BEX
We’re running on the Heath, and I’ve never felt more alive. I suppose the afternoon nap must have helped. The air is clean and cold on my face and Jen is in the mood to kill. I can see it in her eyes. They are hard and precise, and she’s possessed by a determination, and a courage, that I have to admire. The final strands of the plan have all come together with a simplicity that’s so pleasing, as though fate’s on my side.
In the flat we went through what needed to be done over and over again. When I instructed her in the technique of cutting the carotid arteries, her eyes began to shine with an eerie brightness, as if her whole being was energised at the prospect. She held the knife with the confidence of a professional. She was an ideal pupil, staying silent when she needed to listen, asking questions when necessary, uncomplaining when I bound the knife to the inside part of her left arm. I’m sure she must have felt some discomfort, but she bore it all like a perfect stoic.
As Jen took in my every word I could hardly believe this moment had actually come. This was what I’ve been working towards. It would serve as a fitting counterpart to the scene I’d directed on Parliament Hill Fields, between Daniel Oliver and Victoria Da Silva. I’d been watching it all from a distance, only frustrated I couldn’t witness it unfold at closer quarters.
Over the years I’d kept in touch with Dan, and I even made him believe that I’d forgiven him for finishing with me back when he was still in his late teens. That had hurt me hard at the time. But I was able to put on a good front. He considered me a good mate, someone he could confide in. And because I was close to him, I was able to prime him, able to lay out the foundations for the crime with a precision that even impressed me. I knew he was unnaturally jealous, I’d learned that during my own relationship with him. And when he’d finished with me I vowed to myself that one day I’d get my revenge on him. All it took was for me to befriend his new girlfriend, Vicky, and introduce her to Laurence.
I hoped that not only would Vicky, an interior designer, look up to Laurence, an architect, but that she would fancy him too. And boy did she fall for him. Hard. Laurence was looking for a bit of light relief after the breakdown of his five-year relationship with Jen. And Vicky, beautiful, in her twenties, stepped into that role.
As a ‘friend’ to both of them, I served as a go-between, ferrying messages back and forth, arranging illicit meetings. I was privy to the intimate details of their relationship – in particular Vicky used me as a sounding board, asking my advice about her increasingly strong feelings towards Laurence. I told her that she should definitely pursue the relationship, that it was obvious he loved her, that he was looking for a long-term partner, and perhaps she could be the mother of his children. When she told me that she was pregnant I couldn’t believe it. It was beyond my wildest dreams.
It didn’t matter whether the baby was Dan’s or another man’s; the sheer unknowability of it was enough to drive Dan mad. To unsettle him further I used some of my old tricks. Cards from restaurants. Fake hotel bills. Handwritten notes. But then I also employed some of the fruits of new technology. Intimate texts sent from unknown mobiles. Emails disguised to look like they’d come from a new boyfriend. Head shots of Laurence. Blurred obscene photos that seemed to show a woman who looked very much like Vicky having oral sex with a man whose face could not be seen. And the beauty of it was that it worked like a dream. Their Valentine’s Day turned into a bloodbath, a real-life horror film witnessed by none other than Jen, who I’d arranged to meet at the top of Parliament Hill Fields.
I’d also told Laurence that Vicky intended to end it all with Dan that day on the Heath. I appealed to Laurence’s chivalrous nature – despite everything, I knew he wouldn’t want her to get hurt. Of course, I didn’t know precisely how Dan or Vicky would react when they saw Laurence, but I was hoping that Dan might recognise Laurence from some of the images I’d sent over. That, or Vicky might be prompted to tell Dan the truth about her affair with Laurence. The whole thing was choreographed like a deliciously dark ballet, one in which Jen played a leading role.
It had all been done for her benefit, even though she would never know it. I realised that she would have to be at the centre of it, she would have to see it all. But she would be forced to question what unfolded. On the surface the attack seemed like a straightforward case of jealousy, but of course the layers underneath were more complex and sinister. The messages tempted her into investigating the truth of the matter, they drew her into a web she could not escape. However, she’d never know how my revenge on Daniel and my manipulation of her came together like two strands of a dark melody in that one moment on the Heath. It was a case of the most perfect, most beautiful counterpoint.
Earlier that afternoon I’d laid out the plan as simply as possible, but of course I left out a few things. While it was true that we would only go ahead with it if we could be certain no one could see us – I didn’t want any people who would witness us, or CCTV to capture our actions – I intended to add one extra element to the scheme, something that would guarantee I’d be able to control what happened next. I didn’t want Jen to walk out of my life like all those others.
What she didn’t know was that, just as she was about to murder Laurence, I would take out my phone and record everything. The camera would show her plunging the knife into his neck, drawing it across his throat, slashing into the arteries. It would document her wiping the knife with the tissues before strapping the weapon back onto her arm.
Obviously, I wouldn’t dream of sharing the footage with anyone, I would tell her. This would be our little secret. No one need ever know. It would bind us together in a very special way.