She can’t even hit a static target. She’s useless. Completely worthless. Nothing she does has any effect. If Janice dies, it’s going to be her fault.
Janice isn’t going to die. She’s got a tummy bug, that’s all. Or gastric flu. Marie’s cleared her airways, propped her up. It’s going to be all right.
‘Sorry, sheep,’ she says, walking towards the house. It grazes on, unheeding.
35
Forget all the attempts to find rescue – there’s none there to be found. No knight on a white charger to carry them away, no helicopter swooping down on its dragon wings. It’s up to her. Her and Janice, backs against the wall, as they’ve always been.
She’s up the stairs now and in the bedroom. The air is thick, a stench of whisky hitting her throat. Janice is still slumped in the recovery position and for a moment, just one, Marie thinks it might be all right, that Janice has held on. She takes a step closer, another one.
Even from a few paces away, though, she can tell. Something’s different; there’s an absence. What she’s looking at isn’t Janice, not anymore. She takes the final steps slowly, so slowly, and reaches out her hand, takes hold of Janice’s wrist.
Nothing. In that short time that she was searching for help, Janice has gone. Marie slumps down on the floor, leaning against the bed, her hand still on Janice, and she weeps. Not for Janice, not really, but for the end of something. The change that’s going to come.
But not for long. She knows what she needs to do. Her mind’s completely clear now, all the doubts and fears gone. She needs to get out of here – there’s no time to waste. Soon, very soon, they’re all going to descend. The helicopter, police, journalists. She can see the headlines now.
CHILD-KILLER FOUND DEAD IN HIGHLANDS HIDEAWAY.
BRITAIN’S MOST HATED MOTHER ESCAPES JUSTICE AGAIN.
Let me burn, Janice said.Just let me burn.
If Marie waits for them to arrive, Janice won’t get her wish. Not the way she wants. It’ll be a midnight burial, an unmarked grave. And for herself, she can’t face what’ll come. Ghoulish, that’s the word. They’ll clamber round her, full of questions, unable to understand how she could stay with this woman for so long, in such an isolated way. If she can’t explain it properly to herself, how can she ever explain it to them . . .?
There is a solution, though. There’s a can of petrol in the outhouse. She found it once when she was rootling through everything, assessing what they had and what they might need. Maybe this is an extreme solution, but the problem is also extreme. She can take Janice out into the hills, carry her to a quiet spot and burn her body. It’s not legal, of course, to impede lawful burial. But this way, at least she’ll know that Janice gets the respect that she doesn’t deserve, but which Marie feels is her due for the past years of companionship. Of friendship, almost.
Steeling herself, she tries to lift Janice from the bed. Fails. Even though Janice has always appeared slight, the body is too heavy for Marie. That won’t work.
She goes through to her own room, throws her clothes into the rucksack in which she brought them those long years ago. Janice has a couple of jumpers she likes – she packs them, too. Janice doesn’t need them anymore. Once that’s done, she goes down to the kitchen and puts what food she has into the top of the bag, as many non-perishables as there are, a bottle of water, too.
Not long now. She needs to get the hell out of here. Standing for a moment in the kitchen, she looks around, checking there’s nothing she’s forgotten. The envelope. That’s it. She moves towards the shelf where she’s hidden it before stopping herself. She’s seen enough of them, their secrets all revealed to her. She won’t be sorry to see them burn, either.
Now she’s as ready as she can be. Time for the final step.
The petrol can is still where she remembers, a sound of liquid sloshing when she tips it from side to side. There’s not much inside.
But it’ll be enough.
In the back of her mind is a lurking suspicion that she might not be acting entirely rationally, but she ignores it, squashing it down fast. Headlines rush through in their place, from Janice’s parole hearings, the outcry, her struggle to be freed. Janice deserved a chance then; she deserves dignity now. If it weren’t for Marie’s involvement, perhaps Janice would never have been released from prison to this place, but she owes the woman a debt, too. Despite all the privations she’s suffered here, life would have been purposeless had she not been entrusted with Janice’s care; she’s going to make sure she carries out her final responsibility.
Holding her breath against the fumes, she goes upstairs and pours petrol over Janice’s body, over the bed. There are a couple of polyester garments hanging on the back of the door, a fleece and a shirt, which she tucks around Janice, hoping they’re as flammable as they look. Dumping the can at the foot of the bed, she stands in silence for a moment beside Janice, her hand on the dead woman’s face, saying her goodbyes.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. She might not be able to commit Janice’s body fully to the flames, not like a crematorium, but she’ll give it her best shot. At least Janice will be spared the prying, cold fingers prodding at the dead flesh of a woman they despise.
Making sure she’s well clear, Marie lights a piece of paper that she’s scrunched up and throws it on to the end of the bed, before turning and running for the door. There’s awhumphas the petrol catches, crackling as the flames lick the bedding, the blankets, the piles of paper under the bed that Marie’s always told Janice are a fire hazard.
Smoke biting at her eyes, her throat, she retreats fast, down the stairs, and picks up the bag. Taking one last look at the kitchen, she makes her exit. The bed is burning, the sounds from upstairs indicating that the fire has entirely caught hold.
They wanted a show on their cameras, those lidless eyes.
They’ve got it now, the performance to top them all. She’ll bring the house down.
Outside, a good distance away, she turns to look at it. The purification of fire, though she doesn’t feel like a phoenix reborn. Not yet. It’s a bridge burned, though. With Janice gone, Marie is free. She puts her shoulders back and heads into the hills.
Marie’s taken her punishment, served her time. Now to deal with unfinished business. She’s got a job to do.
Part 4
