Ipswich
10th August: The night of the murder
Caroline
Her hair is longer than I thought it was, that’s the first thing I notice about her. I’ve always known she was beautiful, of course, but in the flesh it is even more obvious, she is even more striking. It doesn’t surprise me, exactly, but it distracts me, and for a second or two I just gaze at her, in the way that Callum probably does, staring at the fineness of her features, much finer than mine, much finer than Jenny’s.
‘Can I come in?’ she says, and without waiting for an answer she seems to slip past me, through the open doorway and into the flat. She must have noticed my stained face, but she doesn’t say anything, and not knowing what else to do, I close the door behind us and follow her. She’s gone into the kitchen, her long limbs making the journey from the front door in just a few strides. Behind us, the bedroom hums, baby Eve sealed off from her.
‘Were you in the bath?’ she asks me, and I realise that the bathroom door is ajar; she can partially see the half-full tub, the light is on and there is a towel strewn on the floor. The bag of Eve’s things is hidden from view, on the ottoman to the right of the door.
‘Now isn’t a good time,’ I say eventually, finding my voice at last – my priority has to be Eve, making sure she is all right after what so nearly happened.
‘Why not?’ she asks me, and her tone is light, as if we are playing a game or discussing the options for dinner tonight. There is something similar to him in her gestures, the way she turns her head.
‘Why are you here?’ I say, and at that she laughs, a strange, high-pitched sound. She’s wearing loose clothing, a T-shirt and a pink skirt that floats around her knees. My own shirt is wet from where I held Eve’s body against me; I see her eyes flicker over the large damp patch.
‘I’m here because you don’t seem to be getting my messages,’ she says, smiling at me again, ‘so I thought I’d deliver one in person.’
Despite everything, I feel a further stab of horror when she says this.
‘You’re the one who’s been texting me those things?’ I say, and she nods, still smiling.
The bedroom is just metres away; the room feels like it is pulsing.
‘I have to do something,’ I say to her, ‘I can’t talk about this right now. I’m sorry – I’m sorry about Callum, about everything, but I can’t do this now.’
The smile drops off her face as quickly as it came.
Somewhere in the room, my phone beeps with a message.
‘You don’t get to choose when we talk about it,’ she hisses at me. ‘You didn’t care about me when you were with him, did you? You did exactly what you wanted; I’ve seen you.’ Abruptly, she stands up. We’re almost the same height, but I am larger than her, I feel every ounce of weight on my body as she looks at me.
‘No,’ I say, ‘that’s not what I – that’s not how it was. I never meant to hurt you.’
She laughs, head thrown back a little, teeth flashing in the light of the kitchen.
‘Come on then,’ she says, ‘let’s have a look at your little love nest. I’m curious, I have to say.’
Before I can stop her, she is darting past me, pushing open the door to the kitchen. Too late, I see one of Eve’s little pink socks on the sofa, discarded beside one of the cushions. She must know I don’t have children, but she doesn’t seem to notice it. She turns around and her gaze is fixed solely on me. I am what she wants.