times before from salesmen of all kinds.
On the desk the phone was still ringing.
Ellen Reed emerged from the office, slowing her pace when she saw her husband facing her.
‘You fucking bitch,’ he hissed.
‘Just a minute,’ said the salesman, taking a step towards him, his forehead furrowed now.
‘Keep out of this.’ Reed glared at him.
The man took a step back.
The phone continued to ring.
‘What are you playing at?’ Reed snarled at Ellen.
‘This isn’t the time or the place, Frank,’ she told him.
‘I think it is.’
‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir,’ the salesman said as bravely as he could.
‘How could you do it to me, Ellen?’ Reed said, ignoring the man. ‘What did you make Becky say?’
‘I didn’t make her say anything,’ Ellen told him, defiantly.
‘You planned it, didn’t you? Or was it his idea?’ Reed hissed. ‘Mr Jonathan fucking Ward. I knew you were a bitch, but this is a new low, even for you.’
‘I’ve got nothing to say to you, Frank,’ Ellen said, reaching for the phone.
‘And if you don’t mind I’d like to get on with my job.’
‘Fuck the job,’ he roared, sweeping the phone from the desk. ‘This is my life I’m talking about.’
‘I’m going to call the police,’ the salesman told him, seeking refuge behind a car, ‘if you’re not out of here in thirty seconds.’
‘You won’t get away with this, Ellen’ Reed said fists clenched.
‘Get out, Frank,’ she said, her own heart beating that little bit faster now.
‘I know what you’re trying to do.’
Another man appeared from the office behind, a taller, older man dressed in a grey suit. ‘What the hell is going on out here?’ he asked.
‘I told this man I’d phone the police,’ the salesman said.
‘I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work,’ Reed continued, oblivious to the other two men. His attention, and his rage, focused on Ellen.
The taller man hesitated, saw the fury on Reed’s features.
‘Call the police,’ he said to the cowering salesman.
‘Just go, Frank,’ Ellen told him.
‘You won’t take my daughter,’ he said raising an accusatory finger and pointing it in her direction.
‘If you don’t leave immediately we’ll call the police,’ the taller man insisted.
‘YOU WON’T TAKE MY DAUGHTER!’ Reed bellowed, then he turned and headed for the exit, his breath coming in gasps.
‘It’s over, Frank’ Ellen called after him.
‘No it isn’t,’ he shouted back. ‘It’s only just started. I won’t let you take her away from me, Ellen. I’ll kill you before I let you do that.’
And he was gone.
Had he turned, he might have seen the slight, almost imperceptible smile which flickered briefly on Ellen’s lips.
Seventy-three
Cath just caught the lift, calling to the single occupant to hold the doors as she hurried through the main entrance of the block.
She was carrying a bag of shopping in each hand and she didn’t fancy walking up the steps to her flat with such a weight.
The man in the lift lived on the third floor.
She’d seen him occasionally since he moved in three months earlier.
They’d never spoken at any length. Indeed, she couldn’t remember speaking to any of the other residents for more than three or four minutes at a time ever since she’d taken up residence in the block.
Everyone above, below and around her could be dead in their beds for all she knew. The residents didn’t socialise much.
There were two couples about her own age on the floor below who she’d seen together sometimes but, apart from that, contact was limited to polite nods of recognition or perfunctory bouts of conversation in the lifts.
That was the way in London.
And that was the way Cath liked it.
She did manage a warm smile at her fellow lift traveller and received a similar gesture in return, aware of his gaze lingering on her legs, tightly clad in denim.
‘I hate shopping’ the man said, nodding towards the two bulging carriers she’d put down on the floor.
‘Me too,’ Cath said, jabbing button one.
The lift doors slid shut.
‘My girlfriend does all my shopping for me’ the man said, a little too smugly for Cath’s liking.
She glanced at him again, saw him looking at her more intently.
When he noticed she was aware of his admiring glances at her legs and buttocks he did little to disguise the fact: merely smiled to himself.
‘Are you married?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘I’m getting married soon,’ the man told her.
‘Isn’t your girlfriend lucky?’ Cath said, sarcastically.
As the lift bumped to a halt, she picked up her shopping and stepped out.
‘See you around’ he said as the doors slid shut.
‘Not if I see you first’ she whispered under her breath.
Jesus, what a creep.
She reached the door to her flat and put down one of the shopping bags, fumbling in her pocket for her keys.
As she did she leaned against the front door.
It swung open.
Cath stepped back, shocked, her heart suddenly thumping heavily against her chest.
She put down the other shopping bag and stood at the doorway, ears straining to catch any sound from within.
Cath inspected the lock, noticed some small scratches on it. The metal was scored in several places.
She took a step inside.
Go and get help. Go now. Bang on the next-door flat.
She hesitated a moment, then moved another step into the hall.
‘Oh God’ she murmured under her breath.
The pictures which had hung on the wall lay scattered across the carpet. The glass in the frames of two of them was shattered.
A small ornamental table and the plant which it held had also been overturned.
Glass crunched beneath her feet as she advanced towards the sitting room.
What if the intruder was still inside?
She stood motionless.
Get out now.
The flat was silent. She moved on, into the sitting room.
As she looked around, one word flickered in her mind.
Devastation.
