‘I mean you’d think I’d make an ideal lodger, but he wouldn’t be persuaded.’ Miles jabbed his finger at the other two women in the photo. ‘What did he tell me about Jackie? Moved to Scotland, I believe. And this one with the glasses – Lorraine – she had a nervous breakdown. Ended up in the looney bin.’ He addressed Gwen. ‘You were aware of that, weren’t you?’ Gwen blinked rapidly, her moans stifled by the tape. ‘Best place for her, in my opinion. She was always rather prone to hysteria.’
Sinead’s chin tilted towards her shoulder; her eyes stared straight ahead. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking from her vacant expression.
‘Book groups. They’re not actually as much fun as you’d think. Just a sad excuse to drink wine, eat cheese and drone on about your failing marriage. Ours should have been forgotten about as soon as it disbanded. But no, Gwen decided it was a good idea to rake up the past. So here we all are.’
‘Listen to me, Ell – listen to me. Gwen has children. Where are they?’
‘Staying with Daddy for the half-term holiday. She dropped them off after school and came straight round.’
‘They’ll be worried. Please let her go. She won’t tell anyone. Will you, Gwen?’
Gwen shook her head and mumbled something emphatic.
‘No, no of course not. She’d never breathe a word.’
‘Just let Gwen go home to her boys. They need her. They need their mum.’
Miles smiled benignly at Sinead. He had anticipated this response; sentimental concern for the welfare of children being an inherent weakness common to most women. He produced his BlackBerry and read one of Gwen’s messages aloud. ‘The little horrors are with Kevin for half-term hols. Glad to have some peace and quiet at last.’ He glanced up from the device. ‘I think they’re better off with their father, don’t you?’
‘Whatever she did to upset you, she doesn’t deserve this.’
‘Sinead. For a clever girl, you really do say some idiotic things.’ Suitably chastened, Sinead looked down at the floor. ‘You don’t appreciate the effort I’ve gone to, making things easier for you. I’ve already dealt with her car. It won’t be found for a few days. We’ll be on the ferry before she’s even missed.’
‘Ferry – what?’
‘Harwich to Hook of Holland. Departing at nine tomorrow morning.’
Sinead shook her head. Miles advanced towards her. She avoided his eyes.
‘We’ve already discussed this, there’s nothing for you here. Nobody wants you around, do they? It doesn’t have to be Holland. We could go anywhere you like, within reason. A fresh start. For both of us. I obtained some cash, enough to pay for a couple of nights in a hotel until we can rent an apartment. I’d wanted to tell you about my adventures last night. Unfortunately, I had a few too many celebratory brandies, which ended up putting me in a rather reflective mood.’
Reaching over Sinead’s shoulder, Miles opened a cupboard and took out a thick, orange plastic carrier bag. ‘Anyway, I’ll give you the full story en route. Let’s just say that Willoughby Wines really ought to have installed a security camera at the back of the premises. It’s very dark out there by the bins.’ He smirked at the memory. Sinead’s expression was unreadable. ‘But first things must come first…’ He shook open the bag. ‘A bag for a life.’ He handed it to Sinead, but she didn’t react. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve lost your sense of humour?’ Again, she was unresponsive. The student paralysed by nerves. He would need to be firmer. ‘Take the bag, Sinead.’
Like an automaton, Sinead reached out and grasped the bag.
‘Trust me, this method is ideal. No mess to deal with. Seeing as you can’t even clean up vomit properly, it’s best we avoid spilling any blood.’
Gwen thrashed around in the chair, struggling to free herself. Sinead looked at the bag, then at Gwen.
‘Place the bag over the head, pull tight and hold securely. All over and done with in three to four minutes. You’ll soon learn the importance of efficiency. Always make the job quick and simple.’
‘Why d’you want me to do this?’
‘Isn’t that obvious? True friends do everything together.’
‘No. They don’t.’
‘You said yourself that we’d become the best of friends. Although, given the difference in our ages and life experience, friendship isn’t the most accurate description of our relationship.’ He paused as he gave the matter some consideration. ‘What we have is a master–apprentice arrangement. And this is your final exam.’
‘I feel sick.’ Sinead was indeed looking a bit peaky. ‘She’s done nothing wrong. She doesn’t deserve to…’
‘Joel would have been my preferred choice. But you dropped the ball on that one. Pity. Then again, count yourself lucky. An acquaintance is much easier, first time round. I never had that luxury. Uncle Neil was more of a challenge, shall we say…’
‘Stop it! Shut up!’ Sinead yelled.
Miles moved closer to Sinead. Years of experience had taught him how to handle panicky students. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear. ‘It’s your own fault that she’s here. I gave you explicit instructions to keep my phone number private. So accept responsibility for your actions and prove to me that I can trust you.’
Light danced just below his eye line. He glanced down: Sinead’s pendant was reflecting one of the kitchen spotlights. Miles clasped it between his thumb and forefinger.
‘If you won’t rise to the occasion, I shall be forced to intervene. But then, you see, our friendship – or whatever you wish to call it – would be finished. Which would be regrettable. After all, we’re two peas in a pod.’ Slowly he raised his head and fixed her with his stare. He held the look until Sinead nodded that she was ready. Miles released the pendant from his fingers and it swung back into Sinead’s clavicle.
He removed an unopened bottle of vodka from the top shelf of the cupboard. Taking an upturned juice glass from the dishwasher, he poured a shot and handed the glass to Sinead.
‘This will steady your nerves. Just the one this time though.’
‘I don’t want it.’
‘Sinead, drink it. I got it for you especially.’
He watched as she downed the vodka in one go.
‘Good. Now – let’s see what you can do.’
Sinead placed the glass on the table then slowly moved forward on her crutches. Gwen’s muffled wails intensified as Sinead approached. She stopped in front of Gwen and looked down at her. Her expression was oddly neutral. Gwen turned her face away, eyes screwed shut. Sinead supported herself on one crutch. With her other hand, she lifted the thick orange plastic bag over Gwen’s head, and gradually pulled it down over her face. A peculiar feeling passed through Miles: relief. His fears about her had been unfounded; his intuition had been correct. The apprentice was following the master’s instructions.
Stifled cries emanated from behind the tape. The bag became stuck halfway down, over Gwen’s nose. The woman’s chest was heaving up and down, and she made an animalistic whining noise from the top of her throat. Sinead moved to get a better grip on the bag, but her crutch slipped away. She wobbled, lost balance, and keeled over onto the floor. Miles sighed. And it was all going so smoothly. He watched Sinead scrabble to get back up. It was an amusing sight, but she would prove to be a liability if that leg of hers didn’t heal very soon.
Miles crossed the room and loomed over Sinead. ‘Do you require some assistance?’
Sinead tried to push herself up, but had nothing to grab hold of. ‘I can do it.’
‘Are you quite sure?’
Sinead struggled determinedly, but was unable to get upright. She fell back, arms by her sides, elbows digging into the lino. She was clearly defeated by her disability. Lifting up her chin, she made reluctant eye contact. She stretched out her free arm. Her ineptitude was disappointing.