It was Saturday morning and Nancy was scrolling through recipes on her mobile. A Christmas ham, Christmas vegetables, Christmas cocktails, Christmas recipes for people who were tired of Christmas.
Felix leaned close to her as he refilled her coffee mug.
‘Any ideas?’ he asked.
‘What?’
‘I see you’re looking at recipes. Has it given you any ideas?’
‘I don’t know.’ She moved her phone away so he couldn’t keep on peering at it. ‘Maybe.’
‘Months ago, I had the idea that we might go away for Christmas. Find a place on the coast. Or even go abroad. Next year, perhaps.’
‘Yes,’ said Nancy slowly. ‘Now’s probably not the right time.’
‘Anyway, there’s something to be said for having a quiet time to ourselves. We can go for a walk somewhere in London. Along the river. There’ll be nobody around. We can have a drink in a pub and then come back for a nice meal.’
Nancy imagined the Thames path on a bright cold Christmas day, walking through Greenwich or round the Isle of Dogs. Standing with a beer and packet of crisps, looking across the water. It was the sort of thing that loving couples did. As she thought about it she suddenly felt it as a beautiful memory she had been deprived of in a life she would never get to live.
‘That sounds perfect,’ she said.
Felix sat opposite her.
‘If it’s going to be a Christmas at home then there’s one thing we need. What’s that?’
Nancy’s sense of irritation returned. Why did he have to keep asking her questions? It was as if he was constantly testing her, giving her a chance to pass or fail. If he had something to say, he should just say it.
‘I don’t know. What?’
‘A Christmas tree.’
‘It’s probably too much trouble, just for us.’
‘Don’t say that, Nancy. It wouldn’t be Christmas without a tree.’ He gulped down the remains of his coffee. ‘I’m going to the market to buy some decorations and then I’ll get the tree. Want to come?’
‘I’m still feeling a bit tired,’ she said. ‘If that’s okay.’
‘It’s perfectly okay. We don’t want to rush things, do we?’
She had been a ‘we’.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We don’t.’
Felix took his jacket from the hook and put it on. He wrapped a scarf round his neck.
‘Anything you want me to get you?’
‘I can’t think of anything.’
When he had gone, she sat and stared at nothing for several minutes. In other times she would have been the one who suggested going out to the market and then maybe following it with brunch somewhere. She would have bought flowers for the flat and some interesting vegetables to do something with for dinner. She would have called friends round for an impromptu meal.
Abruptly, she stood up.
She couldn’t buy flowers, couldn’t call up friends and invite them round. But she could go outside, breathe fresh air, think things through. She pulled her jacket on.
Out on the street, she turned away from the direction that Felix would have taken towards the market. A cluster of people were standing on the pavement by the entrance. There were five of them, all about her own age. They weren’t quite a group. Nancy could see that there were two men together, a man and a woman, and a woman on her own, and they looked like they were waiting for something to happen.
Nancy tapped the lone woman on the shoulder. She had a round face and spiky dark hair.
‘Excuse me,’ she said.
‘Are you here for the viewing as well?’
Of course, Nancy thought to herself: Kira’s flat. It was being rented out again. She was surprised it at taken this long.
‘Quite a group,’ said Nancy, nodding at the other two couples.
‘I’m sure there’ll be others,’ said the woman. ‘There’s not much on the market at the moment.’
For a moment Nancy felt an awful temptation. But she told herself, no, absolutely not. She had herself to worry about now. She was planning her own escape from the house and that was difficult enough. Above all, the landlord had already caught her in the flat once. Two more people had arrived. They didn’t seem to be together. Nancy turned to go and almost collided with a young man, immaculately dressed in suit and tie. His hair was brushed back and held in a small bun. His face almost gleamed.
‘Hi, everybody,’ he said. ‘My name’s Ian and I’m here to give you the tour of this highly desirable property.’
There was a murmur of greeting from the group.
‘Isn’t the landlord coming?’ Nancy asked.
‘He couldn’t make it,’ said the man. ‘But I can answer all your questions. And anyway, this flat speaks for itself.’
Go in, said the voice. You know you want to.
‘No, I don’t want to,’ said Nancy.
The woman looked at Nancy curiously. Nancy felt embarrassed for a moment but then told herself it didn’t matter.
If you don’t, you’ll always wonder.
Ian pushed his way through and unlocked the front door with a flourish. Nancy hesitated at the back of the group and then felt as if she had fallen into a river and was being pulled along by the current, as if it was happening to her against her will. She was curious, compelled. She couldn’t stop herself.
Once the group was inside, Ian stopped before opening the flat door.
‘You’ll already know how handily placed we are for transport and for the shops,’ he said, while Nancy fumed with impatience, listening out for possible footsteps coming down the stairs. He opened the door and stood aside to let them all move past him inside.
Nancy gulped as she stood inside the flat once more. She had made the decision. But she would be as quick as possible and then she would leave.
‘How did you know?’ a voice said next to her. Nancy looked round and saw that it was the woman she had approached.
‘Know what?’
‘That he wasn’t the landlord?’
Nancy was taken back. Why did this woman even want to know?
‘I’ve met him,’ she said.
‘Is this all a fake then,’ said the woman, gesturing towards the other people. ‘Have you been promised the flat already?’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Nancy moved away as if she had suddenly seen something she needed to check out. She noticed Ian looking at her. Had he heard what she had said? He looked away again. It was probably nothing.
She took a moment and looked at the flat. It looked bare, shabby and abandoned. Only the winter sunlight making wavy patterns on the bare boards gave it a sense of possibility. There were the few items of furniture she had seen before – the pine table with a burn mark on the middle, the bench sofa and the wing-armed chair, a low stool, a fraying rug, faint square marks on the grubby walls where pictures had hung. The plug sockets were loose, the fridge was obviously rusty, the windowpanes were in bad shape. Smudgy black marks and obvious signs of damp showed that Goddard hadn’t even bothered to give the rooms a deep clean or the walls a lick of paint before renting it out again.
The two men were looking out of the window into the small garden. The other couple were in the kitchen. What would they think if they knew what had happened here?
She walked across to the spot. She felt like there should be a radioactive force where Kira had died. It should scorch her. But there was nothing, of course, except Nancy’s own feeling of shock and desolation. She looked up at the beam. Nothing. Probably there had never been any evidence that would have been useful, but everything was gone now.
She looked down and then she saw something, just a wisp, between the floorboards. She knelt down and tried to take it between her thumb and first finger. She couldn’t. The crack was too small. She thought for a moment and then took the keys from her pocket. She selected the thinnest of them and worked it into the crack between the two floorboards and worked it upwards.
She had it. She took it between her fingers.
‘What are you doing?’
She stood up and found herself facing Ian.
‘I’m checking the floorboards,’ she said.
‘Everything’s in good order.’
‘Really?’ said Nancy.
She couldn’t stop the question sounding slightly sarcastic.
Ian raised his eyebrows.
‘Don’t just take my word for it. You can ask the landlord yourself. He just texted me. He’ll be here in a minute.’
Nancy was almost impressed with her response. She thought at first that her legs would give way under the shock at the sheer disaster of what she was facing. But she didn’t. She remembered what she was holding between her fingers. With her left hand she took her wallet from her pocket and managed to flip it open. She released what her fingers were holding. She snapped the wallet shut and slid it back in her pocket.
‘Thanks,’ she said to Ian. ‘I’ll be off now.’
‘Are you interested?’
‘I’ve got lots to think about,’ she said, urgently needing to get to the exit.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ian. ‘Did I get your details?’
Nancy ignored him.
She opened the door and William Goddard was standing there, a huge form blocking her path. He was fumbling with his key, and it took a moment until he looked up and faced her, a further moment for him to look utterly confused.
‘It’s you,’ he said, and then his tone grew louder. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
The situation was such a nightmare that Nancy felt weirdly calm. She was able to think clearly. He’s confused, she thought, he’s angry. Just say something, anything, that sounds calm and normal.
‘I heard you’d be here,’ she said. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’
He looked so surprised by this that he found it difficult to speak.
‘What about?’ he asked finally.
What about? Nancy felt like a drowning swimmer desperately trying to find something to cling on to.
‘The damp in our ceiling. I keep trying to call you.’
He frowned. It wasn’t true, but Nancy knew that he was a bad landlord, and she knew that bad landlords spent their time not replying to their tenants.
‘I’ll send someone round,’ he said.
Nancy just mumbled something and inched past his bulk, out into the hall.
‘Nancy,’ said a voice, and she turned to see a large, bushy green tree moving towards her.
‘You were quick.’
Felix put the tree down and stepped from behind it.
‘What are you doing down here? Are you going out? I thought you needed a rest.’
‘I just…’
‘I gather your ceiling has damp,’ said Goddard, who was still standing in the doorway of Kira’s flat. He made it sound like an accusation.
‘What?’ Felix looked confused.
‘I’ve never noticed that,’ said a woman’s voice, and Nancy saw that Michelle was there as well, largely obscured by the tree.
‘We can discuss it later,’ said Nancy firmly and headed for their door.
‘I bumped into Michelle in the market,’ said Felix. ‘She helped choose the tree.’
‘We’ve splashed out on loads of decorations.’
Michelle held up a carrier bag filled with glinting baubles.
‘The tree’s bigger than I expected.’
‘It’s a good shape,’ added Michelle.
‘Shall we have coffee?’
Felix unlocked their door and pushed the bushy tree through. Needles scattered everywhere.
‘Lovely,’ said Michelle.
‘I might lie down,’ said Nancy.
‘Michelle’s been very helpful. Why don’t you put the kettle on?’ It sounded like an order. ‘Do we have biscuits?’
‘We have lots of mince pies,’ said Nancy. ‘I’ll warm some up.’
She went into kitchen alcove and turned on the kettle, then filled the kettle with water. She found the tin of mince pies.
‘Shall I put those on a small baking tray?’
Michelle moved towards a drawer as if she owned the place.
‘That’s—’
Nancy stopped. The used condom. She had forgotten all about it. Now, in a flash of horror, she saw herself, all those weeks ago, rummaging round in Kira’s garbage bag, and then she saw herself standing just like this with Michelle, and surreptitiously dropping it, in its plastic bag, into the deep drawer of baking utensils.
She jolted sideways and stood in front of it just as Michelle’s hand reached out.
‘It’s fine,’ she managed to say.
‘Come on, Nancy.’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Very well.’
Michelle waited.
‘When the oven’s warmed up.’
Michelle gave her a curious smile.
‘It’s okay, you know.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You don’t need to worry.’
‘What?’
Bubbles of sweat were pricking on Nancy’s forehead.
‘I threw it away,’ Michelle said.
‘What are you talking about? I don’t even…’
‘I threw away the surprise package I found in there,’ said Michelle calmly. ‘Don’t be anxious. Felix doesn’t know. It’s just between you and me.’
‘I don’t know what you mean…’ Nancy’s voice stuttered to a halt.
‘You can get out a baking tray and we can have those mince pies with our coffee.’
With an immense effort, Nancy turned and slid open the drawer. She pulled out a baking tray, her eyes searching for the bag and not finding it. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
Michelle stepped forward and took the tray from her other hand.
‘Poor Nancy,’ she said.