The Chosen Ones. G Sanders D
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Outside, I swap the balaclava for a baseball cap, leave the building and circle the block before heading back to the centre of Dover for a pizza. At a corner table, I check her things. The phone’s switched on. I open the dating app. There’s the meet with me, or rather my second fake profile, but no other dates. The same is true of her texts: nothing since our last meeting except the exchange earlier this evening. No complications there. I open her diary. It’s schoolgirl writing, easy to copy. I get her name and signature from the bank card, noticing she’d used her real name on the dating app. After a few practice attempts, copying the writing from the diary until I’m fluent, I write a short note.
Need a break. Sorry for short notice. Back in two weeks. Kayleigh Robson.
All’s going to plan. I pay the bill with cash and step into the street.
It’s still early and I’m not ready to confront Kayleigh just yet. There’s a pub next to the pizzeria. I drink a couple of pints while leafing through her diary. God, I thought my life was bad but hers – no friends, just occasional guys from the dating app. Some have hung around long enough to cop a shag, but none has lasted beyond a third date. What a life. Well, things have changed, Kayleigh Robson, you’re going to have my company for a week or two. I won’t be able to remove my mask, but I hope you come to see my worth and enjoy my company.
On the way back to Maxton House, I push the note under the door of the corner shop. The flat’s still silent. Kayleigh’s spread-eagled on her back just as I left her. In our struggle, her skirt has bunched around her waist. I don’t want her to be embarrassed when she comes round, so I lean over the bed and ease the skirt down to cover her thighs. My fingers brush her skin. It’s cold.
Panicking, I feel her wrist and neck. No pulse – nothing!
What the fuck!
Kayleigh’s dead.
It was late afternoon. Ed had just got back to her apartment when her personal mobile buzzed with a message from Daniel. His rugby friendly had finished and he was waiting for her in the bar of a large hotel on the High Street. The County was the last place Ed wanted to meet him, but she didn’t want to raise questions by suggesting he move somewhere else. Instead, she called him back.
‘Hi, Daniel, I’ve just got home and I’m about to take a shower.’
Ed paused for a response, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
‘If you don’t get ideas, you could come here and we’ll have that drink at my place before going out to eat.’
‘If that works for you. Where are you?’
Ed gave him her address and then added, ‘Give me fifteen minutes.’ She was just stepping into the shower when the phone rang again. With a curse, she dashed into her bedroom to answer it.
‘Hi, Ed, I know it’s short notice, but I was wondering if you fancied a drink?’
It was her friend Verity Shaw, who edited the local newspaper. ‘Hi, Verity, a drink sounds good but I’ve got something on this evening. How about next Friday?’
‘Next Friday would be good. I’ll look forward to catching up.’
‘Me too. Sorry, but I’ve got to dash. Bye.’
‘Until next week. Bye.’
Back under the shower, Ed wondered if she’d have time to blow-dry her hair.
Daniel arrived with flowers and a sports bag, which he dropped in the hall. Neither of them mentioned it when it was time to leave for the restaurant. The bag remained where Daniel had left it until late Sunday evening when he returned to Maidstone.
‘Are you sure it’s above board?’ asked Rachael.
Ostensibly to say goodbye, her boss had looked into the room at the back of the dental practice where Gina Hamilton was collecting her things. The holiday had been a surprise and Rachael was obviously curious.
‘Of course. It’s organized by Tuscan Sun Tours. I was sent their brochure. They’re an ABTA tour company. I’ve even checked the travel agents in the High Street. They’ve got the same brochure with my holiday in it. A week in Orvieto and then Siena.’
Gina closed her locker, anxious to get home. She was looking forward to an early night before starting her holiday. Rachael, nosey as usual, wouldn’t be deflected.
‘What about your ticket?’
‘I rang the tour company to confirm the flight number and check-in times at Gatwick. They had my name on their list for the tour. We’ll be in Siena when they have that horse race, the Palio, and a seat in the stands was included as a special option. I’ve wanted to go ever since a guy at university described seeing it.’
‘Sounds like you’ll have a great time. Be careful of those Italian men.’ Rachael smiled. ‘We’re going to miss you.’
‘It’s only a fortnight. Sorry I wasn’t able to give you more notice.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve lined up a locum.’
Gina bent to pick up her bag and turned to leave but Rachael stood between her and the door.
‘By the way, you never said – how did you win it?’
‘Last month I got one of those circulars through the door: a competition linked to a new singles club. They organize groups for dinner parties, trips to the theatre, weekends away – that sort of thing. I had to write twenty words saying why I would value membership and send my answer with a request for further details. Actually, that reminds me – not that I’m interested – I won the holiday but I still haven’t received details of the club.’
‘It sounds like a great holiday. Lucky you!’ Rachael stepped aside. ‘I’ll not keep you. I expect you want to pack and get an early night. Have a wonderful time.’
‘Thanks. See you in a fortnight.’
Gina took the stairs down to the front entrance and stepped into the street. At the ATM in the High Street, she introduced her card, tapped in her PIN and selected cash with receipt. Gina was impatient. Every time she entered or left the practice, her eyes were drawn to the much-polished brass plate by the door. It still read Metcalffe and Metcalffe, Dental Practice followed by Morris Metcalffe, Rachael Metcalffe and, on a newer strip of brass, Georgina Hamilton. How long before a new plate read Metcalffe, Metcalffe and Hamilton? Bleeping from the ATM interrupted Gina’s thoughts. She retrieved her card, folded the cash into her purse together with the receipt, and doubled back down Guildhall for the 15-minute walk home.
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