Oliver found himself missing her, wanting to be with her now, their arms around each other, planning their future, a future without Rob, without the shit he put her through day in, day out. He thought about the first time he met her at the station as he caught a glimpse of her bruised face, so troubled and disorientated. God, she was beautiful.
He needed to be strong. She was messed up and the baggage she came with would fill a jumbo jet.
It was better this way; do what he had to do, then move on. Simple.
He glanced in the rear-view mirror. He was still on his own, the road empty behind him. A couple of lorries hauling long, heavy trailers passed on the other side of the central reservation, keeping to fifty-five miles an hour. He pictured the drivers, stamping their feet in the cab to keep themselves awake, opening the window for fresh air and blasting old-school rock music.
As he turned left, heading towards the centre of London, Oliver noticed a car on his tail, hanging back slightly. The road was clear ahead, and the vehicle made no attempt to overtake. He jabbed his foot on the brake slightly, making it awkward for whoever was driving to stay behind. As Oliver slowed, so did the car behind. Go on then, go around me. What’s your problem?
The vehicle was difficult to make out in the darkness, but Oliver could see the guy’s face in the rear-view mirror. He looked young, twenty-something and was wearing headgear of some kind.
Suddenly, Oliver hit the accelerator, pushing his speed to over fifty. The car behind also increased its speed, tailgating, almost touching Oliver’s bumper. This is ridiculous. What’s with this prick? Again, Oliver hit the brakes, causing the car behind to slow. He spotted a parking bay to his left and decided to pull over. As he did, the vehicle behind moved in; flashing blue lights appearing and a siren blasting noise.
Shit. I don’t believe this.
Oliver watched the uniformed officer move along the road towards him. His first thought was to pull out, drive like the clappers and get away from here. Oliver felt nauseous, panic racing through his body. He was unable to see clearly and realised he was fighting an anxiety attack.
A tap on the window swiftly brought him back from his thoughts of the guy in the boot, the dead body.
‘Hi officer, how can I help?’
‘Do you know why I pulled you over?’
Oh yes, you saw me down at the reservoir earlier, trampling through the grass, pulling the dead body from the reservoir. It’s amazing what you find while fishing. He’s a big one, officer. Check him out; he’s in the back as we speak.
‘No, officer. I don’t think I was speeding.’
‘Can I see your driving licence, sir?’
Oliver rooted in the glove compartment, found the small folder and handed it to the officer through the passenger window. He watched as the guy looked over the document, called in the registration plate and waited for the response.
Oliver could feel his heart racing, a thumping through his eardrums. Any second now he’d pass out. Then what? Surely the body would be found. The end of the road. He would be locked up with no chance of release.
Oliver listened to the voice on the radio. The officer repeated his name and gave a brief description.
Sad little bastard who follows instructions and becomes obsessed with beautiful women, gets talked into murdering their partners and is then lumbered with the bodies.
Oliver watched the officer moving around the car, kicking tyres and looking into the back seats. Please, just go, I can’t deal with this. I can’t take it.
The officer moved to the passenger window, shining his torch into Oliver’s face. ‘Okay, looks good. You have a cracked tail light. Get it fixed. You won’t be so lucky next time.’
Oliver let out a huge sigh as the officer walked back to his car. He waited for a few seconds before pulling back onto the dual carriageway; the officer remained behind but had dropped back a hundred feet or so. After a minute, he watched the car take a left and vanish out of sight.
Twenty minutes later, Oliver opened the glove compartment, fishing for the fob to the car park barrier around the back of his apartment block. He watched the white pole rise slowly, then moved forward into his parking space. The car park was quiet, a couple of work vans, a dark-coloured jeep, a moped to his left. No one in sight.
He decided to leave the body in the boot of his car for the night. It was too risky dragging it upstairs; there was always a danger he’d be seen. He glanced over at the security camera fitted to the wall by the side entrance which pointed away and towards the far side of the grounds.
He sat in the driver’s seat, his mind racing, again thinking how he got in this shit. He’d done stupid things in his life, things he wasn’t proud of. He found himself in chaotic situations due to his lack of social skills and his unwillingness to say no.
He pictured dumping gloved-man down a toilet pan, flushing and ramming the guy’s legs harder into the bowl, pushing his shoes until he disappeared around the U-bend.
Oliver glanced across the car park, thinking maybe he could dump the body next to the wall, then run, leaving it behind and hope it didn’t come back to bite him on the arse. There’d be fingerprints, DNA; I wouldn’t have a hope of getting away.
As he slowly opened the driver’s door, he was aware of someone approaching from the right side of the car park. He could hear footsteps, high heels clicking on the concrete floor. He watched as the figure approached.
Oliver contemplated getting back inside his vehicle, locking the doors and driving out of the car park. There wasn’t enough time. He stood completely still. His legs were frozen to the ground. He was unable to command his body to move.
The woman was right beside him; he could make out her features, her long hair, tall, slim figure, oozing confidence. ‘Hello, Oliver. Fancy seeing you out here.’
‘Claire. Wow, this is a surprise.’ The blood returned to his body. He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘What are you doing here?’
Claire stood for a moment, struggling to explain why she’d turned up out of the blue, here, now. As Oliver watched her face, he suddenly remembered what he was hiding. He wondered if the body was giving off an odour which would prompt her to ask unwanted questions.
He walked away from the parked car, standing in the glow of a lamppost. The security camera was still facing towards the back.
Claire said, ‘I-I wanted to see you. Can I come up?’
Oliver glanced towards the front window of his apartment on the fourth floor, then back to the parked car. He didn’t need this. Talk about timing. ‘Yes, of course. It’s good to see you, Claire.’
They walked up the stairs to the apartment. There was little communication between them and long gaps of awkward silence.
Once inside, Oliver made coffee. He’d offered Claire something stronger, but she declined. He watched her remove her coat and hang it on the back of a chair, which she pulled closer to the breakfast bar.
Oliver struggled to control his shaking hands as he placed the two cups in front of his ex. He lifted his cup, blowing on the contents, waiting for an explanation.
Claire took a deep breath, straightening her back. ‘I’m sorry, okay. God, do you know how difficult this is? I’m an idiot. I miss you. I miss us. I had shit going on myself, and I needed space.’