As I apply foundation to my cheeks, I think about what would happen if Mum hadn’t decided that we needed to kill Jimmy. Would she have insisted that I go through with sleeping with him in order to keep our secret safe? Possibly. But would I have been able to do it?
I’m glad I don’t have to find out.
I have never slept with a guy before, and because I have never brought one home or mentioned the existence of a boyfriend, Mum must also know that I am still inexperienced when it comes to what Jimmy wants me to do. Maybe that’s why she jumped to the conclusion that he had to be killed. However it has happened, the plan has been made, and the clock is counting down on Jimmy’s time on Earth. He has no idea though, and most likely presumes that he will be able to keep on taking whatever he desires from us for as long as he wants. But that is not the case.
Jimmy will be dead by the time the sun has set tomorrow, and I cannot wait to see it.
I also can’t wait to get out of here and go to university. I think there’s been enough death and destruction in one place to last a lifetime. What I need is a fresh start, away from here, where I can put the memory of Rupert and Jimmy to bed and move on. But I do worry about what will happen to Mum when I am gone. How will she handle being alone in this house? How will she cope with her dark thoughts without another person to confide in?
How will she resist the temptation to drink herself into oblivion without me to interrupt her boozy sessions in the kitchen every night?
I know she was up late yesterday drinking downstairs again. I heard the sound of a glass smash just after eleven, and when I went down to check that everything was okay, I found her on the floor, cleaning up the mess with tears streaming down her face. She tried to cover up her emotions when she saw me, but it had been too late for that and I had insisted she leave the broken glass and join me on the sofa in the living room. It had been there where she had really let her emotions pour out, sobbing into my shoulder as she called herself the worst mum in the world, while saying that she feared she had ruined my life with her actions.
While it had been a surprise to see her in such a vulnerable state, I had done my best to comfort her while telling her that she had been the best parent I could have had. I told her that none of what happened was her fault and that I didn’t love her any less for what I had seen her do for me over the last week with Rupert and Jimmy. It took a while, but she eventually stopped crying, so my words must have made her feel a little better. Then she blamed her outpouring of emotion on all the wine she had drunk, which, to be fair, was rather a lot, before I told her to get herself upstairs to bed while I cleaned up in the kitchen.
It might have seemed a strange role-reversal between mother and child for me to be the one putting her to bed after having too much to drink, but then I guess it’s been a while since we had an entirely normal relationship. I doubt there are many mums and daughters who hide bodies and plan to kill again out there in the world.
If there are, then the planet is even more fucked up than I thought it was.
Mum apologised to me this morning for her behaviour the night before and even vowed to give up drinking from now on, but I told her that she didn’t need to make any promises to me. I will always love her no matter what, and I think she sees that, which must be of great comfort to her. Her biggest fear, besides the police coming through the front door with handcuffs for her, must be that her actions are going to have a detrimental effect on how I become as I grow older, forever changing the woman that I was destined to be. She probably fears that me seeing my parent deal with a dead body so effectively is setting me up to want to be able to do the same when I am her age.
Isn’t that what all mothers worry about? Being a good role model for their child?
But Mum doesn’t have to worry about that. As role models go, I couldn’t have wished for a better one. She’s perfect, and I’m so lucky to have her.
I’m the luckiest daughter in the world.
35
HEATHER
Jimmy is due at our house in two minutes.
In anticipation of the arrival of our guest, Chloe and I have made the necessary preparations. She has made herself presentable for the man who desires her. And I have got a small kitchen knife safely hidden away to stab him with.
With a bit of luck, Jimmy will get here on time in two minutes, and he will be dead in five.
‘Are you nervous?’
Chloe’s question is asked in a quiet voice, almost as if she is afraid that Jimmy might be outside the house right now listening in on us. But I know he isn’t because I’m standing by the window with a good view out onto the street.
He’s nowhere to be seen.
Yet.
‘Yeah,’ I reply, deciding that there is no point with false bravado. ‘You?’
Chloe nods.
‘But it’s going to be okay,’
