“Don’t worry babe. We’ll get the bag back and that will be that. These scumbags are only out for a quick score. I hope she’s on time. Kate’s expecting me home by nine.”
I recognized that voice too. Cheating, murderous bastard. I stepped out of the shadows. “Don’t worry, Tom. When you’re not home by nine, I’ll assume you have a good excuse.”
“Kate?” Tom said.
“Kate?” Gillian repeated, looking at Tom and then at me. “You mean this fat junkie bitch is your wife?”
“Well, Tom? What do you say to that?”
“I… She… I…”
“Apparently Tom is lost for words Gillian. So, yes, I am the fat, frumpy bore married to your boyfriend. Not, however, a junkie. That was an assumption you jumped to. Understandable given the circumstances, I’ll grant you that.”
“How did you…? What are you…?”
“How did I know about your sleazy little affair, Tom? Well, let’s face it, you’re not exactly Mr Discreet. And you look so guilty when caught answering text messages that are supposedly from your mates. So I followed you one day. And, well, not to get all Hercule Poirot about it, here we are.”
Tom started towards me with his hands outstretched. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but let’s just go somewhere and talk.”
I raised the gun. “Just stop right there.”
“A gun?”
“Ooooh, well done. That’s exactly what it is.”
“She’s a fucking lunatic Tom. I told you what she was like on the phone. She…”
“Tom, tell her to shut the fuck up. This is between you and me right now.”
“Don’t you talk to me…”
“Gillian, just do as she says and shut the fuck up.”
Gillian subsided into whimpering silence. It still sounded like fingernails scraping down a blackboard, but as long as there weren’t any actual words, I could tune her out.
“So, did you go and see that divorce lawyer?”
“I… well… I…”
“No. The answer you’re groping for is ‘no’ Tom. Because you chose a slightly more dramatic way out.”
“It was Gillian’s idea.” His voice had turned from pompous to bleating and I could see him starting to sweat now.
Gillian’s eyes opened wide. “You were all for it.”
Tom ignored her. “It was easier for her because of the money. She would lose out on a fortune if she divorced Stewart. But I didn’t want anything to do with it.” A wavering smile appeared briefly as he tried to look sincere and honest. He looked about as sincere and honest as a politician caught with his trousers down in a brothel.
“You said it would be the best way. You lying bastard!”
We both ignored her. “I was caught up in it all, Kate. I wouldn’t have hurt you. You’ve got to believe me.”
This time it was my turn. “You lying bastard.”
“Honest, Kate… I…”
“Tom, you wouldn’t recognize honesty if it gave you a hug and called you mother.” I could feel tears pricking behind my eyes. “Get your clothes off, both of you.”
“What?”
“Clothes off.” I gestured with the gun. “Now. And fold them up neatly in a pile.”
“Look, okay, you want to humiliate us, I understand.” Tom hopped on one leg as he struggled to remove his jeans.
“Nah. I don’t want to humiliate you. Now, lie down on the grass.”
“I’m not doing-”
“Gillian, just shut it and do what I say. Lie down on the grass and put your arms around each other. Tom, you’re looking decidedly unaroused. I’ve never seen it quite so shriveled and tiny. What’s wrong? Lost your desire?” It was a cheap shot, but I couldn’t resist.
They were on the ground, naked and shivering.
“Look Kate, this is just ridiculous. Let’s go and talk somewhere like civilized…”
The shots were louder than I’d expected. And there was more blood. I pulled Tom’s wallet out of his jeans and picked up Gillian’s handbag. I would throw them in the Clyde on my way home, along with the gun. I wiped my prints off Gillian’s phone and left it under the pile of clothes. If the police didn’t think this was a mugging gone badly wrong, then maybe the text messages would lead them in Billy’s direction. As far as he knew, Gillian had bought the gun. There was nothing to lead the police to me, and plenty to lead them away.
As I made my way out of the Necropolis and back to my car, it struck me that Gillian’s handbag was another Prada. If nothing else, I’d saved Tom a small fortune in accessories.
EPIPHANY by Margaret Murphy
You’ve got to hold my hand!” Trina’s got her cross face on, because we’re late and it’s my fault, ‘cos I didn’t get ready fast enough. Her eyebrows are all bunched up and her eyes are squinty.
“No! You squeeze too hard!” I hide my hand behind my back, but she’s ten and big and I’m only seven and little, so she wins.
“I don’t want you-I want my mummy!”
“Well, your mummy doesn’t want you.”
This is so horrible, I gasp. “You’re a big fat liar!”
Trina really is fat, so she gets even crosser. “Am not! Your mummy’s a wacko.”
“She is NOT.” I try to hit her, but I’ve got my school bag in the other hand and it’s too heavy, so I don’t get a good swing.
Trina gives me a big tug and starts to sing, “Loony-bin, loony-tune, she’s so mad she bays at the moon!”
“Stop it!” I shout. “It’s not true. She’s just oppressed.”
Trina laughs-it’s that loud, hard laugh-when you know it means she doesn’t think it’s funny at all. “It’s not o-ppressed, it’s depressed-muppet.” She squeezes and squeezes until I cry.
“I’m in charge. And your mummy says you’ve got to hold my hand to cross the road,” she says.
I don’t see why, ‘cos there’s Pelican lights and everyone knows you just have to wait for the green man, but no matter how hard I wriggle, I can’t make her let go. If you looked at her face you’d think she was smiling, but she isn’t, she’s showing her teeth, like Uncle Pete’s dog does when he doesn’t want you to stroke him.
A mummy comes up with her kids while we’re waiting, so I cry harder and shout, “You’re hurting my HAND!” The mummy looks at Trina, and she lets go, but only a bit, so it doesn’t hurt so much.
She smiles and pretends to be nice. “Don’t be silly. You wouldn’t want to get squished, now, would you?” Explaining like I’m a baby. She wipes my nose with her tissue, when I didn’t even need her to and it’s probably full of boogers, anyway.
She has to keep pretending, because the mummy walks behind us. They’re late, too, but the mummy is kind to her children and tells them not to worry, to just tell the teacher the car wouldn’t start. I look over my shoulder because I can’t hear them talking anymore, and she’s at the gate of the county primary, which isn’t the same as our school.
She waves bye-bye and smiles, so they don’t worry. Then she looks at me and I can tell she’s thinking if I was her little girl she would walk me to school and she wouldn’t squeeze my hand too hard.
“Come on.” Trina pulls so hard I nearly fall over and she has to squeeze my hand again or I’ll fall. “Saved your life!” she says. “Now you owe me forever.”
This makes me afraid, in case she makes me eat worms or something to pay her back, but something makes me say, “You nearly killed me, now you owe me forever.”
She lets go of my hand ‘cos we’re on the field now, and the school is at the top of the hill, up the grey path. My fingers have gone white and stiff, so I tuck my hand under my arm.
“Baby.” Trina walks fast deliberately so I have to run to keep up. My fingers are so cold. Trina walks faster and faster, and I’m afraid I’ll get left behind and I won’t know what to say to Miss Irvine. “My fingers hurt!” She pays no attention, but she’s almost catched up to a lady with a dog, and I think about how she felt guilty in front of the mummy, and I shout, “You BROKE MY FINGERS!”