‘So, a bit of adventure for you?’ he shot me a glance, then pointed to his own throat. ‘Forgot, can’t talk. That’s good. I don’t think I could stand all the whining and begging—such a pleasant change. My second wife whined a lot, nag, nag. She died whining, and the funny thing is, I miss her in a way.’ He shot another look at me. My leg still shaking like mad on the clutch, the gear crunching as I attempted to get into fourth. Would have liked to have told him I had failed my driving tests three times, and the last two in an automatic; served him right if we crashed.
‘I miss her smell. God knows how much that stuff cost–left here,’ he pointed. ‘I’ve got a dog now, Maggie, a Rottweiler, and it’s a much better domestic arrangement. No nagging, no bleeding me dry. Did she think I didn’t know about her and the slick arsehole at the gym?’ another look. ‘I hope I’m not boring you… take that right, nearly there. Won’t keep you waiting for long,’ he said with a grunt. ‘And just so you know, I will finish the job. I have a reputation to uphold. Your heroics have been wasted. My only regret is you are a freebie. Still, never mind, needs must.’
We turned into a residential area where the houses stood like monuments to the well-off, large, detached homes with drives having bigger footprints than my dad’s terrace. Cherry trees in early blossom lined the road. To the right, cliffs overlooked a choppy sea. In the distance, I could see the Felixstowe port. Above, inky clouds moved across the sky. The rain got heavier, and I flicked the wipers on.
‘Drive into the car park,’ he instructed, with a glance over his shoulder while pointing ahead. I went to park, selecting a bay nearest the roadside.
‘No. Further up. Ignore the sign and go around past the bays.’ Another glance behind.
I obeyed, even though a sign warned, ‘No cars beyond this point.’ I drove until he suddenly shouted to stop. I’d got closer than he intended to the edge of the cliff. Suppose I should have worn my driving glasses.
I stopped on the grass tilted toward the edge of the cliff, a few metres away. Despite the wipers cleaning the rain every second, the screen filled again, blurring the view as the rain got heavier. At that moment, it occurred to me he would push me and the vehicle over the cliff. I was not proud of it, but I wet myself. The warm liquid ran between my thighs to the seat. And if I had a voice, I might have begged him not to kill me. I couldn’t move. My heartbeat had elevated, and I was fighting back the sickness threatening to overwhelm me.
He got out of the car. This was it. My eyes followed his progress as his tall figure walked around to the driver’s side, pausing for another check around, oblivious to the rain pouring down on him. He opened my door.
‘Get out.’
Okay, he would not push the car over. Didn’t blame him. It was only two years old. It would have been a waste. I struggled to get out, my skirt soaked and the smell drifting to my nose. My legs just wouldn’t work. And I hated myself. How dare I get embarrassed? Why should I give a shit what he thought? Too slow to leave the car, he grabbed my stitched-up arm to drag me out. I groaned in pain, losing a shoe as he pulled me from the vehicle, then with another check over his shoulder, yanked me to the edge of the cliff.
The rain hitting us full-on; we stood about half a metre from the edge. I could hear the sea crashing on the rocks below, the squawks of the gulls in the air. And the beat of my heart in my ears.
‘Sorry about this, darling. Nothing personal.’
Blinking the rain away, I looked into his eyes. He wasn’t sorry at all. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I would have liked to have told him it wasn’t because I was frightened, though I was. He was squeezing my arm so hard the blood oozed through the dressing and trickled over his fingers.
I wasn’t sure what happened next. The car behind us rolled forward. Suppose I should have put the parking brake on. As he looked back, I kicked him hard in the leg with the heel of the one shoe I was still wearing. With a cry, he let go of me, his eyes mesmerised by the car coming towards us. I threw myself out of the way. Falling on the wet grass, my fingers grabbing at the ground to prevent myself from sliding towards the edge of the cliff.
He left it a bit late, frozen for a second, before letting out a yell. The car pushed him over the edge. His arms and legs frayed out as the vehicle floated over the top in an almost elegant dance. He and the car gone.
For several seconds I wasn’t sure I was alive. And I was too scared to move, my feet just inches away from the edge, my entire body trembled. And I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t trust myself to stand.
My first attempt at getting to my feet failed. I slipped on the wet grass, and my legs were too weak to hold me. I was forced to drag myself forward on my belly until I was sure I could get up without sliding to my death. I was tempted to amble to the cliff edge and peer over. Reassure myself he was dead. I didn’t. Looking around, I kicked off the remaining shoe and headed towards the posh houses, hoping I could get help. I was desperately trying to stiffen the sobs erupting from my throat. The
