Hopefully, tonight will be the night when I finally get some good news. Hopefully, tonight will be the night when I can prove my innocence to my wife.
And hopefully, tonight will be the night when Alexandra’s little game is over.
40
ALEXANDRA
I sometimes get frustrated with how slow my days can be when I’m waiting for my methods to work and for my client to confirm that I have successfully broken up a marriage. But today is not one of those days. That’s because the sun has been shining over South London, and I took the chance to get out and enjoy it, spending a lovely afternoon on Clapham Common with a good book and a bottle of wine. I was feeling a little tipsy when it came time to stand up and walk home but fortunately, my flat isn’t far from the common, so I didn’t have too much distance to cover before I made it to the comfort of my living room sofa. That is where I am parked now with my feet up on my coffee table and the TV playing a film in front of me.
It’s eight in the evening, and I am winding down, just like the day is. I expect I will be in bed within the hour, an early night for sure, but I could use the sleep. It could be any day when I get the word that Rebecca and Sam’s marriage is over, and that will mean I get paid before I begin this whole process all over again.
Find a new client. Lay some new traps. Break some more hearts.
And make plenty more money.
At least an early night was the plan anyway. But that idea was shattered by the fire alarm in my complex sounding, ruining the peace and causing me to get up from my comfortable position to go and look for my shoes.
‘Damn it,’ I mutter under my breath as I put on some suitable footwear before grabbing my jacket and heading for the door.
I know it’s not a drill because the building manager would never do a drill at this time of night, but I’m hoping that it’s just a mistake and there isn’t really a fire somewhere in this building now. If there is then it could be a while before I am allowed back into my flat, and that would be annoying.
It’s not that I have much in here that I’d be afraid to lose in a fire.
I just really want to have that early night.
Unlocking my door, I step out into the corridor and see a couple of my neighbours leaving their homes, looking just as confused and irritated about this whole thing as I am. I’ve never made much of an effort to be friendly with the people who live in the flats next to me, and that is perhaps why none of them say hello to me or ask me how I have been as we all head for the staircase and start descending down.
I can’t see or smell any smoke, so that has to be a good sign, but I carry on going downstairs and go outside to the front of the building to join my neighbours at the designated meeting point where we are all to wait until the fire brigade get here and give us more information. I assume those fire engines are on their way towards us right now because they are supposed to get an automatic notice from the security company who manages this building whenever an alarm sounds. But it will take some time for them to arrive, and all there is to do until then is cross my arms and try and stay warm until I go back inside.
It was warm earlier when the sun was beaming down on the common, but it’s chilly now that it has disappeared behind all these buildings and plunged London into darkness. I’m just glad I managed to get my jacket on before leaving the flat. I can see at least two people out here in their pyjamas.
As me and the rest of the displaced residents continue to find out whether or not their address is at risk of burning to the ground, the alarm continues to blare, and it’s giving me a headache, so I could do with a distraction. I reach into my pocket for my phone, but it isn’t there and I realise I must have left it in my flat in the rush to leave. That’s annoying but it’s hardly as if my phone was going to give me much entertainment anyway. I’d like to say that I would have several unread messages waiting for me from all my family and friends to show how popular I am, but there will be nothing as usual. That’s my own fault because I’ve purposefully withdrawn myself from all the people who I used to know in my former life, which is how I refer to the time when I wasn’t going around the country ruining people’s relationships. Moving to Clapham was a big step for me because I’m originally from the North of England and knew nobody in London, which was precisely why I chose it. It has helped me out professionally because I don’t have to worry about telling anyone I know what I actually do for a job, but it’s not been much good for me when it comes to receiving messages. The only messages I receive these days are from clients giving me updates and while that’s good for business, it’s not great for my social life.
I’m all alone down here, or at least I am if you don’t count the people standing near me in their pyjamas. That means there isn’t much to occupy
