Killer Couples - Tammy Cohen

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threat. But she knew who Rebecca Harris was. She even had her number logged in her phone. It was under ‘B’ for ‘bitch’.

      The knot of tension in Rebecca Harris’ stomach was physical, palpable. It weighed her down, sapping her strength, getting in the way of eating and sleeping. Stephen was still not giving up on this murder plan; it was all he ever talked about these days. It was as if he’d casually pushed a cannonball over the top of a hill and now it was thundering down, gaining momentum all the time, and she had no idea how she could stop it.

      ‘It’s OK,’ she kept telling herself. ‘He’ll change his mind at the last minute. And even if he doesn’t, I’ll just tell him I’m not doing it. There’s still plenty of time to get out of this.’

      If only she could just shift that knot in her stomach, so that she could get a proper night’s sleep for once.

      ‘It’s all sorted. Everything’s set up.’ Stephen’s eyes were unnaturally bright, his body practically crackling with nervous energy.

      Rebecca felt a dull thud of fear somewhere deep inside her. ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered.

      Stephen could hardly contain himself. It was as though someone or something else had taken him over. ‘July 28th. It’s a Friday night and I know Jaz is going to be at home. We’ve both got that work do and then I’m going to make sure I’ve got an alibi straight afterwards. I’ll get Jas to leave the door open. You go into the bedroom and stab her in her sleep. It’ll be so straightforward – you won’t even see her.’

      Now the mass in Rebecca’s stomach had expanded until it filled her head, pressing down on her brain.

      ‘I can’t, Steve,’ she faltered.

      But then he was clutching her hands tight, his eyes boring into hers. ‘Don’t you love me, babe?’ he was saying. ‘Think of our future, you and me together. Do it for us! Don’t you want us to be together?’

      Of course she did. It was what she wanted more than anything else in the world. He was the first thing she thought about when she woke up and the last thing on her mind before she dropped off to sleep. But how could he ask her to do that, to risk everything?

      But Stephen could tell she was wavering and so he stepped up the pressure, barraging her with calls and texts, painting a picture of the fantastic future they’d have once she was divorced from Ron and Jaspal was gone for good. He knew where Rebecca’s weakness was – her little boy, and he shamelessly played on that.

      ‘I’d bring him up like he was my own,’ he told her, in a phone call. ‘We’d be a proper family.’

      For Rebecca Harris, who dreamed of starting afresh, this time with a match made for love, rather than for security, this was exactly what she’d been hoping for. They’d be together, all three of them, and her son would have the kind of lifestyle she’d never be able to give him on her own, or if Stephen divorced his wife.

      And if she had any lingering thoughts about telling Stephen she’d changed her mind, his next statement soon chased them out of her head. ‘If you don’t do this, I’ll know you don’t really love me,’ he warned her. ‘Then we’re finished.’

      Rebecca didn’t know if she’d want to go on living without Stephen in her life. It was as though he’d got into her skin, as if he ran in her very blood. She’d be a non-person without him, the walking dead.

      ‘I’ll do anything for you,’ she told him, wretchedly.

      28 July 2006 was a Friday and also payday, and the staff at the 118 118 call centre were in a celebratory mood as they gathered after work in a city centre bar. Well, all except Stephen Marsh and Rebecca Harris.

      The couple were standing away from the rest of the group and talking animatedly in low voices. By now, the other employees were all used to seeing Stephen and Rebecca whispering together. They were both married to other people but you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to work out what was going on between them. Usually there was a lot of flirtatious banter with those two, but tonight both seemed preoccupied with something. Stephen was doing a lot of talking, and Rebecca looked paler than normal, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well.

      ‘I can’t believe she let me down!’ Stephen was ranting about his former mistress, Natalie Yemm. He’d asked her if he could stay the night at her place and at first she’d said yes. Even though he’d ended their relationship the previous October when he started seeing Rebecca, they’d stayed friendly – but now she was saying she’d had second thoughts, just when he needed her most.

      ‘Pick up the phone, for God’s sake!’ he muttered under his breath as he dialled her mobile yet again, trying to persuade her to change her mind. But there was no reply. Nor was she responding to any of his texts.

      For the first time, Rebecca allowed herself a small surge of hope. Without an alibi for Stephen, they’d have to abort the whole plan. Sure, he’d be angry for a bit, but after a few drinks here with all their mates, he’d calm down. Maybe he’d even have reconsidered the whole thing by the next morning.

      But even now he was scrolling through the contacts book on his mobile phone. Next on his list of potential alibis was Julie Owens, yet another ex-lover. And when that also proved fruitless, he approached a male friend of his. Bingo!

      ‘We’re on!’ he told Rebecca, excitedly.

      The leaden mass in her stomach swelled until it was everywhere, pressing down on every part of her, leaving her unable to think, unable to breathe.

      ‘There’s still time to change my mind,’ she told herself. ‘I can still pull out any time I like.’

      As their co-workers began to disperse, Stephen and Rebecca found themselves outside the bar.

      ‘Just do this, and tomorrow we could be starting a new life together,’ Stephen urged, pressing his mistress’s hand tightly.

      Rebecca could hardly speak. Now, the feeling of nausea that had been slowly building over the evening was threatening to overwhelm her and something strange was happening to her brain. It was as though she could register what Stephen was saying to her but it wasn’t quite going in. She felt removed from reality; as though she was sitting apart from herself, but watching herself go through the motions of living and breathing.

      Settling in behind the steering wheel of her Mazda, she could see her hand turn the ignition key, and she dutifully looked in the mirror before pulling out, but it still felt like someone else was doing all those things, someone separate. And it was that same separate person who turned the car away from her normal route home to Clos Rhedyn in Cwmrhydyceirw, Morriston, and towards Gorseinon. She was just going to drive past the house, she told herself; she wasn’t actually going to do anything.

      In the Potters Wheel Pub in Swansea, Stephen’s friend Andy was getting fed up. Why had Stephen made such a big fuss about meeting up tonight and asked to stay over if all he was going to do was sit there, sending text messages? He’d already sent several to one number.

      Right now he was sending one to his wife. As his fingers punched the letters on his keypad, Stephen’s face bore an expression of intense concentration mixed with something else. Excitement? Anticipation? Dread?

      He was having a drink with a friend, he told her, but would be home later. ‘Just leave the front door open and I’ll get a lift home. Love you. xxx’.

      Of course, what she didn’t know was that by failing to lock the front door from the inside as she normally did, Jaspal was effectively signing her own death warrant.

      Rebecca Harris swung the Mazda into Howard’s Way, Gorseinon. Such a classy neighbourhood, so peaceful and orderly – it would be a great place for a child to grow up, the streets quiet enough to ride bikes or play football safely. Even now, well after midnight, it didn’t feel threatening at all. You just couldn’t imagine anything bad happening in a place like this.

      As

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