‘I was a sad, miserable man, Milo, living a lonely existence, unloved, unlovable, a nobody. But despite all those flaws, at least I wasn’t dead inside. At least I felt something. Now, I feel no more emotion than the artificial intelligence that’s going to take our jobs.’
‘Why would you want to go back to being miserable?’
‘Because at least I knew who I was then. Now I have no idea. And the worst thing is that I can’t muster up the enthusiasm to even care.’
A sudden gust of wind shook the gantry; Charlie held on with both hands. But as he approached the gap between gantry and roof, he came close to losing his footing. Milo hurried towards him, reached for the chain and pulled it, steadying the rocking device. It allowed Charlie to step back safely onto the roof.
‘Thank you,’ he said. And without forethought, Charlie moved his face towards Milo’s, tilting his head until his lips touched those of his friend’s. Their complete attention was locked onto one another as Charlie kissed him. It was Charlie’s first same-sex kiss; not born from desire but desperation to spark something inside him by trying anything new. Milo didn’t protest or withdraw, but he didn’t participate either. Charlie was the first to disengage.
‘Look, mate, I’m not denying there’s …something… between us,’ said Milo. ‘But all I want to be is your friend today. Is that all right?’
Charlie nodded. ‘Understood. Can I have my room key, please?’
Milo removed it from his pocket and passed it to him. With one hand, Charlie took it and for a second, hesitated, as if weighing up the pros and cons of what was to come next. Then with the other hand, he used all his strength to shove his unsuspecting friend as hard as he could, and watched him fall over the edge, fifty-two storeys down to the road below.
Chapter 56
BRUNO, OUNDLE, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE
Bruno paused to turn his head when he reached the porch.
The Echoes were trailing him from his house to Watson’s but were far from subtle in their endeavours; he’d heard whispers and faint footsteps the entire journey. He could just about make out a gathering in a neighbouring garden. And he chuckled at the absurdity of being stalked by his own imagination.
He clutched a bottle of Italian white wine he’d purchased at an off-licence, pressed the doorbell and heard it chime from inside. He recalled the moment days earlier when he lost all control and, armed with a hammer, his intention was to attack Karen Watson in her car. She was two metres away from death when he overheard mother and daughter singing along to show tunes on the stereo. What he would have given for that to have been him with Louie.
He took a figurative and literal step back as his rational side took control. Killing Watson would only offer him temporary satisfaction. And even his ever-diminishing sense of decency drew the line at murdering a parent in front of their child. Bruno was going to return to Plan B and tonight he would take everything away from Watson that she had stolen from him.
A camera whirred as it changed position and pointed towards him. ‘Hold on,’ she asked via the intercom.
Through the frosted panes of glass her shadow grew before the door opened. ‘Hello,’ she said, flustered. She wore no make-up; her hair was scraped back into a tight ponytail and her clothes were crumpled. Her naturalness gave him butterflies.
‘Is everything all right?’ Bruno asked. ‘Dinner is tonight, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but not for another couple of hours.’
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. When Nora said come for five o’clock, I thought it was a bit early. I must have misheard.’
‘Yes, it was seven,’ Watson said apologetically, even though it hadn’t been her mistake. ‘Nora is still at Saturday school; I’m picking her up in a few minutes.’
‘Okay, look, no worries, I’ll just walk home and come back later.’
‘Didn’t you drive?’
‘No, it’s such a beautiful afternoon that I thought I’d come on foot. It only took half an hour. I’ll go and have a pint at the Ship and come back for seven.’
‘No, no, I can’t let you do that. Besides, your wine will get warm.’ Watson stood to one side and beckoned him in. Closing the door behind him, he followed her into a large, open-plan kitchen. Bifold doors stretched the length of a flat, landscaped garden. It was every bit as beautiful inside as it was from the outside.
‘I’ll have to leave you on your own while I get Nora, though.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help out with dinner?’
‘No, it’s all prepared. The lounge is to the right, make yourself at home or help yourself to a drink from the fridge.’
Bruno watched Watson hang her apron on the wall. ‘Once I steal everything, I’ll be gone by the time you return.’
‘Okay, well, I keep the gold bullion in the cellar and the diamonds are in the safe behind the Picasso. I’ll be back in about half an hour.’
Bruno made his way into the lounge as the front door closed and he absorbed his surroundings. Despite its size, its decoration was warm and cosy and reminded him of his former family home; the home he had been forced to leave because of people like Watson. Shelves creaked under the weight of her books, two large plump sofas surrounded an open fire, and a huge television screen was attached to the wall. It wasn’t hard to imagine Louie and him living happily there.
