Twenty-three-year-old Rebecca Smith made the most of her opportunity for a lie-in before finally switching off her alarm, throwing back her single quilt and jumping out of bed with an easy enthusiasm she hadn’t felt in quite some time. The one advantage of living alone, she reminded herself, was being your own boss in your own home. Or at least as far as both the past and current circumstances allowed.
Rebecca made a quick bathroom visit before pulling on a thick woollen cardigan against the morning frost and heading downstairs to prepare breakfast. It felt good to be alone with her thoughts, good to have some time to herself, and best of all to have a new target in mind. Such things gave purpose to her lonely existence and made life worth living. She hadn’t self-harmed even once since putting her plans into action. No cuts, no bruises and no thoughts of suicide. That spoke for itself. She was inspired. Driven. Happiness was perhaps something of an exaggeration, but mild contentment was a reasonable description of her current state of mind. As long as she focused. As long as she prevented her mind wandering and didn’t let that smug bastard into her head even for a single second.
She stood at the kitchen table and noticed that her hand was trembling slightly as she dropped a generous portion of cereal into a porcelain bowl. She added chilled soya milk from the small counter fridge and a light sprinkling of local honey she considered a justifiable treat, while waiting for the kettle to come to the boil. Why did the frigging thing always take so long when you were watching it?
Rebecca glanced at her laptop charging on a nearby countertop and briefly considered checking to see if her latest target had sent any further messages. But she quickly decided it could wait for another hour or so. Let the bastard sweat. Don’t seem too keen. That was best. It wasn’t as if he were going anywhere. Perhaps give her mum a ring after breakfast instead. It had been a while and duty must. She had to be the good daughter whatever the pressures of life.
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The phone rang and rang for what seemed like an age, but was in reality a little over a minute, before Janice Smith finally said, ‘Hello,’ in a breathless voice that sounded as if she’d just completed a marathon.
Oh, Mum. Poor Mum. She sounded older and more exhausted by the day. Stress could do that to a girl. ‘Hi, Mum, it’s Becca. Are you okay? You sound a little out of breath.’
Janice took a blue plastic asthma inhaler from her corduroy flares and inhaled two urgent puffs before stuffing it back in a front pocket. ‘Hi, Becca, I’m fine, thanks. I was upstairs seeing to Dad as usual. But, more to the point, how are you on this fine morning?’
She was putting on a brave face again. She’d been doing it for seventeen years. Why would she change now? ‘How’s Dad doing? I keep meaning to call, but work’s been hectic.’
‘It’s good to hear your voice again. How’s that wonderful boyfriend of yours? Didn’t you say he’s a barrister?’
What a gullible woman. Or did it suit her mum to believe? Perhaps it was a positive choice of sorts. A coping mechanism. Truth and lies became one as required.
‘Are you still there, Becca? The phone seems to be playing up again.’
‘He’s away at the moment, working on a high-profile case in London. You may have seen it on the news.’
‘Not that big murder case involving the actor?’
She’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Swallowed every deceptive word. ‘Yes, that’s the one. Paul’s a QC now. The youngest in the country.’
‘Well, that’s marvellous. You’ve fallen on your feet with that one.’
‘So, how’s Dad?’
She paused before replying, fidgeting with her cuff. ‘Much the same, to be honest. That last stroke did a lot of damage. He can’t really do very much at all for himself any more. I know you’re busy with that important job of yours, but we haven’t seen you for months. He’d love to see you again.’
Rebecca threw her half-empty cup at the nearest wall, smashing it into what seemed a hundred jagged pieces.
‘What was that, Rebecca? It sounded like a window breaking.’
Focus, Becca, focus. It would all be over soon enough. ‘I’m good, Mum. I just dropped a cup, that’s all. There’s nothing to worry about… you were telling me about Dad. Are the council carers still coming to the house?’
‘Oh, yes, four times every day. They don’t stay for nearly long enough, but they do their best with the time they’re allocated. I couldn’t do without them, to be honest. That’s the truth of it. Shit happens. I’ve just had to get used to it.’
‘All that misery because one dirty perverted bastard did what he did. He’s still haunting us like a brooding, malicious, spiteful spirit. He blew our lives apart. We were pulverised. Dragged through a mincer. Me, you and Dad. None of us were ever the same again. He’s a dark shadow that hangs over our very existence.’
Janice Smith closed her eyes tight shut. ‘Oh, not this again. The dark mantra of your fragile soul. You’ve got to learn to put all that behind you, Becca. Like that nice social worker said all those years ago. Do you remember? Dad’s life is over. That’s the brutal reality. And mine’s not much better. But yours is just beginning. You’ve got a great job, a lovely home and that wonderful boyfriend you’ve told me all about. Try to concentrate on the good things in life and look to the future. That’s my advice. Sometimes memories are our enemies rather than our friends. Sometimes the past is best forgotten.’
Blah de blah de blah. Easier said than done. And at least she was doing something about it. Something positive. Something meaningful. Not wallowing in her guilt and sorrow like they were.
‘Hello, Becca, are you still there? The phone keeps going dead on me.’
‘Sheridan’s still with us. He’s like a foul odour that we can’t wash away, however hard we try.’
Janice Smith administered two further urgent puffs of her bronchodilator, and sank to the floor as her chest tightened, tighter, tighter and tighter, as if squeezed by an invisible vice as she gasped for breath. ‘Can’t we t-talk about s-something d-different for a change? Please, c-cariad! I just c-can’t take any more of this.’ She was panting hard now, like an overheated dog in need of water. ‘T-tell me about that j-job of yours. You’re s-such a clever girl.’
‘I’ve been promoted again.’
‘Oh, well done. That’s w-wonderful to h-hear. You’re doing so v-very well for yourself. Tell m-me all about it.’
‘It’s always the same. Anything to cheer up your unhappy existence.’
‘I’m just taking an interest, that’s all. There’s no n-need to be cruel.’
‘I’m still at Police Headquarters. Computers. But I’m a supervisor now. It means more money and my own office.’
‘Congratulations, you d-deserve it after all your hard work at that university. So what exactly d-do you do with those computers of yours?’
Rebecca held the handset out in front of her and glared at it before speaking again. ‘I haven’t got time to explain all that now. It’s complicated. There’s things I need to get on with. Things demanding my attention. I’ll ring again in a week or two.’
Janice’s breathing was calmer now. The vice released to some extent as she began to relax. ‘I’m so pleased you’re doing so well. I’ll tell Dad all about it. You’re a credit to us… I love you, Becca.’
Rebecca broke into a smile that lit up her face. ‘And I love you too, Mum. Give my best to Dad.’
‘I will. It’ll cheer him up a bit.’
Duty done and time to go. Where was that laptop? The bastard would be champing at the bit by now. ‘Bye for now, Mum. Speak soon.’
‘Bye, Becca. Look after yourself. I love you.’