Prologue
Saturday, 5 May 2012
‘I’ve had it, you’ve left me sitting in the corner while you mess about with your bloody camera all night. How stupid of me to think we could come out and have a good time.’ She shrugged as she continued shouting in his ear. ‘You know something, your photos aren’t even good.’ His wife certainly knew how to ruin a good night. The DJ started playing Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’ and several people began shaking their bodies on the dance floor.
Frowning, she tapped the last photo on the camera display screen. Two dancers beamed a smile back at him – a moment in time captured forever. He was sure he had the settings right but his wife had a point. The photo was overexposed. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t care that they weren’t perfect – he wouldn’t tell her that though.
People writhed against each other, dancing closely, kissing and laughing. There was something about the whole scene that made him squirm and fidget. He wanted to scratch the annoying itch that irritated his sweaty armpits. All the revellers were in a public place and acted as though they’d just entered an orgy. A few drinks and a bit of music, and anyone was anybody’s.
Even his wife’s expectations had increased since they’d joined the stupid club a couple of months ago. The idea sounded so innocent, a local social club, a bi-monthly disco, the odd quiz, skittles and pool, and the odd covers band. Idea and reality were so different. So far, all he’d seen were couples mingling with those they shouldn’t have been mingling with, just like the last time they’d come. He’d seen husbands flirting with bar staff, girlfriends dancing and screaming raucously on the dance floor, arms like spaghetti around other men’s necks and waists.
No longer was his own wife content with their cosy nights in, she wanted more and it was nights like this that were giving her these silly expectations. He didn’t want to get drunk and gyrate with strangers, and he didn’t appreciate the effect this new environment was having on her.
He held the camera to his eye and squinted as he looked through. Coming to the club had been the worst thing ever for them, especially when he’d seen that Samantha had been a regular.
‘You’re not even listening to me, are you? You stand there, experiencing the world through your amateur-level camera, but you don’t join in.’
‘What do you expect me to do? This isn’t my thing.’
‘I expect you to make an effort but that’s too much to hope for.’ She snatched her coat from the back of a chair, red-faced as she stormed out of the function room.
A flutter filled his stomach. Just as he’d hoped, she’d gone and left him alone. He knew exactly which buttons to push. It wasn’t the first time she’d left him standing alone and it wouldn’t be the last. Why she stuck with him, he’d never know. Maybe they were in a classic rut, neither wanting to leave but neither being happy in the relationship. Whatever – he really didn’t care.
He adjusted his flash and stared through the lens, directly at Samantha, the very person this was all for.Life and soul of the party. Samantha knows how to have fun.She liked being called Sam but he’d never call her that. It’s a man’s name. He’d always refer to her as Samantha. He zoomed in on her nails, long and pink, as richly painted as her full lips. The automatic focus adjusted, blurring her image for a few seconds. As she came back into view, he zoomed in on her lips again then slowly pulled out, revealing her full head and shoulder portrait. Long blonde hair cascaded over her elegant neck and shoulders, framing her stunning cheekbones. All the men loved her full lips and beautiful bone structure. They’d all be jealous if only they knew what he and Samantha had been up to.
Disco lights began to flash in his direction. Squinting, he watched Samantha calling a passing man before dragging him along, his pint sloshing over the side of the glass as he placed it on a nearby table before being pulled into the centre of the dance floor. The man wasn’t familiar – maybe he was a new member – but he was classically handsome and well sculptured. He swallowed. Samantha was certainly enjoying the feel of the man’s hands on her body.
‘Do You Love Me’, the song fromDirty Dancing, blasted out. Samantha let out an excited yell and pulled the staggering man closer, grinding against him in time to the music.
This is what he was looking for. He gripped the camera and swallowed as she caught his eye, biting her bottom lip and performing for the camera. She knew exactly who he was and this show was just for him. He was under the illusion that she was punishing him for bringing his wife along.
He caught her perfectly as she pointed into the camera while sticking her tongue out. Damn it! The photo was overexposed – his wife was right. Fiddling with the dials and settings, he tried to fix the problem. Aperture or ISO? He couldn’t remember what to adjust. He couldn’t even remember what those functions were. His hands started to jitter. He’d forgotten what to do. Sweat beads slipped down the side of his face. Flash. He adjusted the flash settings and exhaled. That had to be the solution.
Glancing back at the corridor, he spotted his wife sitting on a window ledge, clamping an unlit cigarette between her lips. She must have come back. A tear ran down her face as she stared at him. She knew he’d been watching Samantha and she was hurt. He’d make it up with her as soon as he returned home and hopefully she’d end their nights out at this hideous club. She stuck two fingers up at him and stumbled to a stand before leaving the building. He wouldn’t chase her. He’d continue taking his photos until he got what he came for. Everything was going to plan now she’d really left and gone home.
As he sipped his one and only warm pint, he spotted another woman sitting on a bench at the back of the room.
She stroked her glass as she watched the man dancing with Samantha. Vodka and Coke, he guessed. She looked like a vodka drinker. As the red and blue lights flashed past her, he caught a moment, one he wished he’d managed to capture in a photo but as usual he’d been too slow. He held the camera to his eye, not wanting to miss out on the perfect opportunity again. A long necklace dangled in her cleavage. The silver J hung on a chain. J for Joanna. J for Jenny. J for… There was no use guessing. The only thing he knew was that J was distraught at her partner’s behaviour. He’d hurt her and it probably hadn’t been the first time. J twisted her wedding band like she wanted to rip it off her finger and fling it across the room but J had dignity. She wouldn’t cause a scene. He’s her husband, not partner.
J’s husband was now sticking his tongue in Samantha’s ear. The distraught woman almost toppled the table as she stood and slammed her drink down. Storming out of the room, she glanced back as she reached the door. He could see the expectancy in her eyes. One moment caught on camera forever. One moment that told him a story, one he’d explore for a long time to come. Her cheating husband hadn’t even noticed. He’d been too drunk and enchanted by Samantha, the seductress.
He thought of his own wife who’d be almost home by now. His wife probably wanted to be more like Samantha; she’d certainly been trying, especially on the clothes front. He didn’t like what she was becoming. She had envy written all over her face. Samantha was leggier, Samantha was firmer; Samantha was perfect – too perfect. The marriage destroyer. The hedonist. The slut. His wife hated that word, but that’s what Samantha was and he wasn’t going to hold back. The thought police would never censor him and neither would his wife. He thought it as he saw it. Samantha was a slut, he knew that all too well. She’d been an easy lay for him and her reputation was based on truth, as half the men in Cleevesford knew.
He reviewed his last photo, staring at J’s image. That photo was perfectly exposed, just like the thoughts running through J’s mind, spelled out across her face. He knew her story. Just before she had left the room, this is what she’d been thinking.Please run after me. Tell me you’re sorry. Hold me like you love me and you didn’t mean what you did. I’ll forgive you because I always do.You’re just drunk and you’ll regret everything tomorrow morning.But J’s husband didn’t run after her and he didn’t look apologetic.
As the song ended, Samantha loosened her grip, headed over to the bar and gulped down her drink. The man glanced over to see his partner’s empty chair. The realisation sobered him quickly. He grabbed his jacket and ran out of the door. The music faded and the house lights went on. The party was over and party girl needed her beauty sleep.
He watched as Samantha searched for her bag and coat and began the rounds of hugging and kissing everyone goodnight. It was time for him to leave before people took any real notice of his presence. Samantha would linger to the end, she always did. Maybe she’d pull, maybe she wouldn’t. He hoped she wouldn’t tonight as her time had come. She needed to be taught a lesson, a firm one.
He checked his watch. At ten to one in the morning, he wondered how it could take someone so long to leave a party. He knew this was the route she took home, which is why he’d parked the car in the quiet alleyway earlier that day. He’d even walked to the club with his wife, telling her that he’d walked home from work, leaving the car there.
Maybe Samantha had left with someone and wasn’t coming home. Maybe she’d taken a different route. No, she was a creature of habit. This was the route she always took if she was walking home. She didn’t always go home though. Maybe she’d gone down a back alley with J’s husband. His mind flitted back to poor bedraggled J. ‘This is for you, J.’ He respected J. She didn’t prance around the dance floor, flaunting it all. She had self-respect. After tonight, he doubted he’d ever see J again but deep down, he knew J would be thankful for what he was about to do. ‘Come on,’ he whispered as he slipped behind a hedge and waited.
A familiar clipping noise filled the still night air. As it got louder, he knew she was close. The clipping became more irregular before it stopped. Had she suspected his presence? A heaving sound came from nowhere as she threw up against a fence.That’s for drinking so much. She cleared her throat and began walking once again, not suspecting a thing. He stood poised for her passing, then brought the tool down on her head before she could respond. Nice and fast, just the way he’d hoped it would be. No screaming, no struggling, nothing but a quiet whimper as she tried to focus on him.
His heart raced as he watched her jerk and shake on the concrete path. He needed to get her to the car. Within a few moments, she was still. He bent over and felt for her pulse. She was still alive, just as he’d planned. He was going to teach her a lesson and he’d need her to be alert while he delivered it. He carried the slight woman down the path, pressed the boot release button and flung the dead weight into the plastic-lined space. Let the lesson commence.
One
