He remembered the spare key under the mat and slotted it into the lock.
‘Rita,’ he’d said stepping into the doorway. ‘Rita what the …?’
She was standing by the window. A whisper of light from the street lamp sparkled on something in her hand. Then he’d seen what it was and had tried to make sense of it. Something isn’t right, he’d thought. A knot of fear had tightened in his stomach and a knife seemed to slide through his chest. It was then he realised. The jigsaw puzzle all came together. He should have waited, waited until midnight.
‘A terrible tragedy,’ they’d said.
‘Never try to be a hero,’ Ray had said.
He’d got it all wrong. Fool, he’d been an arrogant fool. He hadn’t drowned at all. Don’t try to be a hero. But, it was too late.
*
‘Henry,’ Rita screamed, dropping down beside him.
Blood had soaked through his light corduroy trousers and was slowly spreading across the landing. Rita pushed her shaking hands onto the wound in an effort to stop the river of blood that threatened to drown them. The bullet had gone through his thigh. Rita could see the gaping hole. Do something, a voice yelled in her head. Why don’t you do something?
She clutched his hand in hers.
‘Call an ambulance,’ she screamed at Billy.
Billy stared at her, his eyes blank.
‘Now,’ she yelled.
Billy turned, almost falling down the stairs in his haste.
‘Jesus, what have you done?’ he groaned.
Henry clutched at his chest.
‘Ca … Can’t bre … breathe,’ he croaked.
Oh no, not Henry the nice man, Henry the epitome of kindness, the man Rita dreamt of.
The hallway smelt of bluebells. Her knees were damp, and she looked down to see the broken bottle of Jo Malone perfume sticking out of pink tissue paper.
‘Please hold on,’ she whispered. ‘Everything is going to be alright.’
She could hear Billy shouting. ‘Hurry for Christ’s sake. He’s been shot.’
The clock ticked; time waited for no man. Henry’s time was up. Oxygen was slowly being ripped and snatched from his lungs.
‘Help is coming,’ Rita sobbed.
His hand shook in hers.
‘Don’t leave me,’ he whispered.
‘I’ll never leave you,’ she said.
A small smile played at Henry’s lips. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it.
‘Hang on Henry, please hang on.’
He had time, she thought. Father took a long time. Remember? He took an awful long time to die. Demons are in you, Rita. You’ll never be free. You don’t even know how long he took. You left him. You left him to die in agony. God has no mercy for you.
*
