“What’s wrong?”
Jake’s voice made her jump. She wondered how long he’d been standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her.
“It’s this photo,” she said slowly, gesturing with it. “I just can’t believe – it seems impossible to believe – “
“What?” He came and took the frame from her hand.
“It just seems so hard to believe that – well – that they’re criminals.”
“We’re not criminals!” His suddenly raised voice made her flinch back. “We never murdered anyone. It was an accident, don’t you see? She just fell – “
Bella swallowed. “All right. I’m sorry.”
Jake turned away from her. He put the photograph back with a fussy little click, and straightened it so its edges were parallel with the edge of the shelf.
“She fell,” he muttered.
*
As the day lengthened, Bella could feel the tension begin to grow. She was conscious of it in her own clenched jaw, suddenly realising that for the last ten minutes, her teeth had been locked together. She would breath and relax and there, ten minutes later, her molars would be jammed against one another again. She could see it in the rigid set of Jake’s shoulders, the way he roamed from window to window in the front room, twitching at the curtains. She wondered what he was looking for. She could feel an ache in her own shoulders as she sat wedged into a corner of the sofa, attempting to read a week-old newspaper. At four o’clock, she opened a bottle of red wine, and they both gulped down the first glass as the light began to drain from the sky outside.
“Does it have to be dark?” she’d asked and at his grim nod, felt her nervous stomach begin to cramp and twist. She didn’t want it to be dark – but then, she asked herself, do you actually, truly think there’s going to be a body there? Her mind fluttered. She oscillated between absolute belief and desperate scepticism. Another glass of wine helped, calming the almost imperceptible trembling of her fingers.
At nine thirty, Jake stood up. Bella looked at him, standing tall by the ash-choked fireplace. They hadn’t spoken to each other in over an hour. She felt the tension in her body screw itself a notch tighter.
“Is it time?” she said, and her voice sounded rusty from disuse.
“Yeah.”
Jake looked distracted. She wondered whether he was thinking of the practicalities; of how to remove the boards of the shed floor without noise, of how to scrape away all the dirt. She felt a sudden pulse of nausea. Bella leaned back against the back of the sofa, weary already, and closed her eyes.
She opened them to find Jake standing over her and stifled a little shriek. He held a hand out to her.
“Come on, babe. It’s time.”
“No,” said Bella, involuntarily. She was suddenly very afraid, too afraid to move. I can’t go and look, she told herself, beginning to shake. I can’t.
“It’s alright,” said Jake, impatiently. He made a grabbing gesture with his outstretched hand and she flinched back, unable to help herself. Immediately, he was contrite. He sat beside her on the sofa and drew her rigid body against him, folding her into his arms.
“Oh Bella, my Bella, poor darling. Poor baby. I’m so sorry to put you through this, I’m so sorry. I’d do anything not to do it, to not make you go through this. But I can’t do it without you, darling. I can’t. Please help me.”
Bella sighed. She disentangled herself and pushed herself gently away.
“I’m here,” she said, looking down at the sofa. Her hair fell in front of her face, obscuring her vision. Jake brushed it aside and took hold of her chin, tilting her face up to his.
“You’re so wonderful,” he said softly. “You’re my saviour. Just a bit more time, my darling, and this will all be over. It’ll be fine.”
Outside, the lawn glittered with tiny beads of water. The night sky was huge, dusty with stars, ragged clouds chasing each other across the moon. Bella shivered, despite her thick winter coat. She squinted through the darkness, trying to make out the square outlines of the shed. Jake hesitated beside her. Then he strode forward, his boots leaving black prints as he walked across the beaded lawn. Bella plunged her cold hands further into her pockets and set off after him.
By the time she reached the shed, her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness. She could see outlines in shades of grey, the edges of her vision smeared with darkness, Jake’s back a blacker smudge in the gloom. Their breath streamed out in front of them in long white plumes.
“We should have brought a torch,” Bella whispered.
“I’ve got one.” Jake patted his pocket. He put one hand out to the padlock on the shed. “Lucky I took the spare key to this. Carl had the one we used to lock it, God knows what he’s done with it.”
His tone was oddly jaunty. Bella felt her stomach twist and cramp again. It was full of red wine, and little else – she’d eaten almost nothing again today. How could she, faced with the knowledge of what they were about to do?
The padlock sprang open under Jake’s groping fingers. Bella caught her breath. Jake pulled the padlock from the door and promptly dropped it. It fell with a thud onto the toe of his boot and he cursed, jumping back into Bella, who was unable to stop a little shriek of surprise from escaping her.
“Quiet!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, my toe – “
Bella felt hysterical giggles rising up in her throat and she clamped her gloved hand over her mouth, choking down the sounds that were trying to come up. Was she laughing or crying? She didn’t know anymore. She bent over, heaving, tears running from her eyes.
“Shut up,” hissed Jake.
“I can’t, I’m sorry – I can’t – “
She dug her woollen-clad fingers into her palm, the pain muted by the layer of cloth. Slowly, her laughing fit abated, leaving her gasping in the cold air. She straightened up, gingerly, wiping her wet face.
Jake was staring at her.
“What’s wrong with you?” he said, quietly. “Why are you laughing?”
His tone did more to sober her than any slap in the face. Bella felt a chill that went deeper than the frosty air surrounding her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, whispering. “I got hysterical. It’s the tension. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
All of a sudden, his shoulders relaxed. He even grinned.
“I know,” he said. “It just doesn’t seem real, does it?”
He turned away from her, back to the shed door. As he pulled gently at it, Bella was again gripped by nausea. Would there be a smell, still? Jake had told her about the smell. You can’t even describe it, he’d said. It’s like nothing you’ve ever smelt before.
The door to the shed gaped before them, a greyish outline to a blacker darkness beyond. Jake reached for the torch and the little beam came on suddenly, jittering in the night air as his hand shook. The light strobed over the interior of the shed and they both looked down at the scuffed and dirt-smeared boards of the floor.
“Christ,” whispered Bella. She was cold to the bone now, beginning to shake. Her blood felt as if it were slowly congealing in her veins but despite this, her heart began to beat faster. She could feel it, thudding away on the inside of her ribcage, beating away at her bones like a tiny, insistent fist.
“Come inside. We need to get the door shut; someone might see the light.”
Jake pulled the door fast behind Bella. She stood, clutching her elbows with numb hands. Jake propped the little torch against the wall and its faint beam showed motes of dust glittering in the snowstorm of their nervous breathing. He began to feel for the ends of the boards.