LITMIR.BIZ

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‘You can do it,’ he urged. ‘You are strong enough.’

      But Rebecca wasn’t feeling especially strong now. Her heart was thudding so hard that it felt like her ribcage might shatter under the pressure, but her mind was still disassociated, observing her own actions as if watching a character on TV.

      Of course she wasn’t actually going to go through with it. She was still just play-acting, getting an idea of how it would feel to approach Stephen’s home, to really be about to kill someone…

      Thud, thud, thud… Rebecca watched her own hand close around the door handle. Click. The door was unlocked, just as Stephen had promised. Silently, she let herself into the hall, starting as something came towards her through the darkness.

      For a split second, she froze, every muscle tensed, each nerve tingling. Then she relaxed, releasing the breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. It was only Bwbach. The old dog, recognising her from previous visits, ambled forwards to greet her, tail wagging, delighted to have some company in the quiet of the night.

      As the dog nuzzled her hand, for a few seconds Rebecca stood motionless, listening for any noises from upstairs. Nothing.

      Softly, she edged down the hall, remembering all those other times she’d been there before with Stephen, barely managing to get through the front door before ripping one another’s clothes off, desire getting the better of caution in this Neighbourhood Watch community. How different it all felt tonight, alone in the unfamiliar darkness, an intruder rather than a guest.

      Creeping into the kitchen, she made her way to the knife block on the counter. Even though it was pitch black, she knew exactly where to find it, of course. She’d watched Stephen numerous times as he ran his fingers over the knife handles, weighing up which one to choose before pulling out the knife he’d want them to use in bed. This time too he’d made the selection for her, sending her a text with instructions to pick out the biggest knife, the one with the 8-inch blade they’d used so many times before during sex. The knife felt familiar as Rebecca held it loosely in her hand. Better the devil you know, and all that, she thought…

      Jaspal Marsh tossed fitfully in the double bed she shared with her husband. Though it was late, she just couldn’t sleep. That evening, she’d tried her best to relax, talking to a relative on the phone, vegging out on the sofa in front of Big Brother, but still she couldn’t shake off a vague sense of unease.

      It wasn’t to do with being alone in the house. Really, Stephen was out so much these days, she ought to be used to being on her own by now. And if the two of them were ever to split up, this was something she was going to have to accustom herself to.

      Thinking she might have heard something downstairs, Jaspal lay very still, listening intently. Then she relaxed as she recognised the rhythmic thud of Bwbach’s tail hitting the wall. The old dog must be dreaming of chasing rabbits or something. She’d been worried for a moment, though. Honestly, the next time Stephen told her to leave the door unlocked, she was just going to refuse. It just put her on edge and it wasn’t fair. Why should she be the one to lose sleep just because he was out enjoying himself? Next time she’d lock it and he could just sleep outside on the doorstep for all she cared.

      Thud, thud, thud! Rebecca’s heart sounded so loudly in her ears, she was sure Stephen’s wife would be able to hear it. She still couldn’t quite believe it was her, creeping up the stairs in someone else’s house, knife in hand. Surely it was a scene out of a low-budget horror film, not real life – certainly not her life. Soon, any second now, she’d wake up from whatever trance she was in and stop what she was doing, horrified at how far she’d gone. She imagined the relief of finding herself outside that house, not caught red-handed breaking into someone else’s home, not a potential murderess, just plain Rebecca Harris who’d almost let things get out of hand but had come to her senses just in time.

      All of a sudden, the mobile phone she’d been carrying along with the knife lit up. A message: from Stephen, of course.

      ‘Do it. Just do it!’ read the text.

      She had her instructions.

      This time Jaspal was sure there had been a noise but she didn’t have time to think about it before the door to the bedroom inched open. If she had been expecting a balaclava-clad burglar then she was very wrong. The person peering uncertainly into the dark bedroom was a young woman. She had something in her hand, something long and thin that glinted where it caught the shaft of moonlight seeping in through the drawn curtains.

      Jaspal knew she didn’t have much time. If she stayed where she was, she’d be attacked in bed. All she had going for her now was the element of surprise.

      ‘Aaaaaargh!’

      Jumping up from the bed, she flew at the intruder, screaming at the top of her lungs.

      Rebecca was terrified. She’d been expecting to find a sleeping victim, but instead here was this shrieking banshee tearing at her skin and clothes, pushing her backwards against the chest of drawers. Without pausing to think, she lunged forward with the knife, again and again and again…

      ‘It’s not me,’ she kept thinking to herself as she felt the other woman grow weaker and then slump to the ground, the knife still buried up to its hilt in her chest. ‘This isn’t me doing this, it’s someone else. This nightmare is happening to someone else.’

      She just caught a glimpse of Jaspal Marsh’s glassy, staring eyes before she raced headlong down the stairs, thoughts of her son and Stephen jostling through her head.

      Flinging open the front door, she ignored Bwbach’s reproachful whine as she fled without a goodbye pat, gulping in the fresh night air. Back in the car and speeding away from the house, she felt a mixture of dread and fear and exhilaration. At one level she knew she’d done something so monumental that her life would never be the same again, but on another level, she was just so glad to be free of that house, with its suffocating darkness, where spectres came flying out of nowhere, scratching at your clothes and pulling at your hair.

      Her fingers were still trembling from the adrenaline and the fear when she typed out a message to her lover, using their pre-agreed code to let him know it was all done.

      ‘She screamed and fought – I’m shaking so much.’

      Rebecca wanted reassurance. She wanted to know Stephen was pleased with her, that all she’d been through and all she’d risked had been worth it because it had won her his approval and his love. She wasn’t disappointed.

      From his friend’s house, where he’d sat up playing computer games after coming back from the pub, making sure his alibi stuck, Stephen Marsh sent her a congratulatory text message: ‘You’re a star,’ he wrote. ‘I love you.’

      In the master bedroom at 25 Howard’s Way, where Jaspal Marsh lay immobile in a pool of blood on the floor, her mobile phone beeped unheard. There was a message coming in, adding to the already crowded inbox.

      ‘Can’t believe you haven’t called me,’ Stephen Marsh had written. ‘Love you.’

      The following morning, Rebecca was still shaking, although in her mind, she was already distancing herself from what she’d done. Up by six in the morning, she’d completed three loads of washing by the time her husband woke up, but she still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being unclean, soiled.

      ‘Everything will be OK now,’ she told herself firmly, lighting yet another cigarette, although normally she rarely smoked. ‘Stephen and I will be together. I’ve done everything he asked; I’ve proved myself to him.’

      She kept thinking of the message he’d sent her. He’d be so proud of her for putting their future first. She couldn’t wait to see him. Everything would fall into place as soon as they were together again.

      But when she drove to pick him up for work as they’d arranged, it was a different story. Rather than throwing his arms around her and comforting her, as she’d hoped

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