THIRTY-SEVEN
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“Phone for you, Jenn!”
Jenneen turned back, looking at her watch. “I’m already late for editing,” she said, as she took the phone from the secretary. “Who is it?”
“Didn’t say,” the secretary answered, and walked off to her own desk.
“Hello, Jenneen Grey.”
“It’s Matthew.”
Jenneen froze. It was the first time she’d heard from him since the day he had beaten her up.
“I want to see you tonight, Jenn. Seven thirty, your place.”
Jenneen was surprised, it wasn’t like Matthew to make an appointment. “Well,” she said, “I’m glad you do, because it so happens that I want to see you too.”
“Good,” said Matthew. “I won’t be staying long so you don’t have to cancel any engagements.”
“How considerate of you,” Jenneen remarked, and hung up.
She wandered on up to VTR on the fifth floor, her mind only half on what she was doing or where she was going.
But it wasn’t Matthew she was thinking about. She was still in the hold of the strange and alien feeling that had been with her ever since the weekend. At first she had been unable to identify it. It wasn’t a bad feeling, in fact it was quite the reverse. She liked the way it seeped into her bones when she woke in the mornings, the way it followed her through the day and sometimes into her dreams. And as the days went by and she and Vicky spent more and more time together, she finally began to understand that the feeling was one of completeness. Completeness, and honesty. Finally she was facing up to the things she felt inside. There was nothing to run away from any more, because she had found what she always needed, had she but known it.
It was still a little difficult to grasp sometimes, that she and Vicky had become lovers. It seemed incredible. And even now as she remembered the softness of Vicky’s skin, the beauty of her eyes, and the way she kissed her, a part of her still burned with shame. But the shame was becoming less and less as each day passed, and Jenneen was growing to accept that other part of her that almost rejoiced in the feelings. It was right. So right. For some reason it didn’t seem sordid, not like she might have expected it to. And not like all the other times, the times when she had been with a man. It was clean and gentle and good.
She had talked to no one about what had happened, not even Dr Bryant, the psychiatrist she had seen the day before; that would have to come later. One step at a time, Vicky had told her, there was no hurry. Jenneen could see her face now, looking at her, her eyes shining, her voice gentle.
“You’re not the first person in the world this has happened to,” Vicky had smiled, “and you won’t be the last. For some it is easier. All the prejudices that have been implanted in you by your family over the years won’t go away quickly. You must give it time. But you will see, there is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Jenneen smiled. Dear Vicky. Of the two of them she had always been the strong one, the one who would never let life get her down. But this morning she had seemed vulnerable, and almost afraid. Jenneen wondered if Vicky was already in love with her, and surprisingly the thought didn’t frighten her. She had to admit to a certain sense of foreboding, and there was no doubt the whole thing would be complicated, but Jenneen knew that in her heart she wanted Vicky to be in love with her.
She wanted to call her now, or go round to the shop and see her. She wanted to hold her in her arms again. It was a strange sensation, holding another woman, in a way she had only ever held a man before. There was something so exhilarating about it, as if she could become drunk on the mere aroma of another woman’s skin.
Jenneen laughed out loud. To think that she was fantasising about something she had never even dared to think about before. And now it was already beyond fantasy. The touch of Vicky’s lips, moving so gently against hers, sent waves of emotion through her that she had never experienced before. The feel of her breasts against her own, and her small hands running lightly across her neck and down over her shoulders. Less than a week ago it would have been something that Jenneen thought she might have found repulsive, and unthinkable. Yet now all she wanted was to feel her close again.
She walked into the VTR booth where an insert was being edited for the following day’s programme. Greg, the editor, looked up as she came in. “I carried on without you,” he said. “Do you want to see what I’ve done so far?”
“If you like,” said Jenneen. “But I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
Greg’s fingers hovered over the buttons. “Shall I spin back, or not?”
“Go on then, let’s have a look.”
Moving his fingers like a clumsy pianist he pressed the appropriate buttons and sent the machine outside spinning back to the beginning of the tape. Jenneen wandered over to the door and looked out into the main area that housed the large video tape machines.
“How many machines have we got?”
“Two.”
“Silly question,” she said. “When do we ever get more than two? But I thought we were getting three today?”
“We were,” he answered, “but the news have taken one for an hour to transmit some interview on the six o’clock.”
She looked over at the machines again as she heard the tape wind off the end.
“Damn!” Greg muttered. He got up from his chair. “Hang on, I’ll just go and lace up again.”
Jenneen followed him over and watched him as he threaded the tape back into the machine. Suddenly she thought she heard a voice she recognized. She looked around, trying to see where the voice was coming from. “Hey,” she cried, looking at the little monitor on the machine adjacent to theirs, “isn’t that Bob McElfrey?”
Greg looked up. “Know him, do you?” He sounded impressed.
“Yes. What’s he doing here? Which programme is that?”
“The news.”
“I’ll be right back,” said Jenneen, and she disappeared into the booth next to theirs. “Mind if I watch?” she asked the engineer who was transmitting the interview.
He cleared his briefcase from the chair beside him. “Be my guest.”
The interview was already half through. She had been battling with her guilt for days now that she had not been in touch with Ellamarie, but she had been so busy since she had returned from Vicky’s. Still, if she watched the interview, she’d ring Ellamarie after and tell her how wonderful she thought Bob was.
Bob was talking about the Arts Conference that he was attending later that evening, and Jenneen remembered that she too had been invited. She was rather regretting not accepting now that she knew Bob v as going to be there, when the camera pulled back to a two shot, to reveal the woman sitting beside Bob.
Jenneen sat forward as the woman began to speak. “. . . yes,” she was saying, “yes, I still do some eventing myself on occasions, but not often. And Bob used to, in his younger days, didn’t you?” she said, turning to look at him.
Bob laughed, and it was then that Jenneen noticed that they were holding hands.
“Have you ever found it to be a strain on your marriage; with you being so busy with your horses and Bob being away such a lot?” the interviewer asked.
“Not a strain exactly,” was the reply, “but I have to admit I do miss him when he’s not at home.”
The interviewer turned back to Bob. “I believe that you are flying to New York on Friday.”
Bob nodded.
“Would that be anything to do with the rumours that you are to make a film of the Queen of Cornwall?”
Bob laughed.
“We’ve heard rumours that you might have found someone to play the part of the Queen. Can I ask who it’s to be?”
“Only rumours,” Bob answered. “We did have someone in mind, but that has fallen through now.”
“And you, Mrs McElfrey. Will you be going to New York with your husband?”
“As a matter of fact,” she said, “I am. I don’t usually go with him, but we thought that perhaps we would make this trip into a holiday. It might be the last one we have for a little while,” and she turned to look at her husband again.
Dumbfounded as she was, Jenneen didn’t miss the sudden flash of discomfort that flitted across Bob’s face before he smiled.
“I suppose your husband’s heavy workload prevents too many holidays?” said the interviewer.
“Sometimes,” Linda smiled, and she looked at Bob again before she leaned forward, her face more than a little flushed. “Actually, I’ll let you into a little secret. The real reason that Bob and I won’t be taking too many holidays, at least in the next year or two, is that we are expecting our first baby in February.”
Jenneen turned her head towards the engineer, dimly aware of the interviewer gushing his congratulations. “Oh my God!” she muttered. “Oh my God!” She jumped to her feet. “Where’s the phone?”
The engineer pointed her to the main office outside. Thankfully there was no one in it. Quickly she dialled. It was a long time before Ellamarie answered.
“Ellamarie!” Jenneen cried.
“It’s all right, Jenn, I’ve seen it.”
“Oh my God!” Jenneen gasped. “Ellamarie, I don’t know what to say. Did you know?”
Ignoring the question, Ellamarie said: “Can you come over, Jenn? I don’t think I could stand to be on my own tonight.”
Jenneen looked out to the edit booth where she should be right now. If she walked out she knew she would be putting her new programme in jeopardy. Oh hell, what could she do? Thinking fast, she said: “Look, I’ll come as soon as I can. But meanwhile, call Kate and get her to come round right away. Oh Ellamarie, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Ellamarie said, and she hung up.
Ellamarie looked at the phone for a long time before she dialled Kate’s number. What could any of them do? She had lost him for good now, she knew that. And in case she had ever doubted it, he had allowed Linda to announce it to the world. But her friends would help her through this, they had to.
Kate sounded rushed when she answered the phone. “I’m dashing to the airport,” she explained. “Nick’s waiting for me in New York. Didn’t Jenneen tell you? No, I didn’t see the news tonight, did something happen? Nothing? Oh, you are funny at times, Ellamarie. Look, tell you what, I’ll call over on my way to the airport, how does that suit? No, no of course it won’t be any trouble; my flight’s not until much later. Oh, what a lovely thing to say, of course you can drive me to the airport. Must rush now, see you later,” and she rang off.
Calloway used his own key to let himself into Kate’s flat. As he turned to close the door behind him she rushed past, carrying a pile of clothes, and disappeared into the bedroom.
He hung up his coat and followed her in. “What are you doing?” he asked, seeing the open suitcase laid out on her bed.
For a second she tensed, then abruptly carried on with what she was doing. I’m going to New York.”
“New York?” he said, starting to walk towards the bed. “Are you being sent on an assignment? You never mentioned it.”
She dragged a bundle of underwear out of a drawer and flung it into the suitcase. “No, I’m going to New York because Nick’s there.”
Her father stopped in his tracks, and stared at her. “Nick!”
“Yes, Nick.”
“But I thought . . .” He stopped, and Kate carried on with her packing, trying to stop her hands shaking. Her father watched her, as determinedly she moved between the bed and the wardrobe. “You mean to tell me,” he finally managed to splutter, “that you’re actually going running to him, after what he did to you?”
Kate’s fingers tightened round the dress she was holding. She hadn’t reckoned on her father coming here tonight, and the effort of keeping her mind empty of the things Jenneen had told her was becoming too great. Slowly she turned to face him. “And what did he do to me, Daddy? Just what did Nick do to me?”
“Kate, for God’s sake, you can’t have forgotten already.”
Kate was looking into the face she had known and loved all her life. Even now that she knew what he had told Nick, she still didn’t want to believe it. But she had spoken to Nick, and he had told her himself. He had told her that she must come to New York right away. “Don’t see your father first,” he had said, “just get on the next flight.” And that was what she had intended to do. But now he was here, and despite her anger and confusion, she knew she didn’t want to leave him like this. She loved him, and no matter what he had done he was still her father.
He started to walk towards her, and despite her turmoil, she felt herself beginning to slip into his arms.
“Daddy, oh Daddy,” she cried, “what is happening? Why did they say all those things? Tell me they aren’t true. Please say you never said any of it.”
“Sssh,” he whispered, holding her and stroking her hair.
“Please,” she begged him, “please say it’s not true.”
“What have they been saying? Who have you been talking to?”
She looked down as she felt him take her hand in his, and a sudden wave of disgust twisted her gut. She leapt away. “No!” she gasped. “No, you can’t touch me. You mustn’t. Not after . . .” her voice trailed away.
“Darling, what is it?” Her father tried to take her in his arms again.
“No!” she shrieked. “They said . . . Jenneen, Nick, they said . . . No, don’t come near me. You can’t. You shouldn’t be here. Oh my God, what’s happening? I’ve got to go to Nick.”
She looked around the room in desperation. She wanted to get away from him, but at the same time she wanted him to take her in his arms and tell her it was all just a nightmare. If she faced what in her heart she knew to be the truth then she would have to accept that this was the end for her and her father. That they could never see one another again.
“Kate,” he said.
She looked at him and saw the love in his eyes. It was the love she had always seen in his eyes – ever since she was a child.
Seeing her weaken again he held his hand out to her. Very slowly she lifted her own and placed it in his. “There, there,” he soothed, “let’s just gather up your things and go home, shall we? I’ve got the car waiting downstairs.”
She buried her face in his shoulder. “Oh Daddy,” she sobbed. “Everything’s going so horribly wrong.”
“Shush, my darling. Everything’s going to be all right. You’re very tired, that’s all. You need a nice long rest. Come along now.”
He lifted her face and looked into her eyes. She tried to blink away the tears, tried to think of what she should be doing, but her mind had ceased to function. Her father had run her life for so long that the only thing she could do was listen to him now. He was the only one she could trust. Her friends had lied to her. They must have. Hadn’t they lied to her before about Joel? And now they were lying to her again. Her father could never be capable of what they were suggesting. It was horrible and disgusting.
Gazing into her eyes, as she looked up at him so helplessly, he felt an overpowering surge of love flood through his body. And with it went his last vestige of control. Slowly he bent his head and placed his lips over hers.
She didn’t resist. Paralysed by the sheer horror of what was happening, she felt her father’s mouth moving gently against her own. His arm circled her shoulder, holding her in the way he had when she was a child. But she was no longer a child, and something a long way inside her started to scream that this was wrong. That what he was doing to her was evil. This man was her father, and he was holding her and kissing her like a lover.
“No!” She flung herself away from him. “It can’t be true. Why are you doing this?” He made to grab her but she backed away. “I’ve got to get away from you,” she cried. “No, don’t touch me. Oh my God, Nick! Yes, Nick. I must go to him.”
“Kate, you can’t,” her father’s voice was pleading.
“Stop it! Please, just stop.”
Calloway tried to pull the suitcase from the bed. “I won’t let you.”
“Let go,” she cried, trying to pull it back again. “Let go, let go.”
“Kate,” he begged, “listen to me. You can’t go to him. You’re making a terrible mistake. He doesn’t love you, you’ve got to believe me. He doesn’t love you.”
“He does!” she yelled. “He loves me, and he wants me. Oh, let go.” She tugged at the suitcase again.
Her father tore the case away from her and threw it across the floor. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here, with me.”
“No,” she screamed.
He looked at her with eyes so determined, she felt herself begin to give way again.
“Oh Daddy, don’t, don’t,” she wailed. “Don’t you see? I love him,” and she ran from the room.
He found her in the kitchen, rummaging frenziedly through a drawer, searching for her passport.
“Kate,” he said, swallowing hard. “You’ve got to listen to me.”
“No. I don’t want to listen to you any more. Leave me alone. Just go away and leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough damage?”
“Please. Just listen. You can’t go to New York. You can’t go to Nick. He doesn’t want you, Kate. He doesn’t need you. It’s me who needs you. Can’t you see that? I need you here, with me. I need you. Don’t leave me, Kate. I’m begging you, don’t leave me.”
She tried to push past him. He caught hold of her by the shoulders, and forced her to look into his face. “You can’t do this to me, Kate. You can’t leave me. He’ll never be able to do all the things for you that I can. Don’t go, my darling, please say you won’t leave me. I love you, Kate. Don’t you understand that? I love you.”
Kate stared at him in horror.
“Kate,” his voice was a little calmer now, and feeling no resistance from her he pulled her towards him and pushed his mouth against hers.
“Noooooo!” she screamed, and with every fibre of strength in her body she pushed him away. He fell back against the wall.
She watched him as he pulled himself up again, and started to come towards her. She stepped back, holding her hands out in front of her, and shaking her head. She was sobbing, and whimpering, begging him to stay away, but he kept on coming.
“Kate, don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me with your eyes like that. It’ll be all right, don’t you see? Everything will be all right.”
“Don’t touch me.”
He took her hands, and pushed her back against the cupboard.
She closed her eyes. “This isn’t happening,” she whispered. “Please God, this isn’t happening.”
“Don’t say that.” His face was very close to hers. “You love me too, Kate, you know you do. In your heart, you know you do.”
“No, please. Oh God help me. Help me, someone please, help me!”
She tried to pull her hands away, but his grip was too tight. And then he had her hands pinned behind her back, and he was pushing himself against her. He pressed his mouth to hers again, and she wrenched her head away, choking on the bile in her throat. His hands were fumbling with her shirt, and she could feel them hard against her skin.
She screamed, and managed to break free. She fled to the other side of the kitchen, trying to catch her breath. He turned to face her.
“Don’t come near me,” she sobbed, as he started to walk towards her again, but he didn’t stop. She fumbled with the drawer behind her, and dug her hand inside.
“Kate,” he said again.
“No, stay where you are. Please, stay where you are. Don’t come any closer.”
He kept coming.
Her fingers curled round the handle of the knife. As he sobbed on her name she thrust the knife between them, but it was too late, he was already throwing himself against her.
Their eyes locked in disbelief. She watched her father’s face as slowly it began to contort in agony. Then silently he fell away from her, leaving her clutching the knife, her face wide with horror.
Seconds later she spun round as a knock on the door echoed through the silent flat.
Two hours later, Ellamarie was still waiting for Kate. But Jenneen would be here soon, there was no need to panic. Don’t think about Bob, don’t think about him being at the Arts Conference with his wife. Don’t think about all the cruel things he said. Close your eyes, don’t look round the room, it will only remind you. How many times had she said all these things to herself, but still she thought, and still she looked.
Where was Jenneen? Why didn’t she come now? Kate had said she’d come . . .
The minutes slipped past and still there was no knock on the door. She stood at the window, looking out on the empty street. The night was so silent, if only something would happen. If only someone would come. She pressed her face against the windowpane. Bob! Oh Bob! She could see him walking round the corner now. There he was, taking his keys out of his pocket. He was coming in. He had come back to her.
She blinked, and the street was empty again.
Finally she had to accept that no one was going to come. Alone, in a place she had come to think of as home, she was now a stranger.
She picked up the phone and dialled.
“Morn?”
“Oh Ellamarie, it’s you. How are you, dear?”
“I want to come home, Mom.”
“But we’re going away, dear. Didn’t I tell you? No? Oh well, we are. Three weeks. We’re going down to Florida. Sure, I’ll give your love to Daddy. Did you call for anything else? No. Speak to you soon then, dear. Goodbye.”
Ellamarie could feel the precipice drawing closer.
With a relaxed, almost nonchalant air, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, Matthew strolled along the hallway of Jenneen’s flat. He looked around, as if he were seeing it for the first time. Once or twice he stopped to look at the photographs in their clip frames hanging on the wall. No paintings, only photographs. There were some of Jenneen on location, some of her with guests in the studio, and others, weird sort of abstract ones, taken by professionals. He walked on.
Jenneen followed him, her arms folded, and stopped whenever he stopped, as if she was showing someone round a gallery.
He had arrived earlier than she had expected him; she was wearing her bathrobe, a towel wrapped round her hair. She looked at her watch, praying that this wouldn’t take long. She was worried about Ellamarie and wanted to get over there as quick as she could.
Eventually Matthew pushed open the door of the lounge, went over to the dining table at the other end of the room and sat down. Jenneen was surprised by this. Normally he made straight for the whisky.
She followed him towards the table ‘but stopped halfway across the room. He was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, his hands still in his pockets. His chin was almost resting on his chest, but she could see that he had a smile on his lips, a pleasant enough one, and he was only half watching her.
She kept her arms folded, and shifted her weight onto one leg. “So, Matthew, here we are again. Things don’t change much, do they?”
He looked at her for a second or two, then taking a hand out of his pocket he put his elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand.
“Well, at least you’re not drunk tonight,” she said. “So perhaps some things do change.” When he didn’t say anything she turned to a pile of books she had left lying on the small table under the window. She took them across to the bookshelves and began to slot them into place. He sat watching her, but still didn’t speak.
“Matthew, do you think we could get on with this,” she said, as she slid the last one in. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She turned back to face him.
“Suits me,” he answered. “Exactly what is it you’d like to be getting on with?”
“Oh, cut the crap, Matthew,” she said. “You called me, remember? How much do you want? Fifty, a hundred, hundred and fifty?”
“Very generous of you,” he drawled.
“It’ll be the last you get,” she said. “After tonight there will be no more.”
“Oh? You’ve made up your mind about that, have you?”
“I have.”
“Good.”
She didn’t like the way he was behaving. This easy, relaxed attitude was not like him. “Well?”
He looked up at the ceiling, chewing his bottom lip and thinking. “I’m glad you’ve arrived at that decision,” he said after a minute or two. “It fits in rather nicely with my own decision. By the way, what news on the new programme?”
“It’s going into the spring schedules. But you probably know that already.”
He laughed. “You’re right, I do.”
She looked at her watch.
“And the roving reporter’s job?”
“Is gone. Bill appointed someone last week. It was his decision, I had no say in it.”
“Fine by me,” he said.
She eyed him warily. That was not the reaction she had expected at all. She folded her arms again. “Just what is this all about, Matthew?”
He lifted his arm from the table, and stuffed his hand back in his pocket. He looked down at his legs as he crossed one over the other, then lifted his head again. “How’s Vicky?”
Jenneen froze.
“Sorry,” he said, “I should have asked earlier. Very remiss of me, I know.”
Jenneen turned to face him, her eyes blazing with hatred. “You filthy, scheming, blackmailing little toad. Get out of here.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Obviously I’ve upset you. Let’s forget I mentioned Vicky, shall we? Let’s pretend I never said a word about her. After all, I didn’t mention anything about her being a lesbian, did I? And I didn’t say a thing about what you two dykes get up to in bed at night. So let’s forget I ever said anything.”
She glared at him, with loathing. “God, you really hate me, don’t you?”
“Hate you? No, I don’t hate you, Jenn. Not me. Now Maggie, yes, remember little Maggie? She hates you. Don’t ask me why, but she does. And I keep telling her, don’t worry, Maggie, I say, you’re not Jenneen’s type. But it makes no difference, she just carries on hating you. Still, I wouldn’t let it bother you, she’ll probably get over it.”
“OK,” said Jenneen. “OK. You’re right. Vicky and I are lovers. Yes, you’re right. We sleep together, and we make love together. Are you happy now? I’ve admitted it. Does that satisfy you?”
“Does it satisfy you, Jenneen?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re not?” He shrugged. “Anyway, I haven’t come here to discuss your perverted life with Vicky. No, I’ve come to say goodbye.” He walked across to the settee and sat down. “I’ve got a little something for you, actually,” he said. Delving into his jacket he pulled out a brown envelope, and handed it to her.
She didn’t take it, so he put it on the table. “No rush,” he said.
She looked at the envelope. Her curiosity got the better of her reluctance and she walked over to the table and picked it up.
Her voice escaped in a strangled cry as she saw the photographs inside, and for one horrifying moment she thought she was going to pass out.
“Nice town, Brighton, isn’t it?” he said.
Her face was ashen.
As he laughed she felt a white-hot furnace of hatred begin to rage inside her. He looked so ugly sitting there. His face unshaven, and angry red spots on his neck. His hair was greasy and uncombed. He looked like a tramp.
He reached out and took the envelope from her, turning it over in his hand as if he were making a study of it. “You know, it’s just occurred to me, do you think Vicky would like to see them? Jenneen on a day trip to Brighton? Well, I’ve got another set, I’ll let you have them, you can look at them together. Tell me, just out of interest, does the sight of two men fucking one woman turn you lesbians on?”
Her throat was dry and her voice croaked as she spoke. “There’s nothing you can do with those photographs, Matthew, and you know it. No newspaper in the land would print them. They wouldn’t be able to.”
“Oh, but they can. Not in their entirety, I grant you, but there are ways. And magazines of course. But they don’t get a wide enough circulation. And you want to be famous, don’t you, Jenneen? Sorry, I can’t help there. Well, I could, but I’m not going to. No, I’m not going to send these photographs to a newspaper or a pornographic magazine. No, I’m sending them somewhere quite different. The envelope is already addressed. Look, you can read it.” He pushed it towards her.
The thumping of her heart pounded through her ears and all she could do was look back at him.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll read it to you if you like,” and he turned the envelope over. “Number 23, Hallsinger Street, Oak . . .”
“Noooo!” she screamed. She rushed for the envelope and tore it out of his hand. And with unnatural strength, she ripped it into tiny pieces.
Matthew took another envelope from his pocket, identical to the last.
“You bastard! You fucking bastard! What have they ever done to you?”
“Your parents? Nothing. Leastways, nothing I can remember. No, I merely thought that they might be interested to know what their precious Jenneen gets up to, down here in little old London town. Or in this case, Brighton town.”
Jenneen felt her blood run cold. “How did you find their address?”
“Oh come on, Jenneen, it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to work that one out. Maggie. Remember, dear little Maggie. She’s got a set too. I think she wants to send them to her mother. Lives quite close to yours, doesn’t she?”
Jenneen’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Vicky was right about you. You’re evil. Sick, evil, sadistic and callous.”
“Back to Vicky, are we? Course, Mumsy doesn’t know about Vicky either, does she? Wonder if I should drop her a line and tell her about that too.” He got up from the chair and tucked the envelope back inside his jacket. “Still, didn’t you say something earlier about being in a hurry? So I’ll be off. Just thought I’d drop in and give you the news. Goodbye, Jenneen. Good luck,” and he walked towards the door.
“Stop, Matthew!” she hissed. “Just stop right where you are.”
He was smiling as he turned. “Did you want to say some . . .”
“Give me the envelope, Matthew. Give it to me, now.” Her hand shook very slightly as she tightened her grip on the barrel of the gun.
Matthew’s smile faded.
“Give it to me, Matthew.”
“You haven’t got the guts,” he sneered. “It’s probably not even loaded.”
“There’s only one way to find out. Now give me the envelope.”
“Jenneen, darling,” he said, poking his head forward, “go fuck yourself.”
“I mean it, Matthew. Give me the envelope, and then you can go. But you are not walking through that door until you do.”
“You’re mad! You can’t kill me, and you know it. What would that do to your precious image? Nympho, lesbian, and murderer. Oh yes, it’ll all come out if you kill me. Have you stopped to think about that?”
She stayed rooted, pointing the gun.
“I said put it down, dyke! Go on, put it down. You’re not going to use it. You might be a pervert, but you’re not stupid. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic. Go on then, shoot me. Look, I’ll even hold up my arms for . . .”
“Shut up!” she screamed.
“Shoot me, you bitch, and I’ll come back and haunt you. Go on, shoot me!”
“JENNEEN, NO!” Vicky screamed from the door.
And the blast was deafening.