Читать книгу Deceit: A gripping, gritty crime thriller that will have you hooked - Kerry Barnes - Страница 9

The journey home was mind-numbing. The bus was full, with only standing room, and Kara found herself hanging on to the pole for dear life. The bug was making her weak and the constant nauseous feeling was wearing her down. The bus arrived at her stop just in time before she collapsed and that was enough to force her to take a seat on the nearest wall.

The icy air from this morning had gone, yet the sky was still dark and gloomy, and it was only six o’clock. It just about summed up her own mood. After a few deep breaths, she headed home along the cherry-tree-lined road into her close. Mr Langley was retrieving his groceries from the boot of his car and only nodded out of politeness when she said ‘hello’. Still, the Langleys were nice enough, keeping themselves to themselves, like the others in the close.

As soon as she noticed only her car was in the drive and not Justin’s, she felt a sudden emptiness because he was working late at his car dealership business. Again.

They had met at her twenty-first birthday party lavishly laid on by her mother, Joan. Justin had turned up with Lucas Lane, her mother’s friend’s son, whom she’d known for years. She remembered feeling butterflies as soon as she laid eyes on him. His mousy waves with streaks of blond tumbled neatly around his ears, framing his carefully sculptured face. He was tall with a perfectly proportioned physique. She guessed he was into sports from his muscular broad shoulders, probably a rugby player, she mused, but then his face was flawless, without the cauliflower ears, which suggested maybe he was into football instead.

That summer it was hot, and his golden tan set off his light blue eyes. When the party was in full swing, all she remembered was him and his shy glances. Lottie, her friend from her boarding school days, nudged her arm. ‘Cor, he is real hot totty.’ She chuckled. Yet Kara didn’t need to be told – it was obvious – and she wasn’t the only one eyeing him up. There was an enchanting awkwardness about him; he was confident, laughing with the lads, but when his eyes diverted to her, he seemed almost coy.

Lucas Lane was eager to show him off; it was obvious he was a popular lad among his male friends. A couple of the other boys were patting his back and clinking glasses, whilst listening to him telling a story. They seemed to be hanging on his every word. She could only assume he was pretty outgoing and possibly adventurous with wild tales of trekking through the Himalayas. Her heart did a backflip when he approached her to wish her a happy birthday, and to her surprise, he even brought along a gift: a small teddy, with twenty-one embroidered on it. That teddy still sat on her bedside table.

Kara hurried inside, hung her coat up on the coatstand, and went straight to the kitchen. She would cook him a nice meal, his favourite – chilli con carne – and hopefully he would sit at the table and talk. That’s all she wanted – for him to talk to her. A few weeks ago, when she called Justin at work and said, ‘I have chilli on the stove,’ he’d replied, ‘Something hot in the kitchen and something hot on the stove, eh? I’ll be home in a jiffy.’

His deep husky voice, to her, just oozed sex, and she could listen to him all night; it was as good as any foreplay. Her eyes swam with tears. The onions weren’t even out of the fridge when the torrent of tears flowed like Angel Falls. She’d been on the verge of crying for weeks. Justin hadn’t actually done or said anything wrong; it was the distance that had come between them and it had happened almost overnight. She thought at first it was her, but then, as the days went on, he seemed miles away, quiet and aloof.

She asked him a few times if he was okay, but he snapped back at her, telling her to stop fussing. She told herself it would blow over and their relationship – perfect in her eyes – would get back to normal. Romantic meals for two, bubble baths together, and a shared bottle of wine in front of the open fire would all return. Yet, the days were now turning into weeks, and she felt her heart being ripped away from her.

Kara sighed and continued preparing the food. Once the chilli was simmering, she went upstairs to have a quick shower and redo her make-up; perhaps she had become a little dowdy and unattractive. The main bathroom was huge with a bath that would easily accommodate two people and a walk-in shower area much like a wet room. The full-length mirror screwed to the far end was surrounded by spotlights, so even a stray hair or a tiny spot could be seen.

Kara stepped out of her clothes, and for a second, she didn’t recognise herself. Perhaps she’d let herself go. Her clothes were certainly tighter; she would have to renew her gym membership and spruce herself up. Justin was fit and his body was rippled with muscles. Another tear fell. She took a step closer and peered at her face. Her blonde hair needed a trim or a restyle; it was just long and flat. The usual shine had disappeared, and she had to admit to herself, she didn’t look in the best shape at all. Her skin was not smooth and glowing; her face appeared pale and spiteful.

Perhaps that was it; maybe he wasn’t attracted to her like before. At only twenty-six years old, she should look fresh and vibrant. Maybe it was her secret tears and all the worry that were souring her face, or the virus bringing her down. The bed sheets had been dry for over a month now, and he hadn’t so much as touched her. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. The shower was hot, and she had to turn it down a notch, submersing herself under the champagne-setting flow. Standing for a while, she allowed the water to tickle her back and massage her throbbing head.

She must get back to how she was before: toned, fresh, and attractive. Not that she fancied herself as anything special, but Justin did. He told her she was an even prettier version of Jennifer Aniston, and he wasn’t the only one: a few people had said she was a lookalike. He always complimented her; in fact, he treated her as if she were the only woman alive. The problem was he hadn’t lately, though.

Hearing the sound of the front door shutting loudly, her heart fluttered; he was home. She almost slipped over in the shower, trying to get out. She wanted to get dressed and apply a few layers of make-up, add her expensive perfume, and slip on her new floral print dress. He had bought it for her when they went to Harrods. She had to win him back. It was absurd that she was thinking she had lost him, but it was how she was beginning to feel, and if she dared even to think for a moment he was seeing someone else, she would feel sick. That notion was unbearable.

He didn’t call up to her with one of his captivating comments like, ‘Do you need a back scrubber?’ or ‘Do you need company in that bath?’ She shook, putting her mascara on, knowing this was the time she would demand to know what was going on. She planned the words over and over in her head. She even thought of lowering her pride by begging him to go back to the way things were, with a holiday, or perhaps spicing up their sex life.

He wasn’t in the kitchen, when she eventually wandered downstairs. He was in the snug, the smallest room where they went to read, where the bookshelves displayed an array of books from fiction to medical publications. In the corner was a desk and a computer to catch up on work at home. A three-piece suite softened the room and made it more homely than an office.

She peered in with a false smile on her face, when inside she was dying. ‘Well, hello, sexy.’ She tried to sound upbeat, but it was not reciprocated with his usual smile that lit up his face. He was staring down at his phone, and then he peered up with an expression she’d never seen before. It resembled a deep sorrow that dragged his eyes down.

She tilted her head to the side. ‘Please, Justin, tell me what’s wrong? I can’t bear this tension, this … I don’t even know what it is, but it’s hurting me. You have changed so much towards me. I mean, I hardly recognise you … Look, if I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. Put me out of this misery.’ Her eyes filled with salty tears and she let them hang there and build up, before they finally fell in streams. She made no sound but just stared, longing for him to run to her, throw his arms around her, and tell her he loved her.

He didn’t; instead, he looked away, and in a meek voice, he said, ‘I’m just tired and overworked. Please, stop fussing.’

She turned to walk away and hesitated, glancing one more time over her shoulder, to find him still staring at his phone. Her pain was tainted by so much frustration that she wanted to run back and shake him. Couldn’t he see how much it was killing her?

With a heavy heart, she dished up the chilli con carne and carried the two plates into the dining room. Her hands were shaking as she lit the candle. He joined her, sitting opposite, but really, he wasn’t himself. She watched him struggling to force the food down. Then, exasperation got the better of her. She slammed her knife and fork down on the solid oak table, making him jump. ‘Justin, I can’t take this anymore. What the hell’s going on? You won’t talk, and now you can’t even eat. This isn’t fair. Tell me now! What is wrong?’ she shrieked.

Justin pushed his plate forward, clasped his hands together, and leaned his elbows on the table. She searched his eyes for answers, all the while feeling overanxious and thwarted with pending grief. Her heart was racing and her breathing shallow, as if she were awaiting the death penalty. This wasn’t Justin, not her Justin, with the beaming white-teeth smiles and a face full of fun, spouting his jokes at every opportunity. The easy-going, sweet man who worked hard, loved hard, and cared for everyone, most of all her, seemed to be inwardly broken. She didn’t recognise his sober expression or the dull look in his otherwise vibrant ocean-coloured eyes that once danced like the waves.

‘I, er, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I can’t carry on deceiving you. Kara, I’m so sorry …’ he replied, choking on his words.

‘What, tell me what’s going on? Please, we can work things out. Nothing is ever that bad.’ Her voice was on the point of hysteria.

He shook his head and looked down in shame. ‘Oh Jesus, Kara, there’s no easy way to say it … I’m leaving you.’

The words took a few seconds to digest. She couldn’t believe he’d just said them. Now stunned, she stared, shaking her head. ‘No, no, Justin, please don’t tell me you’re leaving me! Why? Why?’ She pleaded with him for an answer.

He looked up, his face drenched in guilt. ‘Oh, Kara, you deserve the truth, but I know it will hurt you so much. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you, but I can’t put it off any longer … I never meant to hurt you, I swear, and for the record, I do love you, I always have, more than anyone, but I have to end our relationship … I did something stupid …’

Kara guessed he had met someone else and couldn’t stand to hear those words, knowing it would destroy her. No one was more important in her life than Justin. He was her world, her rock, and her love. ‘Please, Justin, it doesn’t matter, don’t tell me. We can work it out. I’ll forgive you. Just don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.’ Her mouth felt like it was chewing a hundred cotton-wool balls and her legs were like mushy peas.

Justin’s bottom lip quivered, and then he placed his face in his hands. Kara was by his side with her arms around him. ‘It’s okay, we’ll be fine, we can work this out, I’ll forgive you. Just don’t say any more. We can put whatever it is behind us … Come on, don’t get upset. It’s okay, I promise.’ She’d never seen him cry before. It was guilt, she thought, but it didn’t matter. They would sort it out. She would forgive him for anything right now, as long as he didn’t leave her.

To her surprise, he pushed her away. ‘Stop it, Kara! Just stop it, will you! I can’t stay, I won’t stay, and you have to let me go!’

Stunned, Kara stepped back, and looked at the love of her life, with his wet red cheeks. It was strange. All she could say, in a whisper, was ‘Why?’

He grabbed the serviette from the table and wiped his face, before he took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got a woman pregnant, so I have no choice.’

Kara threw her hands to her mouth in horror. No, he can’t have. He wouldn’t do that. This was a nightmare … She would wake up and it would all be a bad dream.

‘Look, tell her to get an abortion, tell her … I don’t know, Justin, but please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you.’

Kara was dancing on his conscience and he couldn’t deal with it. ‘Shut up! Just shut up. I’m leaving and that’s it. Please stop, Kara. I’ve made my decision and it’s final.’

Kara ran back to him, throwing her arms around his neck. ‘Please don’t, Justin, I’m begging you!’ She could feel her heart being ripped to shreds, not in half so that she could fix it together, but in strands of lonely pieces that could never be whole again. Staring with begging eyes at the only man she’d ever loved, and for him to coldly look away, hurt like nothing on earth.

She slumped to the floor in agonising grief. In that single moment, her chest was crushed by heartache, knowing that this battle to hold on to their relationship would be fought alone. His cold eyes told her everything she needed to know – he didn’t want her anymore, he wanted someone else. She curled in a ball and rocked, too distraught even to make a crying sound. Unable to ease her pain for fear of giving her false hope, he left the room and headed upstairs to pack.

The avalanche of grief mixed with furious frustration turned her self-pity to a burning anger. She gasped as the cold realisation hit her: he didn’t even care enough to stay and work things out. Every nerve in her body was now on fire. She jumped up, screaming, as she snatched the plates and hurled them at the wall. The beautiful cream plaster mouldings were now covered in chilli, which was sliding down the Italian fresco wallpaper.

Her temper increased, and she ran up the stairs after him, shrieking, ‘How could you do this to me? How could you be so cold and heartless? You fucking two-timing bastard!’ Shocked by her own actions and even by the pitch in her voice, she threw her hands to her mouth and glared wide-eyed.

The suitcase was open, and he was carefully filling it with freshly ironed shirts and trousers. He wouldn’t even look at her; it was as if she were a ghost. In a fit of fury, she grabbed the case and tossed it on the floor. ‘How could you, how could you?’ she cried.

Without a word, he held both her arms, before she tore into anything else, and gently pushed her out of the room and closed the door behind her. She had never shown such heartbreaking emotion. Her pleading, distraught expression mixed with that vile anger in her voice had turned her into an unrecognisable stranger.

Kara knew then that no matter how much she screamed, cried, or even begged, he was still going to leave. And he did – half an hour later.

The emptiness was like hell on earth, left with just thoughts of him and another woman. The misguided notion that he was totally besotted with her, only to find out he was sleeping with someone else, was the ultimate in deceit. He had taken away her perfect world in one fell swoop. The house that was once alive with love and passion was now a cold shell filled with memories that had ripped her heart out.

Every time she looked at a photo, a piece of jewellery, the furniture, the clothes – everything that was in the house, in fact – it all reminded her of him. How was she going to cope? The gut-wrenching pain was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. What did she have now, but a big empty void and a bleak future?

Sitting in the dining room for hours in a daze, she finally heard a bird tweeting. As she pulled back the curtains, the sun almost blinded her. She hadn’t been to sleep at all. Every muscle ached, and her legs were numb from sitting. She clung on to the idea that maybe once he was away, he would realise what he was missing, and would return soon with a bag of apologies.

Too grieved to talk to anyone, she pulled the phone from the socket and struggled to the bedroom. As she opened the door and saw the small teddy on the bedside table, she retreated to a spare room and drew the curtains. Too exhausted to do anything but sleep, she lay on the bed and dragged the purple quilted throw over her legs. But as she closed her eyes to blot out the world, his face was there, with that sorrowful look.

Eventually, she drifted off and was tossing and turning, only to wake up with nightmares before drifting off again. At four o’clock in the afternoon, she sat bolt upright remembering the trip to Denmark. She would have to get her bags packed, but unexpectedly, her stomach was burning, ready to expel its contents. Crouched on the cold tiled floor and hanging on to the toilet, the vomit rose once more, and she almost choked. Her throat was alight with acid and her lips burned. All she brought up was bile because her stomach was empty.

After she washed her face and forced herself to clean her teeth, she wandered still in a daze back to the bedroom to get dressed. Her skin felt sensitive, and so she slipped into one of her soft lined tracksuits that hung sloppily off her shoulder. Justin liked her in her Sloppy Joes, as he called them; he said she could wear a black sack and still look gorgeous, but maybe it had all been a lie. She looked once more in the bathroom mirror and noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the red eyelids, and sallow skin. No wonder he ran to the arms of someone else. She looked a mess, and yet he didn’t; his boyish broad smile and the twinkle in his round eyes were just the same – ageless.

The dining table had been cleaned and the crap that was up the wall was all washed down. Her heart skipped a beat. He was back. Perhaps he’d made a mistake. Quickly, she ran to the kitchen, expecting to find him, but only to have her heart ripped away from her again. A slim woman, with dark hair scraped back into a ponytail, wearing no make-up and sporting a piercing through her nose, stood with her rubber gloves on ready to start on the cleaning.

It was Angie, her cleaner of three years, who, in all honesty, Kara knew nothing about, except she worked hard, was reliable and trustworthy, and lived on the estate. Justin had taken her on when he read an ad in the local newsagent’s window. Angie was eager to earn money on the side, just to have decent food in the cupboard. Her rent had gone up and she could barely cover the cost of living. If it wasn’t for her brother Rocky, bunging her a few quid each week, she would have starved to death, but the cash-in-hand cleaning job paid the heating bill and allowed her to get her nails done or to have a night out once a month with the girls.

‘Hey, are you okay, Kara? I saw you asleep in one of the spare rooms. I tried to be quiet … Had a row, did ya?’ she asked, totally lacking any sensitivity.

Kara wasn’t expecting to see Angie and was not in the mood to talk. She needed time and space to figure it all out for herself. ‘No, I’m not well. Sorry, Angie, would you excuse me, please?’

Angie nodded. ‘Yeah, sure.’ She waited for Kara to leave, before she mumbled under her breath, ‘Snotty bitch.’

Angie didn’t really care one way or the other. As far as she was concerned, Kara and Justin were a professional working couple too busy to clean up their own shit, so they paid her to do it. They also paid well, so that was that. As she saw it, Kara was just a geek with her nose constantly in a book, too aloof to sit and have a cup of tea and a chat with her.

She cleaned two houses in the close and the owners were all the same – too preoccupied with their own lives to stop and share a piece of cake or even notice her there. She could not wait to get back home on the estate where at least there was friendly banter.

Angie was still washing down the kitchen, when Kara returned, in need of a cold glass of water, fighting off another wave of sickness that had engulfed her. If she didn’t get her act together soon, she would miss the taxi.

‘Kara, tell me to mind me own business, but do you need a doctor? ’Cos, I swear, you look bleedin’ rough, girl.’

‘No, I’ve just caught a bug, that’s all,’ she replied, holding back tears.

Angie didn’t ask any more questions. She removed her rubber gloves and sighed. ‘All done, I’ll be back tomorrow, for me wages.’ Her fake smile faded, and she hurried out of the room, finally slamming the door behind her, making Kara jump.

Shaking with pain and fear, Kara opened a drawer and pulled out two twenty-pound notes and placed them on the side. She knew she wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with anyone without bursting into tears. When Angie returned, her money would be there, ready. She had to pull herself together somehow.

How could she go to Denmark in this state? She stared at the phone. She had to call in sick, but she could not bring herself to make the call straightaway. She was at the point where she couldn’t handle another argument. In fact, she couldn’t cope with anything, all her thoughts now consumed with grief over Justin leaving, and there was no way this wretched feeling of despair would leave her any time soon.

She pulled down the white case with the red cross and flipped open the lid; there, at the back, was a packet of cigarettes. She’d given up two years ago but now had an urge to smoke the lot followed by a bottle of brandy. Then she spotted the bottle of sleeping tablets. She grabbed it and nervously popped four pills into her hand. That would do it. Like a horse tranquilizer, that should knock her out. At least those tiny tablets would ensure some respite from the emotional pain.

She threw them to the back of her throat, filled a glass with iced water from the fridge, and gulped them down, gagging at the bitter taste. Almost instantaneously, she felt overcome with fatigue and staggered off to the bedroom. Her mind went back to her work and the trip. Five minutes’ rest and I will call Roger and let him know I can’t make it.

She had not realised he would have left the labs by now.

In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of a car hooting outside, but her vision was blurred, and her body wouldn’t move. She ignored it, sank back into a deeper slumber, and slept for what she thought was just eight hours.

By the time she’d woken up, it was early in the morning, but she had absolutely no idea of the actual time or even which day it was. She strolled into the bedroom and looked inside Justin’s wardrobe for a reality check. Sure enough, this was no nightmare – all his clothes were gone, with just a neat row of coat hangers, the only tangible reminder of his former presence.

She wandered from room to room, beside herself with heartache. Her mind just couldn’t focus. Eventually, she made a coffee, lit up a cigarette, and sat in front of the television set, hoping something would take her mind off everything. But as soon as the screen lit up, she saw the date and almost gasped in horror – she had lost three days and had no idea why. The sleeping tablets had left her heady, but really, she should have known the date.

‘Oh shit!’ she muttered, her mind on the trip to Denmark. Her hands were shaking, as she plugged the phone back into the socket. A cold shiver ran through her. Roger would be angry and humiliated. She’d let him down again and now she felt guilty. Without even thinking through how she would explain her absence from work, she called the office number. Roger answered within two rings. ‘Professor Luken.’

Kara stared into space, holding the phone to her ear. ‘It’s me, Kara.’ Her voice was a mere whisper.

There was silence, and she could sense his upbeat tone plummeting. ‘Oh, so you are alive, then? Well, Kara, I think it’s best that you contact Human Resources. This situation is completely out of my hands … unless, of course, you are in hospital and couldn’t get to a bloody phone.’

‘Er … no, I fell asleep. I mean, I was sick, I, um …’

‘Enough, Kara, I am too busy cleaning up your mess to talk. Call HR. I think they will need to see you. As far as I am concerned, you no longer work with me.’ The phone went dead. Kara continued to stare into the distance. It was an unwelcome, life-changing moment: her career was over, and she now had nothing. Her boyfriend and her job were the two most important things in her life. Now, each was flushed down the toilet.

The only solace she had was there in that medicine box. She swallowed hard, again to force the nauseous feeling away, and shuffled on unsteady feet to the kitchen. As she lifted the lid to the medicine box, she got a whiff of stale sweat. Normally, that would have had her tearing up the stairs to the shower, but not today. All she wanted was to be rid of the torturous thoughts weaving in and out of her subconscious.

She swallowed another four tablets and reached for the bottle of brandy that she kept for cooking. The taste was harsh and ripped at her already sore throat. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she gulped back mouthfuls, gasped for breath, and then filled her mouth with more amber nectar. A sudden warm feeling softened her tense muscles and she stared at the drugs in the box. If she took all of them, she would be over this pain for good.

She shook her head, remembering a time when she’d stared at a bottle of tablets but didn’t have the guts back then. She gulped more of the brandy, but as she was about to snap open the first pot of pills, she felt weak and overcome with tiredness. She made her way into the living room and flopped onto the four-seater leather sofa. Within seconds, she was out cold in body, yet her mind was awash with vivid nightmares of the past.

A noise in the distant recesses of her mind rendered her half-awake. For a moment, she was unsure where she was until she saw the huge inglenook fireplace and the antique trunk she and Justin used as a coffee table. Slowly, she pulled her aching body to an upright position and took large breaths of air. It was all coming back to her and her face crumpled in pain. After pushing the quilt from her legs, she frowned. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but who had covered her over?

Like a fragile child, she got to her feet and gingerly made her way to the kitchen. The money was gone, and the medicine box was put away. Angie! It must have been Angie who covered her over. A deep sadness enveloped her because she knew then that she had to get herself together and deal with the mental anguish of being alone. The date on the kitchen clock was flashing, and yet Kara could not comprehend it. She’d lost six days. How the hell did that happen?

Snapping out of her daze, and in a rush to pull herself together, she made breakfast, and just as she finished the last mouthful, she heard what she assumed was the postman, as he shoved the mail through the letterbox. She looked down at the floor and saw a letter from Lucas Lane and Partners, Solicitor, their solicitor and long-term friend. With no stamp, she surmised it had been hand-delivered.

She fingered her way around the seal and then ripped the envelope open. She had to read the words twice in disbelief. Discounting all the legal jargon for the moment, the solicitor said she was to move out by the end of the week. What? She fell to her knees and screamed like a wild animal. ‘You bastard, you FUCKING BASTARD!’ Gagging in between sobs, Kara punched the door repeatedly. How could he be so cruel? This wasn’t her man; this was not him at all. He would never have thrown her out on her ear. She reread the letter, hoping she’d misread it, but the instruction was there in black and white.

Justin owned the house. It was his before they met, and now he was turfing her out to move in his girlfriend. How could he? This was their home, albeit in his name, but it was theirs. They’d shared and decorated it and made it their own.

Falling to her knees, she clenched her stomach, as if her insides were being pulled away from her. She gasped for air, as though her lungs wouldn’t work. Unexpectedly, she was fraught with an uncontrollable rage. Her otherwise disciplined persona was somehow switched off, as if the devil himself had taken control of her senses. Tidal waves of incensed fury pushed her to act so out of character, that she wasn’t fully aware of her actions. A sudden red mist descended and blinded her.

The sleeping tablets, the drink, and the feeling of utter betrayal pushed her to search the cupboards for something to destroy their love nest. If he wanted the house, then he could fucking have it. Yet, she was going to make dead sure he would never live in it again. She headed straight for the garage – his garage that housed every tool imaginable. There, by the garage doors, were the lawnmower and strimmer, which had stood unused because they employed a gardener, but Justin, being Justin, liked his man tools and toys.

By the side were two petrol cans, in case he ever needed to mow the lawn himself or fill up his car. In a fit of anger, she grabbed the cans and returned to the kitchen, intent on a mission. She would destroy their home – his home.

Her anger now reaching to a new level, she could only imagine Justin and some bimbo enjoying a house that she and Justin had painstakingly decorated and furnished. She splashed the petrol up the walls, over the sofas, up the stairs, and on the bed. Then, almost falling down the stairs breathless and seething, she ran into the kitchen, where she splashed the rest of the fuel over the worktops before throwing the can at the French doors, smashing the glass.

The sound made her rage heighten, as she pulled open a drawer, snatched the sharp carving knife, and began stabbing the highly polished cabinets, imagining it was his body she was desecrating. With one swift movement of her arm, she cleared the worktop of everything: the cups, the toaster, the kettle, and the antique vases belonging to his great-grandmother. They all crashed to the floor. Then, taking a deep breath, she reached for her lighter.

She backed away from the kitchen and towards the French doors. The broken glass on the floor pricked the heel of her foot and she winced in pain. Then, grabbing the newspaper that had been left on the kitchen table by the door, she set it alight.

Instantly, the flames grew at speed. Without a second thought, she threw the burning newspaper onto the kitchen worktop and retreated into the rear garden. Wearing only a thin tracksuit, the cold night air caused her to shiver. As she turned to walk away, an enormous explosion knocked her to the ground. The gas boiler had caught alight and had blown the side window clean away from its frame.

Kara lay on the cold damp grass, unable to move. The blast had also shot a heavy piece of the doorframe across the garden, striking her across the back. But all she could do was stare and watch as the brilliant-white detached house became steadily consumed with grey choking smoke. The growing flames flared up and out of the broken windows, licking the walls and turning them black. Everyone in the close could hear the loud bangs and whistles. As she lay there winded, a horrific high-pitched scream belted out from next door – it was not a woman’s scream.

It hit her all at once like a bat across the head. Her eyes widened at the destruction in front of her, and voices in her head were pummelling her with fury for her irresponsible actions.

‘Oh my God! Have I done this?’

Mr Langley was cradling his wife on the drive. Her head was bleeding profusely, and she lay there unconscious. The blast from the side window had shot shards of glass and debris just as Jenny Langley was taking the shopping from the boot of her car, resulting in her being hit hard around the head.

The neighbours ran from their homes to see Justin’s house billowing smoke from the flames. One man called the fire brigade and another called an ambulance. Hearing Mr Langley’s screams, they ran to his aid. Mr Johnson, a retired police officer, helped carry Jenny Langley away from the burning building and onto the grass where he rolled his jacket and laid it under her head. Mr Langley was in a blind panic. All he could do was hold his wife and offer up a prayer that she wouldn’t die.

‘Is anyone in there?’ asked Mr Johnson.

Mr Langley was too traumatised to answer. The rest of the neighbours couldn’t or wouldn’t help. They gathered in the close, watching the once beautiful house being destroyed and seeing yet more devastation as the windows blew out from the blasts.

Slowly, but surely, Kara got to her feet and tried to register the devastation she’d caused. Reality hit her; she had just burned down Justin’s house.

She heard the fire engine in the distance and knew then that she was in shit up to her neck. It was too late to turn back now though – actions have consequences.