He had already been waiting for nearly an hour, constantly sweating and jumping out of his skin at the slightest sound. He could have sworn there was someone there watching, waiting to catch him red-handed, stood over the dead body of his ex-boss with a bloody knife in his hand. He would often stick his head up from behind the car where he was hiding, but nobody was there to be seen.
He’d cursed himself for bringing no form of camouflage, knowing that if anyone saw him that he would almost certainly be recognised. Fortunately, the rumour was that the car park security cameras were not working after an electrical glitch and hadn’t been repaired, something to do with certain companies claiming that it was not in their rental contract to contribute to the uphold of the CCTV system, as this was not general upkeep of the building. Some had paid, some hadn’t; but as it stood, it was believed that the firm managing the building were not willing to pay the remaining cost themselves. If this was true, this was good news for anyone planning to commit a crime in the area.
Finally, Ben heard footsteps, then a voice on a phone.
‘Yeah,’ said the voice. ‘Listen, I’ll be there soon. Yeah, I’m gonna cut out, I’m in the… shit.’
Ben heard the ‘BEEP’ of Charlie unlocking his car with the remote device then peeped over the car and saw him with his back to Ben and approaching his vehicle.
Adrenaline pumping, Ben stood and marched over to his chosen victim. Charlie heard the heavy footsteps behind him, and turned to see the man he had fired the day before.
Ben stopped on the spot, sweat running into his eyes. He had run the sequence of events through his mind a hundred times in the last hour. Wait for Charlie, approach from behind, attack then leave. What he hadn’t envisioned was Charlie to ever face him, to make eye contact, to ever know that Ben was there.
‘What the fuck are you doing ‘ere?’ said Charlie, eyeing Ben up and down and shaking his head disapprovingly, ‘look at the fucking state of you! Jesus, Ben, you wanna get some fucking help. Go on, fuck off.’
And with that, Charlie opened his car door, sat in the driver’s seat and closed the door behind him, watching in the mirror as Ben spun on the spot and speedily walked off towards the car exit.
Charlie put the key in the ignition, awkwardly pulled his phone from his pocket and tossed it onto the passenger seat before checking his hair in the rear-view mirror. He was interrupted by a tap on the window.
‘What now?’ he muttered, under his breath.
Charlie half turned the key, held his finger on a button and lowered the window.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked.
Those were his last words.
A knife had already been plunged in and out of his neck three times before he had even realised what was going on. He tried to get to the passenger side of the car, out of harm’s way, but his attacker was almost in through the window, frantically sticking the knife into random parts of Charlie’s face, neck and body.
Charlie had started throwing his arms towards the figure in the window and maybe connected once or twice, but it wasn’t enough. There was blood-loss, shock, fear and then death. Charlie lay slumped across the two seats. No more cockiness, no more arrogance, no more cruel words. Charlie was no more.
Ben stood a block away from his old workplace, bum against a wall, leaning forward and trying to control his breathing. He threw up.
He couldn’t remember getting to where he was. He couldn’t remember anything really. He checked his pocket and found the knife that he had taken from his mother’s house. He remembered that now. Then he remembered waiting in the car park, then approaching Charlie but Charlie turning around telling him to go. Then he remembered the feelings of weakness, and hopelessness, and walking away then running out of the car park.
Was that how it happened?
He threw up again and wiped his mouth. When he looked at his hands, he noticed the trembling had calmed down. The adrenaline was fading, his heart returning to a normal beat. It took a moment to regain his composure, and then he walked across the street and looked at his reflection in a shop window.
He looked ok, and the man in the mirror didn’t make an appearance. Ben didn’t know what that meant exactly, but thought it was significant.
He began walking, and ditched the knife at the first bin he came across, glad to get rid of it. He crossed a bridge, and looked below at the canal, the same canal that further upstream he had taken two innocent lives. He got to the steps that led down to the canal pathway and didn’t know why but decided to walk in the direction of his home. As if by coincidence, his phone rang and it was Natalie. He thought for a moment that maybe the unconscious decision to walk in that direction was a sign, and that now was the time to sort out that particular situation.
He answered the phone and regretted it almost instantly. Natalie didn’t waste any time in giving him some unexpected news.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
31
Eve sat at the kitchen table and finished her salad. She hadn’t got dressed since Ben had stripped her naked hours ago, and she felt great, and happy, so decided to treat herself and make the most of the situation. She planned to do some reading, maybe watch a movie, and just relax until Ben came back.
She had tried to call him before she began eating, but his phone went to answerphone. This didn’t concern her, although she had seen that he had ignored calls from his mother and his girlfriend, but she firmly believed he wouldn’t do the same to her. He can’t have heard the phone, or he was driving, or talking to his mother or was maybe even seeing his old boss trying to get his job back. She didn’t let herself think about him being with Natalie, she wasn’t so much jealous, as a little insecure. But she did well to convince herself that he wasn’t there, at the home they shared, patching up their differences.
Eve rose from the table, went to the bathroom and stood naked before the mirror, under the bright light. No make -up, no clothes, this was Eve. And today, Eve loved her life. She knew that this happiness was down to this wonderful guy she had met just hours ago. A man who had said he was not perfect, a man who has admitted that he had problems, many problems to deal with, yet a man who’d felt the same comfort in Eve’s company, as she had in his.
She walked back into the front room and opened a drawer, pulled out her diary and a pen, then laid down on her bed. She propped herself up with an elbow, leant over the book and opened it up to the next blank page. Eve began to write about Ben, about the hopes and feelings he had provoked in her, about the dirty sex they’d had, about the soft, sensual sex they’d had too. She wrote about the tears he’d shed when talking about his problems, he had asked for her opinions but not for her help, he was strong and she was sure of it.
She wrote of the advice he had given her, comparing him to her parents who no longer spoke to her due to her straying off the path, her parents who sent just enough money to keep her off the streets every week, but not strong enough or caring enough to drag her back on the right path or even knock sense into her. Ben had spoken to her straight, honestly and openly, and she hung from every word as if this special guy knew secrets that no other person knew.
Eve laughed to herself. Was she getting carried away? She knew that she probably was, but she enjoyed it, she loved it, she may even love Ben, already! What was she thinking? She laughed some more.
Eve checked her mobile phone, on the off-chance that she may have missed a call or message from her new lover. She hadn’t. She closed her diary and put it on the bedside table, grabbed the television and DVD remotes, and took her mind off things by watching one of her favourite films, a story about true and forever lasting love.