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Chapter 27
Monday 1st March
I’ve been awake since 5am, sitting in bed trawling social media and the news websites, a sick feeling in my stomach, a tight knot of anxiety in my chest. It’s almost a relief when I see it, a few minutes after seven: just two lines on the South Wales Police Twitter feed, but I know straight away that this is it. This is David.
@SWPCardiff Officers are currently at the scene of a major incident at Parc Llawndy business park in Llanishen. New Road has been closed and is likely to remain closed for some hours – motorists are asked to avoid the area this morning.
I read it, read it again, then scroll frantically, looking for more information, but there’s nothing, so I phone Jess. Over the weekend she gave me brief details of the plans being put into place in Cardiff – about how some cautious warnings had been issued to men identified as potential victims – but I could tell from her demeanour that she wasn’t convinced it would work, and I couldn’t help feeling the same. I’m desperate to speak to her now, but she doesn’t pick up immediately, so I leave a message, begging her to call me back as soon as she can. It’s nearly 8.30 when she does, and by then I’m dressed and pacing up and down the kitchen, aching for Pete. I’m a little upset that he’s not here, given the date; given the fact too that he knows how horribly agitated I’ve been, even more so in the past few days than I was last weekend, on the night when I somewhat lost the plot.
When we almost kissed, I think, then push the thought from my mind.
Hewashere yesterday, and we even went out for lunch, a big Sunday roast at the pub up the road. It’s just reopened under new management after a massive refurbishment, and now has plush booth seating and a fancy revamped menu with dishes like truffle mash and mushroom risotto. It used to be a rickety wooden tables, eggs and chips, and sticky laminated menus type of place; I think I miss that, just a little.
But then, not long after we got home and were collapsed on the sofa, bellies full and the first episode of the new David Attenborough nature series playing on the TV, Megan arrived, all glowy and fresh-faced after teaching her Sunday afternoon yoga class in town. I’d known she was coming, of course – Pete had asked me if it was OK earlier in the day, and of course I couldn’t say I’d rather it was just us, given the date and how I was feeling – and I made an effort to be nice, and it was fine, I suppose. The original plan, as Pete had to be in work extra-early this morning for a 6am online meeting with some client abroad, was that she’d spend the afternoon here and then go back to hers last night. Whatactuallyhappened though was that the two of them disappeared to Pete’s room around six in the evening, whereupon I hastily left the lounge and went downstairs to watch TV in the kitchen instead. Pete’s bedroom is next door to the upstairs lounge, and the walls in these modern houses are not terribly thick and, well, you get the picture …
But when they emerged forty-five minutes later, Pete told me, a little sheepishly I felt, that he was going to spend the night at Megan’s instead.
‘But … really?’ I said.
I was sitting at the kitchen island, a glass of red wine in my hand, and I put it slowly down on the counter, feeling a surge of disappointment.
‘I thought … well, I mean, it’s fine, obviously. But I just hoped you’d be here, you know. As it’s the 1st of the month tomorrow and everything …’
I kept my voice low, aware that Megan was just outside the kitchen door in the hall, putting her coat and shoes on. Pete glanced at the door and then looked back at me, grimacing.
‘I know, I’m sorry. But she sort of begged and, well, you know. Things have been a bit tricky recently with all that talk about wanting to move in and everything, so I’m just trying to … Look, you’ll be fine. I’ll call you last thing tonight and first thing tomorrow. And you never know, the Cardiff thing might not even happen, eh?’
Except now it has of course. I knew it as soon as I read that tweet, and it’s confirmed now by Jess.
‘Sorry for the delay in getting back to you,’ she says. She sounds flustered.
‘I actually slept through my alarm. I never do that. And I’ve been trying since I got in to get a bit more detail from South Wales, but it’s literally just happened about three hours ago, so everything’s a bit crazy over there, as you can imagine. But I’ve spoken to DCI Lewis and yes, it does seem that this is a murder, and yes, the victim’s name does appear to be David. And that’s all I can tell you right now, Mary, and it goes without saying that this is for your ears only, OK? We’ll get more information later and I’ll keep you posted as far as I can. And now Steph’s just arrived and there’s a briefing so … speak later, right? And Mary, I know I keep saying this, but try not to worry. It’s going to be all right, I promise you.’
She says goodbye and hangs up, and I slump onto one of the kitchen island barstools, my legs suddenly a little shaky.
And so much for Pete promising to call me first thing, I think, and for some reason I feel like bursting into tears. Ididcry last night, in the early hours when I woke, panting, my body bathed in sweat again, my heart beating so fast I could hear theswush, swush, swushof it in my ears. I’d been having yet another nightmare, I knew that, but the detail had already gone, leaching out of my panicked brain, leaving just a sense of a dark figure, a roar of anger, a scream of terror. I don’t often feel lonely – I like to think I’m quite self-sufficient, most of the time. But last night, it suddenly all became just a little bit too much and I cried, alone in my bedroom, yearning for someone to wrap their arms around me, to kiss away my tears, to tell me that everything,everything, is going to be all right. I probably wouldn’t have believed them, of course, because I don’t believe it when Jess says it, and howcaneverything be OK after all, especially now, when poor David, whoever he is, has joined the ranks of the dead, just as the diary promised. But it would be nice, would have been nice last night in particular, to have someone to hold me, to whisper reassuring words in my ear.
And now Pete, who’s supposed to be my best friend, the only person outside the police who actually knows what’s going on, hasn’t even bloody bothered to call me …
I’m just starting to feel incensed instead of upset when my mobile rings.
‘Mary! I’m so sorry I didn’t ring earlier. Are you OK? Any news?’
It’s Pete, driving by the sound of it, and I look at the clock on the kitchen wall and wonder why he’s not at work. It’s nearly nine and he was supposed to be in before six today, wasn’t he?
‘Where are you? And yes, there’s news. It’s happened. David, in Cardiff. A few hours ago, at some business park. I don’t know anything else yet. Are you driving?’
‘Christ. Yes, yes, I’m just on my way into the office now,’ he says. There’s an edge to his voice, and I know him well enough to know that he’s unhappy about something.
‘Change of plan this morning. My early meeting was cancelled, which was nice, except now I wish it hadn’t been because I ended up having breakfast with Megan instead and we somehow managed to have the mother of all rows. She’s still on about us moving in together and … oh shit, it doesn’t matter. Will you be OK today? I’m so sorry about the Cardiff thing. And I’m going to have to go now. I’m just pulling into the car park, but we can talk about it properly later, all right? Keep smiling, Ellis.’
‘Sure. Smiling all over my face here,’ I say, but the line’s gone dead. I stare at the phone for a moment then toss it onto the counter.
OK, so a massive row with his girlfriend is an excuse of sorts, I think. But he still could have called earlier …
I sigh. I might as well head into work myself, because I really need to be around people today. I need to be somewhere busy and buzzy. I need to find out more about David, whoever is he is. Whoever hewas.And I need to get my head together and stop procrastinating.
I have a month now, just one month, four short weeks. The police only have four weeks too, to try and stop this. To track down whoever’s behind it. But if they don’t, well, at least we knowwhothe next victim is. It’s me, isn’t it?
The countdown has well and truly begun.
