When he left the hospital that evening, Cole wandered the streets in the vague direction of Alice’s house, knowing he would end up in a pub. He checked out local pubs on his phone to avoid going back to the Slug and Lettuce in case the barman remembered him along with the beer mats. Unlikely, but best to be careful.
Soon, Cole drank lager in the Duke of Sandringham pub near Portobello Road. It had a regular closing of 11pm, which suited Cole’s purposes. He sat alone in a corner, with the camera app on his phone set to motion alert.
A few days ago, the boyfriend had packed a suitcase in the bedroom. From what Cole could tell, the boyfriend hadn't returned yet as Alice was the only person who had entered the bedroom over the last two days.
After two more pints, Cole fingered the keys in his pocket, running his finger along the edge of the one to Alice’s house. Several scenarios played out in his head. He questioned his motivation and the risk versus the reward. Would it be worth it? How would Cole measure up? Did he have the bottle?
He picked up his phone, took a quick look around the pub to make sure no-one watched, then played a clip of Alice peeling off her clothes in her bedroom. Yes. She owed him for Daz. A deep ache drove him on, and he replayed the clip several times.
He ordered another lager and while he drank, a flicker from the phone caught his eye. Alice had entered the bedroom. Once more he watched with eager anticipation as she slipped out of her top, jeans and bra, but he pursed his lips as he saw she kept her underwear on. Then she turned out the light reducing the view to a grainy darkness, and Cole struggled to make out Alice climb into the bed.
An hour later, Cole lurked in the shadows near Alice’s house and tapped open the camera app on his phone. No house lights were visible from the street and given the poor quality of the low light recording, Cole had to squint at the grainy image for several minutes before he concluded Alice still slept.
There were no pedestrians on the darkened street. No cars either. Cole knew Alice slept alone in the house. He had a key and he knew the alarm code. All he had to do was walk to the door and let himself in.
His pulse quickened as he reached into his pocket for the key. He took a tentative step from the shadows. Then another. And another. He stood at the gate to Alice’s house and pushed it open. His legs shook, yet his careful footsteps made no sound. The door loomed before him. The key trembled in his tight grip. His hand rose to the latch in slow motion, almost as if someone else controlled it.
He looked left and right. Still no-one. The trembling in his fingers increased. He tried to insert the key into the lock, but the shaking wouldn't stop. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It made no difference. The keys slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground with a clatter that echoed on the silent street.
58
Alice tossed and turned in the warm night air. Sleep came and went. She threw off the sheet and lay on the bed. Her pillow was damp. The house creaked and ticked. She listened. The little hairs on her neck stood up. A chill ran through her. A strange noise sounded from outside. Her breathing increased. The more she listened the more she heard. The loneliness fed her imagination.
She told herself the alarm was on. People often walked by on the street outside, so sounds were normal. The house creaked as it cooled down from the heat stored during the day. She reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. Her hand groped around until it closed on the can of mace. Its cold presence in her grip reassured her and when she put it under the pillow, her breathing eased a little.
59
Cole stooped and grabbed the keys. He legged across the road and retreated into the shadows where he bent over and puked the bilious contents of his stomach onto the concrete.
Two hours later, Cole shut the door to his flat with a loud disregard for the time. He stripped down to his shorts and stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
His reflection in the mirror scorned him. “Loser,” he said to the mirror. “You wimped out. Lost your bottle.” He grabbed the wash basin with both hands and pulled at it. It didn't budge, so he pushed and pulled with all his strength. Still it defied him.
With no clear thoughts in his mind, he got into his bed. He tossed and turned in the darkness. He kicked off the duvet and then pulled it back over himself when he grew cold. Shortly after, he was too hot. Sleep evaded him. Images of Alice in her room, naked and vulnerable filled his head. He fed the need to see her by watching video clips of her on his phone. The full frontal where she stretched at the camera was his favourite, and he wished he had a way to satisfy his impulse besides his own hand.
Nobody knew he had attempted to enter her house, which meant he would have another opportunity to use the key. But he would only get one shot at it, and he’d have to make it count.
He’d need to get a weapon, maybe a knife. A big, intimidating one with a jagged edge. He’d take something to help him see it through. There were drugs that helped. News reports
