Lucy stared at the text. Not that she needed to because it was burned into her memory. She could close her eyes and the words would flash on the back of her eyelids as anger, hot and frothy, rose inside her.
‘I saw the news. Please let me help. Refuge still an option. Is Lucy still with you? I don’t trust her. XXX Charlotte.’
She had been just about to discard Emily’s phone when it came through, which was convenient given Charlotte had been playing on her mind. Lucy took it as a sign. Seeing Charlotte was enough to keep her awake at night. She jabbed at the delete key, wishing she had let Emily go to the refuge now. All the time and effort she had put into her, then she just threw it all back in her face: calling her names and going berserk. What sort of a mother was that? Lucy grimaced. No mother at all. But she had taken care of her, and there was just one loose end to tie up before she could start afresh.
Lucy replied to the text in the same simpering tone.
‘Meet me back of Mentmore Terrace, Lamb Lane. Cut through London Fields park. Under railway bridge at nine tonight. Lucy gone. Come alone. Need you. XXX Emily.’
Lucy shoved her hands into her coat pockets. She knew Charlotte would not be able to resist the text. She had read the newspaper articles as she searched her identity online. So kind, so giving. If only they knew. Lucy’s mouth jerked upwards in a macabre half smile. Whatever romantic notions the silly woman held of rescuing Emily, they would prove to be her downfall.
The rusted blue gates of the scrap metal firm creaked in the evening breeze. Behind them, a metal chain clanged against a pole, as if announcing Lucy’s arrival. She had parked at the back of an old industrial site, but the music playing in the distance told her that people weren’t far away. She sidestepped the bulging black bin bags spilling their contents on the street. Something rustled inside, but Lucy’s mind was on what awaited her around the corner, under the railway bridge, where they had arranged to meet. She had picked a secluded location, but Lucy didn’t trust her not to bring the police.
Pulling the baggy grey hoody over her head, she slowly sauntered past the graffiti daubed walls. Lucy knew she shouldn’t have come, but she could not let it lie. Turning the corner to the right, she kept out of sight until she saw a thin shadow of a woman under the railway bridge. Charlotte sneezed, and the high-pitched sound echoed down the lone street. Posh bitch. Lucy dipped her hand in her jacket pocket, stroking the handle of the flick knife. But stabbing was such a messy affair. She should have given it more thought. She glanced to the right at the old rusty Toyota parked on the kerb. The keys were hanging in the ignition. Another sign that it was meant to be. A dark thought entered her head, wet and rasping. She doesn’t deserve to live. Lucy swivelled her head up and down the road. No CCTV and nobody in sight. It was too good an opportunity to miss.
Do it. Do it. Do it, a small voice drummed in her head. She thinks she’s so great. Run the bitch over. Lucy glared at the woman pacing the kerb, and the voice grew louder in her head. What are you waiting for? Lifting the rusting handle, she grabbed the keys dangling from the ignition. The car may have been old, but the engine was souped-up, and Lucy grinned as she floored the accelerator. The sound of screeching tyres filled the air as she sped down the street. Charlotte stepped back, waiting for the car to pass. Lucy pulled down sharply on the steering wheel – jolted in her seat as the car mounted the kerb. Charlotte froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and a wicked laugh escaped Lucy’s lips. On she drove until Charlotte’s form grew; filling the windscreen. She bounced on the hood – a loud wallop of body mass on metal. Now you see her, now you don’t, Lucy thought, as she was launched in the air before her.
Rolling onto the street, Charlotte hit the road, arms flailing like a limp crash test dummy. Lucy slammed on the brakes, watching the broken body in her rear-view mirror. The low rumble of the engine ticked over, and she licked her lips as a slow grin spread on her face. Charlotte’s fingers clawed the pavement, her blonde head bobbing like a nodding dog. Down but not out, Lucy thought, adrenalin pumping through her body. Scanning the dimly lit streets, she gripped the gearstick and shoved the rusted Toyota into reverse. Another burst of laughter escaped her lips as her excitement climaxed.
Ker-thunk
Ker-thunk
The car rose and fell over Charlotte’s body.
Heart thumping, Lucy checked for movement. She clamped the gearstick forward and sent it thudding forwards one last time. Just to be sure. This time it didn’t make as much of a thunk, but lots of little cracks as the car crushed and splintered what was left of her bones. Lucy smiled. No chance of identifying her now. All that was left was a pool of blood and clothes.
She sped into the night, abandoning the car a couple of miles down the road. Pulling off the worn tracksuit top, she dipped the arm into the petrol tank before setting it alight. The blast singed the hairs on the back of her neck as she ran. Inside, she felt invincible. Untouchable.
She enjoyed the hunt. It gave her a special kind of joy. But there was no time to waste, and tomorrow, she would get back to the serious task of finding her mother.