Chapter Thirty

It was weird seeing Astrid fly through the air, and in spite of everything that happened later, the sight remained vivid in my memory: the way she held her hands in front of her as she took off from her bike, as if she was about to do a racing dive into water, and then the way in which she instinctively curled her body, just as parachute jumpers are trained to do before impact. She didn’t look surprised at all; there was just a small frown on her face, as though she had been given a thorny mathematical problem to solve. Even after she hit the road, and her body twisted, her limbs splayed awkwardly and her cheek smashed into the tarmac, her expression remained oddly unflustered. It was as though she was still waiting for the thing that had already happened. For one moment, she closed her eyes and lay quite still in the middle of the road, her bike a tangled mess behind her. I could imagine what she would look like dead.

I had been sitting on the front steps with Dario and a mate of his. It was one of those hot evenings that you know will turn into a hot night, and I had half closed my eyes. I was pretending to be in another world while I listened to Dario haggle – if you can haggle in a whisper – with the other man over the price of whatever it was he had in the plastic bag that he thought I hadn’t noticed under his jacket. I knew Astrid was coming round the corner even before I saw her. And there she was, crouching low on her saddle. And there was Peggy Farrell sitting in her parked car, probably listening to the end of some boring programme on the radio, just a few yards from where I was sitting. She caught sight of me and a curious expression crossed her face, half furtive and half beseeching. It made me feel itchy with irritation and I pretended not to see her. She swung open her door. It was a perfect hit. Astrid: like a bird in the air, like a piece of meat on the ground.

Dario and I rushed over, Dario uttering high-pitched shrieks, but Peggy was there before us. She was apologizing away, while Astrid groaned things like ‘Fuck’ and ‘Leave me alone’. Peggy was about to say something to me, but I stared at her as if she was a stranger and her face crumpled. I bent over Astrid, who looked dazed and was going on about her bike while blood trickled down her face. I wanted to pick her up and hold her, but I knew that even when she was injured she would probably resent this or make me feel stupid and clumsy, so I simply asked her how she was. I put on my most sympathetic face, even though I quickly saw it wasn’t serious. She wouldn’t be rushed off to A and E or bed-ridden and helpless for days, just a bit sore. I knew Peggy was staring at me, waiting for me to acknowledge her, but I continued to behave as if she wasn’t there.

Astrid raised herself, ignoring my outstretched hand, and Dario picked up the battered bike. I saw that Peggy was having difficulty getting the bent door of her car shut. She looked at me for help but I let my contempt show on my face. A red flush stained her cheeks and she looked old and foolish. I turned my back on her and put an arm very carefully round Astrid. She didn’t push me away. She leaned on me. Her hair brushed against my cheek and her blood was on my new white shirt. I could smell her sweat and her shampoo. Dario’s druggie friend walked past us and raised a hand in greeting, and Dario muttered something under his breath.

‘Who’s that?’ asked Astrid.

‘Nobody,’ said Dario. ‘How’s your head?’ Then he threw me a furious glance and started going on about how he and I had been sitting on the steps together when she’d had her accident. So Astrid didn’t know that Dario dealt drugs, which meant that probably no one else in the house did either.

We stumbled towards the house, Dario with the bike, me with Astrid, both of us calling out for Miles, who appeared at the front door. To see the stricken expression on his face, you’d have thought I was carrying Astrid’s corpse. But anyway, we bundled her inside and she was swept up amid exclamations of horror, and I was left standing by the open door with the bike, feeling pissed off with everyone for taking over like that. I tried to hang the bike up on the hook but it was buckled and wouldn’t fit. Pippa came downstairs just as I was saying something about the bike needing some work on it and told me it was Astrid who needed looking after, not the bike, before waltzing off down the stairs with the others to look after the invalid, leaving me on my own. The tightness in my chest increased and I felt the familiar buzzing behind my eyes. Then I saw Peggy coming up the steps.

‘David,’ she said.

‘What?’ I couldn’t be bothered to be polite to her. But instead of looking flustered and embarrassed, as she would normally have done, her chin went up and her expression became stubborn. ‘I need to speak to you.’

‘I don’t have the time,’ I said, and was about to shut the door on her, but she put a hand out and stopped it.

‘I said I need to talk to you.’

From downstairs came the sound of laughter. I looked at Peggy and said, ‘What’s this about?’

‘The other day,’ she said. ‘In my house.’

So she’d seen me take her money. My headache intensified. I felt oppressed and hemmed in, and I grabbed her by the arm and said, ‘Not out here. Come in.’ I pulled her through the door and steered her into Miles’s room, where we wouldn’t be heard, shutting the door behind us.

‘You should have asked me, if you needed money,’ she said.

‘I don’t know what you’re going on about.’

‘I thought you liked my company,’ she said. ‘Stupid of me.’

I told myself to be charming. I tried to speak, but her face, all hurt and spiteful, swam in front of me.

‘You’ve taken money before, haven’t you?’ She didn’t wait for an answer but went on: ‘My husband will think I’m so stupid when I tell him about it, which I’ve decided I must do. He’ll think it serves me right.’

She was going on and on and on about it. I just wanted to shut her up, the gabby, interfering busybody. It was all her fault. Thinking I was the son she’d never had, thinking I found her attractive, thinking I wanted to sit in her dreary little kitchen making eyes at her, believing that was all I was good for and that my life was as petty and wretched as hers. What had she expected would happen? What had she hoped for? What? My grip tightened.

There was still a red mist in front of my eyes and a roaring in my head, but at least her voice had stopped. At least she was limp and I could take my hands away from her throat and lay her on the floor where she gazed up at me, her purple face and glassy eyes, her mouth half open so I could see the fillings in her teeth. Her skirt had ridden up and I bent down to tug it back over her knees.

I heard panting, like the sound made by a thirsty dog, and I realized it was coming from me. I was shivering, almost shaking. I sat down on Miles’s bed and made myself take deep breaths. I had to keep calm. I had to think clearly. I was in Miles’s room and at any moment he might walk in. But if I dragged Peggy’s body out into the hall any of them could come across me. I glanced around: the large cupboards. That was it, I had to put her in there until I had a chance to get rid of the body properly.

Now that I had a plan, I felt quite strong and steady. I could feel the ache in my head receding, like wisps of fog being blown away. Other people would collapse and panic if they found themselves in a situation like this, but I could do it. I opened the cupboard door and pushed the piles of towels and sheets out of the way. I put my hands under Peggy’s armpits and started to drag her across the floor. She was heavy, as if death had climbed into her body and was squatting there. Her shoe caught on the floorboards and spun off. Her head lolled. The most difficult bit was getting her into the cupboard. I had to push her in from behind and her limbs got caught in the doorway and her skirt acted as friction, making her hard to slide. But eventually I did it. I pulled the towels and sheets over her, although even a quick glance would show there was something bulky underneath.