I had to force myself to break away. I wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him in one long embrace, but it wasn’t the right time or place.
I planted one final kiss on his lips. ‘I’m glad you’re staying.’
He squeezed my hand. ‘Me too. I’ll be right here. Sleep tight.’
I climbed the stairs. Sleep tight. What chance did I have of sleeping tight tonight after all the revelations about Karen?’ Sleep tight (fists with white knuckles)? Sleep tight (body screwed up into a ball)?
I passed her room; the thin slice of light under the door bled onto the landing. Was I right to be concerned for Mel? Was she in danger? Had Karen been wrongly convicted, or was she bluffing about her anticipated pardon?
Before I clambered into bed, I propped a wooden chair under the door handle so no one could get in. Then I reached into the drawer for the little bottle of tablets. I knew I shouldn’t have any more, but I couldn’t bear to spend the darkest hours of the night ahead in a frenzied panic.
I quickly swallowed one with a sip of water and drew the covers over me. Just one more night. Stuart was with me now – he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. We were leaving tomorrow and as long as Charlie stayed hidden at the bottom of the lake, this would all be over.
Chapter 41
Snow had claimed the ground again overnight. Furthermore, the dazzling sunshine had sucked away all the grey. It was a perfect scene, like the inside of a Christmas snow-globe, crystals twinkling on the window ledge as they caught the light.
It took my breath away and brought a fresh perspective. Stuart and I were leaving today.
In a hurry, I bundled up my pyjamas and squashed them into my suitcase, slipping into the same jeans and thick sweater from yesterday. I couldn’t find my bathrobe, it was probably still at the bottom of my backpack.
I hadn’t bothered to unpack my gear since returning yesterday, not even my clunky alarm clock – that was still nestling inside my case. No matter what we discovered, I didn’t want to hang around any longer than we had to. Stuart and I were going to make a swift getaway – as soon as we could.
I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. Then scuttled down to the kitchen to make strong ‘wake-up’ cups of coffee for Stuart and me.
Our three housemates were already up and about. Karen was pouring orange juice into a glass, Mark was finishing off a cigarette – one foot outside the back door – and Jodie was taking the manic curls out of her hair with straightening irons. The atmosphere was that of a dentists’ waiting room with the aura of past pain, current pain and the anticipation of further pain filling every molecule of air. It was ripe for a showdown.
I went through the connecting door into the sitting room. Stuart’s bedding was folded up neatly on the arm of the sofa.
‘Where is he?’ I asked.
‘Stuart, you mean?’ said Karen. ‘He left early. He said he had something important to do and he’d call you.’
No – how could he? He wasn’t supposed to disappear. He said he wasn’t going to leave me. I needed him now more than ever. Then another thought crept in and my stomach clenched – maybe he’d got news about Charlie.
Karen put four pieces of fresh toast on the kitchen table and scooped up a jar of marmalade from behind the butter. It made a plunk sound as she opened it.
Everything looked so frigidly normal. I took a seat and dared to glance at her face. It came to me then that she must have had a hellish time in prison. Karen couldn’t cope with rules and routine; she broke them like a lumberjack snaps branches. She was a leader, not a follower; I couldn’t envisage her in a queue waiting to use the payphone, or the shower, or trouping in a line carrying a plastic tray, with individual compartments for her meat and two veg, to a Formica table.
Karen was renowned for going further than anyone else, pushing the limits. Surely, that attitude didn’t go down too well with the prison wardens. She’d have had a return quip for every barbed comment that came her way – I bet that had cost her dearly inside, with the authorities as well as the other inmates.
Holloway – ha, so close to the sound of ‘Hollywood’ – Karen’s little ironic twist.
I helped myself to cereal, then sat back; I wasn’t hungry. Karen started clearing the table.
‘What you doing today, Sugarlump?’ said Mark, blowing out his last lungful of smoke and rubbing his hands together.
‘A walk, some photos, lunch at the pub – not sure…’ I didn’t want to tell them I was leaving until I’d spoken to Karen.
‘Don’t you wish you weren’t so predictable?’ he said.