I close the front door behind me.
The car’s in the garage and Imogen and I are safely home. I lean my back against the door, shut my eyes, and feel sweet relief.
All I need to do now is to keep Imogen with me. She’s ruined the alibi I set up for this afternoon and tonight, so she has to become my alibi. It’s not strictly necessary that my time is accounted for, a nice thing to have rather than a need to have, but I would like to have her with me. Now that she is, it feels essential somehow. I can’t tell you how important to me it is that this night be a good one because it’s the first night of our new life together. Not that she knows any of this yet.
“I’m going out later,” she says. Her cello is leaning against the wall, her hand lingering on the scroll end of the case. She, and it, look timeless. I’m so lucky to have her.
“Out? Where?” I ask, keeping my tone light, feeling a little bud of panic unfurl in my chest.
“With friends.”
“Which friends?”
“Jemma.”
“Jemma and who?”
“What?”
“You said friends. Plural.”
“I meant just Jemma.”
“Do you think she’d like to come here? She can join us for takeout. And a movie?” I can tell from the mildly disgusted expression on Imogen’s face that I might be sounding a little desperate.
“You don’t like Jemma.”
She’s right. She must remember when I lost my temper with Jemma all those years ago, when I thought Jemma was being unfair to Imogen. But I’m not going to admit it. “I do like Jemma. She’s a nice girl.”
“You could say it like you mean it.”
Deep breath. Most convincing expression. “I mean it. She’s most welcome to hang out with us tonight.”
“I don’t think she’s going to want to come here. We were thinking of going out.”
“Going out where?”
She shrugs, but I’m not buying into it. Of course, she knows what they’re planning to do tonight, and whatever it is, it’s not going to happen. Rob used to say that it’s best to back down when you’re dealing with Imogen, give her space and she’ll come around. I didn’t always agree, but I try it, now. My shrug is as nonchalant as I can make it and I turn away to pick up the post on the mat.
“Well, she’s welcome. And don’t you think you should take it easy tonight and stay in? You weren’t in a good place when we spoke this morning.”
She hesitates. I can sense her mental cogs turning. She knows I’ve got a point. Though I suspect I haven’t won this yet. “I guess I am tired.”
“Why don’t you relax, take a bath or something?”
When she’s upstairs, I rummage through my bag and locate the burner phone. I don’t need it any longer.
Removing the SIM card only takes a moment. I pocket it and carry the body of the phone into the garden. Before Imogen mucked up my plans, I had a different idea for the destruction of this phone, but it’s no longer viable. This is Plan B. It will have to do.
I kneel at the edge of the pond and sprinkle its surface with flakes of foul-smelling fish food. The fish rise, eyes bulging, gobbling, always so greedy, and I let the phone slip from my hand into the water where it sinks soundlessly with barely a ripple between the churning bodies. Imogen won’t be able to see me here. Neither her room nor the bathroom have a window overlooking the pond.
The phone settles invisibly into the depths. I’ll retrieve it later and dispose of it properly.
The SIM card goes into the kitchen waste disposal unit joining saturated Cheerios and the wilted remains of some salad leaves. I switch it on, and it grinds noisily. When the sound changes, I stop and flush with water. I can just get my fingers in to feel that the card is still intact, but badly damaged. I retrieve it carefully. I’m pretty sure I’ve destroyed it but to be sure, I take it into the sitting room and put it in the grate. I arrange a pyramid of kindling over it, making sure it’s perfect. Lastly, I tuck a firelighter in and light it.
The flames are so pretty. You could lose yourself in them and I do for a while. I watch until the card curls and melts and a sense of satisfaction settles inside me.
That’s another job ticked off, another obstacle removed, bringing Imogen and me a bit closer to starting our future.
