d ever loved. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ he said as he paced the riverbank and slapped himself across the head. What if Debbie were to ever find out what a dirty man he’d been?
The sound of the River Avon gushing through the weir brought him back to the situation in hand. He realised he was shivering to the point his muscles were in pain. Cold, it was so cold.
The woman staggered over to him and lit a cigarette. ‘You want puff to calm the hell down? Then you take me back and don’t forget my other hundred. I think I bloody well earned it with you.’
He shook his head. Was she mocking him and his inability to respond to her charms? He detected a grin on her face. Was the grin aimed at him? They walked until they reached the lock. He stared into the calmness of the water, then his gaze darted across to the violent gushing of the weir next to it.
He shook his head again. ‘What have I done? What the hell have I done?’ He continued pacing. A curl of the woman’s cigarette smoke filled his nostrils. Along with his churning stomach, it made him want to spew. He watched as she walked over the lock’s bridge, staring at the water below. He couldn’t let her tell anyone. If Debbie ever found out… He shuddered. It wasn’t going to happen. She turned as he reached her.
‘By time you take me back, will be two hours.’ She dropped her cigarette into the water and started walking back down, almost tripping over the stones on the pathway. As she turned, he gripped her arms. ‘Please let go of me,’ she said, her eyes glassy. When he didn’t, she began to struggle. ‘Let me go!’ she yelled as she tried to grab his face and poke at his eyes.
He forced her back towards the bridge, and then with what seemed like no effort at all, he pushed her slight frame into the ice-cold water below. He listened as her body cracked the thin layer of ice coating the top of the water. With a head first, fifteen-foot drop into freezing cold water, she wouldn’t stand a chance. He watched as she gasped for air, her voice echoing in the lock, ‘I can’t swim! Help!’ She gagged on a mouth full of water. He stared down and caught her distorted features as the moonlight lit up one side of her pained face. His heart was beating so fast he was sure he’d have a heart attack – then the splashing finally stopped. Ten minutes he waited. There had been no noise, no more thrashing and no shouting.
‘I’m so sorry, Debbie. I love you and I’m so, so, sorry I betrayed you’. He frantically searched around, making sure he was alone, and hurried back to the car. The passenger door was still open. He leaned in to tidy the seat belt, which had snagged around the chair, and noticed a driver’s licence in the footwell. She was Romanian. Nicoleta Iliescu was only twenty-four years old. He stroked the outline of her photo on the small card. He was right: she wasn’t Debbie. What had he been thinking? He took a duster from the glovebox and began wiping down the passenger seat. Her perfume still hung in the air, making him gag. Although he could barely feel his fingers, he knew he’d have to leave the window open while driving home to get rid of the stench.
He walked down to the riverbank and went to throw the card, then hesitated. He’d touched it. Would his fingerprints stay on it if it were immersed in water? He rubbed it against his trousers and held it with the tip of his fingers. Placing it in his pocket, he decided that disposing of it now was too risky. If the body were found, they might also find the card, then they’d know who she was. Maybe she’d remain in the river until she was unidentifiable, but he wasn’t going to leave any further evidence behind. Maybe if they knew who she was, they’d know her whereabouts, where she lived. Maybe they’d have him picking her up on CCTV in Redditch. He couldn’t take the risk. He’d take it with him, away from the scene.
He gazed up and down, trying to spot her body – nothing, except for a rustling in the bushes. He flinched, following the sound. Was it the breeze catching the bare branches? Was it just an animal? Foxes and badgers were common around these parts. The bushes opposite him rustled once more. His heart hammered against his ribcage. Had someone seen him?
‘Who’s there?’ he asked in a quivery voice as tears streamed down his face. He gasped until he almost passed out. Who’d seen him?
A fox darted from the trees and ran off into the distance. An owl hooted, making him flinch. He ran as fast as he could, back to the car, almost slipping on an icy puddle. Mother would be awake soon. She’d need her breakfast and the bread was in the car. He was going home, then he was going to watch Debbie – just another normal day.
One
Friday, 1 December 2017
Albert belched as he supped the last of his ale and placed his cap on his head. Another would’ve been grand but he knew his pension wouldn’t stretch that far. His mouth watered as he thought of the homemade steak and kidney pudding his neighbours Mark and Jean had promised to make him for supper. He gripped the table and hauled himself up, flinching as he straightened out. It wasn’t easy being old. Once the ageing bones had set in the same position for more than a few minutes, they rebelled at being moved.
Partygoers drank, yelled, and played darts and pool. They danced as another pop anthem started on the jukebox. It was the run up to Christmas and he loved every minute of it. As he straightened his tie and buttoned his overcoat, he gazed through the leaded window, into the darkness. In a moment, he’d be out there getting drenched, leaving the warmth of the roaring fire behind. Grabbing his stick off the back of the chair, he shuffled through the crowd, thanking anyone who moved as he neared the door.
‘Bye, old Albert,’ shouted Jeff, one of the bar staff, as he pulled a pint for a man in a light-up Christmas jumper
‘Less of the “old”,’ Albert replied with a smile, winking. He watched as Jeff wiped his forehead on his sleeve before continuing to serve the revellers. He pushed the door open and gasped for breath as a gust of wind hit him face on. Water soaked his shoes as he waded through the puddle that had gathered at the doorstep. He knew his shoes were cheap, but they were all he could afford and they looked smart. A real man needed a collar and a shiny pair of shoes. He was amazed at how many youngsters would go out in tracksuit bottoms and T-shirts. That attire was for exercising in, not for making an impression. He smiled as he remembered the night he first cast his eyes on his Lillian.