Authors: Lisa Hinsley
Coombe's Wood (29 page)
By the time Connor arrived home, Izzy had turned a pale creamy shade. Her fingers trembled as she grasped at her mug, and a pile of used tissues was strewn over the floor next to the sofa. She’d spent two hours alternating between tears and anger. How dare he. How dare this man terrorize her.
“What the hell happened?” Connor walked into the living room and dropped his bag at his feet. “Is that
…
? Is George at it again?” Connor approached the window and peered out at the balcony. “Be glad guns aren’t legal in this country.” He strode out of the room and slammed his bedroom door.
She could have solved this years ago. When George first approached her in the Safeways where she worked, she could have said she’d never met him before, that he’d confused her with someone else. Failing that, if she’d refused the drink, or kicked him out the first time he hit her, or left when she fell pregnant. She should have told someone when he murdered her second child. She reached for another tissue.
Connor’s door opened and closed, followed swiftly by the front door.
Izzy shook her head, and closed her eyes. She picked up her cup of cold tea and sipped, then with a deep sigh, walked hunched to the kitchen, and emptied the liquid into the sink. She stood beside the counter for some time. Eventually, she crossed the room to the window, and parted the curtains a little. A royal blue sky hung over the woods, and Venus shone out, all alone. Coombe’s Woods was deep in shadow, and Izzy spotted a pair of red eyes staring up. She’d won a new stalker. Great.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
Feathers stood waiting on her threshold, smelling of roses and wearing a worried expression. “Connor told me,” he said.
“Want to see?” Izzy stepped to the side, numb, and then followed him to the living room, but didn’t enter.
“That’s disgusting.” Feathers stepped back from the window.
“It’s Sidi,” Izzy said for the doorway.
Feathers frowned and shrugged his shoulders. “Who?”
“Poppy’s new puppy.”
His eyes bulged and he slapped a hand to his mouth.
“You’re fucking kidding me?”
Izzy shook her head and looked across at the bloody smear.
“Have you called the police yet?” he asked.
“Why bother? Besides, they already have enough reasons to find him.” She came into the room, and sat on the sofa. “There’s no point to all this anyway. He’ll be told to stay away from me, maybe get a few months in prison. Then he’ll bounce back, a psycho yo-yo.”
“He can’t keep doing it.”
“He will. You don’t understand. I figured it out. I’ve been sat here all afternoon, and this mess is all I’ve thought about. The conclusion I came to is that I insulted him by leaving. And the only way to end this is with one of us dying.” She pulled another tissue from the box.
“Well that’s not going to happen anytime soon, so you’d better give the police all the information you can. It might make a difference.”
Feathers joined Izzy on the sofa, and tried to put a hand on her knee. She twitched, and his hand fall off to the side.
“Lives can end at any time,” she muttered, and got off the sofa. “I have to go and feed some cats. I’ll see you later.”
“Why don’t you fast-walk? It’ll be much safer.” Feathers got up and followed her.
“I’m not confident enough, I’d rather drive.” She picked up her keys and walked to the door.
“I’ll come with you,” Feathers said. “I’ll just tell Connor, he’s at mine.”
“Fine, Connor can stay with you. But I’m going alone.”
“Stop, would you,” Feathers said, grabbing her arm. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. If you think George is out there, I’ll come along. No problem, he might not attack if someone’s with you.”
“Just leave me alone. I’ve had a shitty day, and I want to be by myself.”
Izzy shrugged off his grip, threw the door open, and started down the stairs before Feathers could argue.
She turned back as he followed onto the landing and said, “Leave me alone,” making sure her voice came across with a tone of finality.
She heard him slam her door shut, and then go back into his flat. Fine, she thought. Stay there.
24
The first three sittings were all in Upper Basildon. She raced into each house and dumped food into the dishes, leaving the cleaning for tomorrow, and raced back out. Her last appointment was located on the other side of Cedham, in a little cottage three roads away from the opposite end of Coombe’s Wood. A little old lady named Clara lived there. Clara took frequent bus tours. She’d gone to Normandy for the week, and needed Izzy to take care of little Tinker. Elderly cats were usually a pleasure, and Tinker was no exception. The cat made a beeline for Izzy’s feet, flopping over them as she speed-washed the bowls and put fresh food down. After serving the food, Izzy slowed. She cleaned the cat litter, scooping leisurely. Then swept the wood floor for stray granules. Inside, behind Clara’s locked doors, she was safe from George.
Izzy lingered a while, longer than usual, stoking and cuddling the old cat. But eventually, even Tinker got bored with the fuss being made of her, and went to purr her way through the last of her meal.
With a stretch and a nervous yawn, Izzy left the little cottage.
She’d almost passed Coombe Lane, when headlights came up fast up behind. There was no time to find out whether the speedster was George. She spun the steering wheel and screeched around the corner, then sped away into the woods.
Heavy clouds and the dense canopy above made the darkness thicker. The only light in the woods was that from the headlights of her car. Behind her, the world disappeared into a solid black mass. She slammed her fist against the steering wheel in frustration. Then her rear view mirror blazed alight. He’d turned in.
She sped around the curves, over and into the potholes. She bounced around under her seatbelt, not watching the road so much. But George couldn’t quite catch up, and his headlights stayed a few car lengths back.
At the approximate centre of the woods, Izzy slammed on the brakes. Her car skidded to a halt, blocking the lane. She managed to stop it at an angle, the front tipping down into the bushes. She turned everything except for the headlights off, jumped out of the Toyota and stepped onto the lane. George raced towards her, his headlights highlighting her against the woods. She shielded her eyes, and waited. He didn’t slow as he approached. She suddenly thought he might intend to crush her between their two cars, and she leapt to one side. The other car screeched to a halt inches from her car’s bumper.
“Bloody bitch!” He climbed out screaming. “What the hell kind of driving do you call that?”
He was still several yards away, but closing the distance with long strides. “I don’t know how stupid people like you get licences. You should have been locked away in a home for idiots, then you couldn’t have come along and ruined my life!” His trousers snagged a bramble, and she took the opportunity. Nervous, stumbling, she began to fast-walk around to the back of him.
“I have never been stupid, and it was you that came and found me. I didn’t ask for an arsehole, but somehow I ended up opening up my home, my life and everything to you!” she screamed. “You ruin everything you touch, you always did, and you always will. Do the world a favour and cut your own throat.”
George spun round, tearing the bramble from his trousers and catching a finger on the thorns. He gasped, and stared behind. He blinked once, twice, but she’d moved back into the shadows. She could see his confusion. She enjoyed it.
He half-turned back, searching for her. Izzy positioned herself in front of him once more, framed by the lights of his car.
“You have no idea how many times I dreamed you wouldn’t come home from one of your late night drink-ups. My fantasy was that you’d pick on some big guy in that demeaning way of yours, and he would take you out back and beat you to death. I thought it would be a fitting end for you. I dreamed the police would find you crushed in some alley. Those were good dreams.”
George lunged. Izzy closed her eyes and fast-walked back to her car.
“I wish you had died in your mother’s womb.” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “You made me want to die. That time you strangled me; you choked me to the brink of nothingness. I found out then, there’s no greater purpose for us, just a turning out of the lights. I wish there were something else. I wish you could rot in hell for the rest of eternity.”
George spun around again.
“What the hell are you doing, playing with mirrors?” He lashed out with his arms, striking into the forest. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“Your time’s up, George.” Izzy put a foot forward. “Your ticket is here, time to say goodbye.” She fast-walked away into the woods.
“What the fuck’re you on about? I always said you were insane. Look at you now.” George stood fixed to the spot. He swivelled to the rear, and then turned again, squinting into the dark woods to see where she’d gone.
“Coo-ee George, I’m over here. If you want me, you’re going to have to catch me. And you can’t even see me, can you?”
George took a step into the trees. He looked back at his car, as if he was changing his mind.
“I never loved you,” Izzy went on. “Christ, far from it! You forced your way into my house. I never wanted you there. There’s never been anything appealing about you – you were too ignorant for a start. You’re an uneducated oaf.”
George shoved his way forward, a snarl on his face. “I will get you.” He stomped through the bushes, as if ready to pulp her. “Your mirrors will run out, and there’s no one out here to save you.” He laughed, a sickening sound. “Little whore, come here and let me show you how it works. I’ll make it less painful if you come to me now.”
He patted the side of his leg, as if she were an obedient dog. He whistled. Not long ago, she’d have come to heel. No point begging for a bigger beating. Today, she skirted him, fast-walked to her car, reached in through the open window, and switched off the headlights.
“What the fuck you do that for, you stupid bitch?” George crashed about in the woods. She couldn’t see either, but had the security of a car beside her, and she stood there for a moment, adjusting to the dark. By looking for him on the periphery of her vision, she could make out a bulky shape that was George trying to get back to his car. She fast-walked to the other side of him and closed in. His clothes reeked of sweat.
“Wrong way,” she whispered in his ear, and raced back to the car. George swung blindly into the woods, and connected with a tree. He cradled an arm and doubled up for a second. She took the chance, and opened his car door. He had left his keys in the ignition. She’d hoped, prayed for this. She took them out and locked the doors. Yellow lights flashed once, and with all her strength, she lobbed the keys into the woods.
“Get away from my car,” George shouted. He picked his way through the woods, and back to the lane.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
George tried the door. “Where are my keys, you bitch?” he yelled.
Izzy stood on one side of his car, while he swayed on the other.
“Wait until I catch you, you’re going to think you died and went to hell.”
“Catch me?”
She danced from one end of the car to the other. A shaft of light bounced off the clouds and made it’s way though the canopy covering the lane. Her imagination grew wings and horns on George. This man still terrified her. Before he could dash around the car, she ran into the woods again.
“You’ll never catch me,” Izzy called as she receded into the darkness.
“Want to bet.” He followed. “No more mirrors, Izzy. Just you and me, talking together.” He felt his way slowly, like a blind man.
“You should eat more carrots,” she said, plunging deeper.
“Where are my keys? I want my fucking keys.” The anger in his voice was being replaced by something else. Panic, and maybe fear. She’d made him frightened. She liked the idea of George being afraid.
“What keys?” She looked about, searching through the trees. Nervous, she skirted George again. She wanted him further from the road. A large tree loomed out of the dark, Izzy slid behind the trunk and waited.
“What the hell are you doing now?” George roared, yards away. “And what the fuck’d you throw on me?”
Izzy peaked around the trunk of the tree. He was little more than shadow, his hands flailing about as he wiped something from his shirt.
“Christ, this stuff fucking stinks
…
it’s like fucking swamp water!”