He backed out slowly, opening the door to his right; a closet filled with boxes and household cleaning materials, a pack of yellow J-cloths, a mop and bucket and a heavy-looking yard brush.
He closed the cupboard door gently, satisfied that no one was down here, then slowly went upstairs.
As he reached the top, Oliver found the bedroom to the left.
He listened outside, pushing his head closer to the bedroom door, again waiting, trying to be patient, understanding the need to rush, but he had to be careful, prioritise, make sure it was safe.
He placed his elbow on the large door handle, pushing it downwards, and the door budged slightly.
Oliver peered through the gap, gazing inside. A figure was lying on the bed, dressed in jeans and a shirt. The guy looked out of it, possibly drunk, or unconscious, maybe both.
Oliver stood by the bed, listening for any movement. He watched the chest moving slowly; light breaths in and out.
As Oliver stood motionless, fighting with the dread and panic that had suddenly taken over, he pulled the envelope from his jacket, removed the autoinjector and jabbed it into the guy’s arm.
Oliver watched as the large figure suddenly jolted, his body beginning to spasm, kicking out, and a few seconds later he went completely limp. Oliver stood over him for another few minutes until mucous spilt from the guy’s mouth, foam covering his lips. Then Oliver turned and left apartment six.
10
Twenty years ago - Before the phone call
Meagan stood outside her mum’s bedroom, her ear placed against the door.
She was listening to her father, shouting, calling her mother a lazy bitch.
Of all the words she’d heard, that was the one her father used the most. She knew it was a cruel word. She saw it on her mother’s face so many times; the embarrassed look whenever her husband had said it to her while Meagan was present.
Meagan hated that word, it rhymed with other horrible words; that’s how Meagan worked out if a word was good or not. Bitch rhymed with itch. Something Meagan hated. Her friend Molly had a cat that was riddled with fleas, and Meagan had heard Molly’s mother mention it, hence that was why Meagan had stopped visiting the house. She couldn’t stand the bites.
Bitch also rhymed with titch. Jimmy Mertock, the school creep who persistently tried to kiss Meagan, had called her that word many times. It also rhymed with snitch, another word Jimmy called the girls when they told the teacher on him.
Meagan listened, her mouth open with shock. Her father was moving around the bed. ‘You’re a lazy bitch, good for nothing. I do everything for you, do you hear me? Without me, you’d be worthless. You understand what I’m saying?’
‘Sean, please,’ her mother begged.
Meagan heard a loud slap. She knew it was her father’s hand across her mother’s face.
Tricia was crying, then another slap. Meagan was shaking as she pulled the handle of the door and entered the room.
‘I can’t do this anymore, I can’t. I don’t want to live.’ Her mother was sobbing, hugging a soft pillow, shaking desperately.
The words rang out. Meagan stood in shock as her father again lifted his hand and slapped his wife. He spun round, a look of shock on his face, then hurried past his daughter and across the landing to his room.
Meagan moved towards her mother, eyeing the bandage that was tightly wrapped around her hand. ‘Are you okay, Mummy?’
Her mother attempted to sit up, wincing in pain. ‘I’m all right, sweetheart. What have you been doing?’
Meagan dismissed the question. She looked towards her mother’s dresser. ‘Shall I comb your hair?’
Tricia smiled. ‘That would be nice.’
As Meagan reached for the brush, she quizzed her mother. ‘Why do you want to die, Mummy?’
‘Oh, baby, I don’t want to die. Don’t ever think that. How could I leave you?’
‘Does Daddy make you want to die?’
Tricia waited, attempting to speak, unsure how to answer, then changed the subject. ‘Come up onto the bed and sort my hair out. Have you seen Sarah today?’
‘I’ve been watching telly. I think I’ll go see her later. She has a guinea pig, you know.’
‘A guinea pig, huh. Well, you’ll have to go and see.’
As Meagan combed her mother’s hair, Tricia fought back the tears, struggling to stem the lump in her throat. She thought how difficult it must be for her daughter, having to witness the cruelty inflicted on her. She knew how a child’s life is mapped out from early memories and how so often her daughter observed Sean’s behaviour.
As Meagan gently ran the brush through her mother’s hair, she told her about school, who her close friends were, the kids she disliked, the teachers that always seemed cross and how Jimmy Mertock always tried to kiss her.
Tricia laughed as Meagan scrunched her face when she said his name. ‘I think that maybe you like Jimmy Mertock?’
‘Yuk. I do not. He’s creepy, that’s what Sarah says.’
‘Well, Sarah is wrong to say that about Jimmy. He’s just struggling to contain his emotions. Now, what do you say we go downstairs and eat?’
‘But I haven’t finished making you look beautiful, Mummy.’
‘Meagan, it will take a lot more than combing my hair to make me look beautiful. Come on.’
Tricia edged her way to the kitchen, and proceeded to make poached eggs on toast. Suddenly she heard Sean stomp down the stairs, shouting from the hallway. ‘I’ll be home this evening.’
He shut the front door, and Tricia listened to the car pulling off the drive, breathing a sigh of relief, finally able to relax.
After they had eaten Tricia asked Meagan to clear her plate and wash up. ‘You can visit Sarah and see her guinea pig.’
Meagan sighed. ‘Can’t Daddy do the washing-up?’
‘No arguments, Meagan, come on. I’ll have a quick freshen up, and I want it done by the time I come down.’
‘Fine.’ Meagan moved her plate to the sink. ‘I hate Daddy.’
‘Meagan, please. We’ve been through this.’
Twenty minutes later, Meagan was holding Arthur the rabbit in her hands, while she and Sarah chased the guinea pig around the garden.
The adults were inside, drinking coffee.
‘I want a pet. My daddy always says no. My daddy hit mummy this morning.’
Sarah looked up. ‘Why does your mummy allow him to hit her?’
‘I don’t know. I think he hates her. He called her a horrible word too.’
‘My daddy loves us,’ replied Sarah.
Meagan thought about what Sarah had just said. ‘Well, Daddy loves me. Just not Mummy.’
‘He can’t love you if he hits your mummy.’
‘He does love me. Don’t say things like that, Sarah.’
‘He hates your mummy, and he hates you too.’
‘He does not hate me.’
‘Yes, he does. My dad says he’s a pig, just like Arthur.’
‘Arthur’s a guinea pig; they’re tinier. And you copied me. My toy rabbit is called Arthur. I thought of the name first.’ Meagan moved away from her friend and went inside. She didn’t like how Sarah teased her. Usually, they got along well, but Sarah seemed to enjoy goading Meagan about her dad, which always upset her.
Tricia and Meagan spent another couple of hours with the Tunneys.
Suddenly Tricia’s face turned scarlet. Mr Tunney spoke, but Tricia couldn’t register the words. As she looked through the living room window across the road to her house, she watched Sean’s car pull up on the drive.