A Thousand Small Explosions (25 page)

CHAPTER 77

CHRISTOPHER

Amy wound her arm around Christopher’s as they plodded along the bleak, pebbled beach.

              The grey skies, howling wind, drizzle and encroaching tide didn’t put her off suggesting a long walk along Southwold beach back towards Aldeburgh, so they donned their thick jumpers and covered up with matching blue raincoats they’d purchased from a shop in town.

              They passed a paddock by the side of the path with three large, black horses sheltering behind a gate under a tree. Christopher remembered when he was a teenager he unlocked a similar paddock gate by the side of a busy road, just to see what might happen. He sat by a ditch on the opposite side and didn’t have to wait long as the Travellers’ horses in the field bolted to freedom. It was the second one to escape that collided with a VW Beetle, its head crashing through the driver’s side of the windscreen killing both of them instantly. Ever since, he held a soft spot for horses.

              ‘Shall we go somewhere for a coffee and warm up?’ Amy asked and Christopher nodded his head sharply. He despised being cold and he loathed going for long hikes. Unless they had a dog on a lead or a specific destination to reach, he didn’t see the point of just going for a walk. But he enjoyed spending time with Amy, and as being outdoors appeared to make her happy, it gave him an equal satisfaction.

              They made their way along the beach, past the brightly painted chalets, up a concrete ramp and along a high street framed by clothing boutiques, galleries and fish and chip shops, before choosing a cosy looking café.

A young woman with wet hair and an irked expression pedalled furiously on an oversized bike to escape the drizzle, and for a split second, Christopher pondered how she might look if he pushed her under a passing car. He used to fantasise about that kind of thing frequently as he travelled on the London Underground escalators. He’d look at the opposite side of the moving staircase and play “fuck” or “kill” with anonymous female faces and it almost always resulted in more kills than fucks. However, Christopher hadn’t felt motivated to play since he’d met Amy.

Once inside the café, they sat by the radiator, draped their wet cagoules across it and waited for a member of staff to take their order.

              ‘I know you’re a posh city boy at heart, but this isn’t too bad is it?’ asked Amy, glancing outside the window as the drizzle turned into a downpour and lashed against the glass. ‘Well, apart from the weather.’

              ‘No, it’s nice,’ Christopher replied, and meant it. He couldn’t have given two hoots about the town, but he was appreciating her company.

‘It’s good to get out of London sometimes just to get your head together.’

Christopher knew precisely what she meant, although when she’d suggested taking their first weekend away together in her parents’ static holiday home by the coast, he felt something akin to anxiety. Because with just seven women left on his list before he reached his goal of thirty, he didn’t need further distractions. Distractions meant mistakes and he’d already risked losing sight of the endgame by falling into a relationship. But his desire to spend an undistracted long weekend away with Amy was greater than his need to reach his target.

Christopher had contemplated finishing prematurely after Number Twenty-Three. At that point, he’d have still accomplished what he’d set out to do, sending a city of seven million into panic and generating news headlines worldwide. The killings and the faceless madman behind them had fascinated everyone. “What were his motives?” they asked. “How was he targeting them?” “Was there a pattern to where they lived?” “What was the significance behind the stencil mark left on pavements outside their homes?”

Christopher was the only person able to answer each question and on occasion it stymied him not to be able to do so or to take any credit for it. However, that was the sacrifice that needed to be made for his crimes to become a thing of legend.

              ‘Can I ask you a question, Chris?’ Amy asked as their whipped cream lattes were placed on the table. She appeared a little nervous.

              ‘Go ahead,’ Christopher replied as he arranged the mugs symmetrically. ‘What’s on your mind?’

              ‘Nothing really,’ she replied and placed her hand upon his as reassurance. ‘Well, I just need to know – and I hate to be that person who brings this kind of topic up – but where do you see us going? Am I ‘it’ for you? Do you want to settle down with me and do what every other couple does? I know we’re Matched but is that enough for you? Because if that’s what you want, you’ve not actually told me. I know you’re a bit different to the other guys I’ve been in relationships with, I get that, but sometimes I find you so hard to read.’

Christopher frowned. ‘What do you mean by “different”?’

‘Well, you play your cards pretty close to your chest, don’t you? It’s like there are things going on under the surface that you keep from me and once upon a time, with other boyfriends, that would have been excuse enough for me to have walked away. I mean, I’m a police officer for God’s sake. It’s my job to be suspicious even with my nearest and dearest but with you, it’s… it’s different. It’s like whatever you are not telling me doesn’t really matter. It isn’t something that’s going to change my opinion of you, no matter what. It’s hard to explain but rather than making me feel insecure, it has the opposite effect - it makes me trust you more. I trust you to have your secrets and that they won’t hurt me.’

Christopher felt a sudden urge to strip away the layers he’d spent years building and explain everything about who he was and what he’d been doing. He wanted her to know that while people had loved him in the past, he had never known how to accept it until now; how before Amy appeared he was merely living to type; but now the dark side of his nature that had formed so much of who he was, was diluting. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to be completely honest and vulnerable for someone.

He paused and closed his eyes, opening his mouth for the big reveal. But self-preservation prevented his voice from coming out. He reminded himself that if he gave up on his mission now, then for the rest of his life, it would become his only regret. A tiny portion of him would resent Amy for coming between him and his killings and gradually that rancour would grow from a seed into a tree that would eventually block out the light that shone from her. And it scared him what he might want to do to her if he ever felt himself begrudging her.

‘I want everything that you want,’ he said quietly, and meant it.

Then he stared at the table, afraid to look her in the eye in case she could see straight through him and realise the man she loved had no soul.

CHAPTER 78

BETHANY

With just two days remaining until she began the next leg of her Australian adventure, Bethany was no longer as keen to leave Kevin’s family farm as she had been.

Mark’s kiss had changed everything and ignited something between them. After loyalty and common decency had initially kept them apart, they had given in to their emotions and were making up for lost time by stealing as many moments as they could when nobody was looking. Bethany would accompany Mark to town to pick up supplies and hold his hand on the gearstick; their arms would brush up against each other’s at the dining table and she’d assist him in herding the cows into the sheds before fixing them up to the milking machinery. Every minute spent with Mark made Bethany’s heart want to beat its way out of her chest.

He became an addiction she didn’t want to be free of. And the more she had of him, the more she craved. As she packed her suitcase and prepared herself for her forthcoming solo journey around Australia, the need to be with Mark was the strongest it had ever been. She felt short of breath when she thought of what the next five weeks might feel like without him nearby and an ever-growing part of her wanted to stay on the farm.

Then on her final night, their kisses, hand-holding and infrequent frissons were no longer enough for Bethany. She slipped the silver band from her wedding finger and left it on the bedside table, then closed the door to the guesthouse and silently padded into the main house and towards Mark’s bedroom. Her hands felt clammy as she reached for the handle and she prayed to God he wasn’t going to reject her advances. But his door was already ajar and when she pushed it open she found him lying awake and facing her, like he’d been expecting her to come.

Mark pulled the sheet to one side to invite her in.

*

‘Come with me tomorrow,’ Bethany whispered in his ear, her body exhausted and her lungs close to breathless.

‘I can’t, it’s too complicated.’

‘Don’t you think I know that? I was the one who married your brother.’

‘And I’m the one who’s just screwed his wife.’

‘Thanks for putting it in such a pleasant way,’ she replied, pushing herself away from him, disappointed by his crass terminology.

‘I’m sorry, it’s not what I meant.’

‘It is and you’re right but you and I know there’s something here that’s bigger than both of us. Or am I the only one feeling it?’

‘You know you aren’t.’

‘Then why not come with me? It doesn’t have to be tomorrow, it could be in a week or a fortnight’s time. Just tell your parents you need to get away from here to clear your head. Give us some time together on our own to figure out what this is.’

‘Bethany, I’m needed here.’

‘And I need you.’

‘I can’t do that to my family or to Kevin’s memory. How can I tell people who came to his funeral two weeks ago that I’m in love with my sister-in-law?’

Kevin’s use of the word “love” made Bethany blush and her body felt like it was burning up. ‘But if I feel the same, how can it be so wrong?’ she asked.

Mark shook his head apologetically, threw it back against his pillow and stared up at the ceiling, as if waiting for divine intervention to tell him what to do next. When it failed to arrive, a frustrated Bethany suddenly felt awkward and very naked. Rejected and frustrated, she slipped her T-shirt and underwear back on and opened the door to go back to her room.

Her eyes widened when she saw Mark’s mother Susan standing in the corridor, glaring at them both in turn, her face a mixture of fury and disappointment.

CHAPTER 79

NICK

Nick’s appetite had all but disappeared.

Each time he tried to fill his empty, rumbling stomach and consume a pre-packaged snack from his hotel minibar, he felt like bringing it back up again. So instead, he stuck to his diet of cigarettes, chewing gum and bottles of flavoured water.

Nick’s initial reaction to discovering he was to become a father to Sally’s baby was to shy away from the world and check himself in the central Birmingham hotel room where he’d stayed when he and Sally first separated. Unlike Alex’s apartment that was littered with their possessions, cases and luggage, Nick hoped his judgement wouldn’t be clouded by an anonymous room. It would be a blank canvas in which he could sit and think, and make an informed decision on what to do next.

Hour upon hour of silence and solitude followed as he stood facing the ninth storey window, taking in the city’s diverse skyline. But the most important discovery he’d made was figuring out that removing four screws would disable the safety catches that prevented the window from opening fully. The first two he held in the palm of his hand and he assumed the remaining two would be just as easy to turn with the teaspoon. It was a solution that would put a stop to him being everyone’s problem, he reasoned, albeit a drastic one.

Nick chose not to respond to any of Alex’s text messages that afternoon. He didn’t know how to tell that him that instead of waiting for his passport to be renewed, he’d actually spent the morning with his ex-girlfriend trying to come to terms with the fact that he’d be a father in under four months’ time. As the tone of Alex’s unanswered texts became more and more concerned, phone calls and voicemails followed before Nick switched his device off.

A gentle breeze drifted though the window and reached Nick’s face but he didn’t register it. Instead he recalled how he’d wanted children but Sally hadn’t been so sure. Eventually they reached a compromise and agreed that a couple of years after they married, they would let nature take its course and see what happened. But a drunken night on a city break to Bruges saw them throwing caution to the wind and now they were being forced to deal with the aftershock.

‘I’m not telling you I’m pregnant because I want us to get back together, nor to split you and him up,’ Sally had been at pains to point out, and he believed her. ‘I’m not even expecting you to have any role in its life either financially or emotionally, you just deserved to know.’

Nick was pragmatic in his approach and worked through each viable way he could play a part in his child’s life and still remain with Alex. He figured he could still emigrate to New Zealand and with flight prices falling year-on-year, he might be able to afford a return trip to the UK twice annually. The rest of the time, he could watch his child growing up via FaceTime or Skype. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it was what thousands of armed services parents stationed countries apart from their children did. And Sally might also bring their child over to visit.

It was too big an ask of Alex to remain in London as he needed to be with his sick father as he saw out his final days and Nick knew that if the shoe had been on the other foot, he would’ve put his family’s needs before his own too.

They were other ways around the problem, but all of them ended with the same result. Nick would be a bit part player in his child’s life and that would never be enough for him. If he was to be a father, he wanted an active role in raising their child.

But a worrying thought began to creep into his mind and frightened him. What if he resented the child for coming between him and his Match? What if every time he looked into its eyes, they would reflect the emptiness of his own? Nick shuddered.

              And the thought of not being able to see his soul mate for an indefinite period of time made Nick’s body ache. Not being able to laugh with him, be responsible for his gawky grin when he walked into a room, or hear him breathe as he slept made Nick feel physically sick. And if he felt like this while they were still in the same city, what would it be like once they were a world apart? Nick knew deep in the marrow of his bones that it would be too much to bear. Trying to come up with one answer to suit everyone was like trying to push the tide back into the ocean with a broom.

He swallowed hard and then glared at the remaining two screws in the window’s safety catches and closed his eyes. He had made his decision and there was no going back.