In the few seconds before Rita pulled the trigger Henry knew he’d lost. He’d tried to cheat death, but death was always going to win.
‘When your number’s up, your number’s up,’ his father used to say. For once he’d been right. Henry had opened his mouth to ask Rita what was happening, but she’d screamed hysterically. Her wide-open mouth had been stained red with blood. Not red like poppy red lipstick but bright red, warm and sticky. Then it had happened; his destiny, the inevitable. He hadn’t felt anything at first, not really. It was a bit like being stung by a bee. His leg had cramped and then given way. It was the vice-like grip in his chest that had knocked the breath out of him. It had felt like someone was sitting on him. He couldn’t breathe. The pain had raced down his arm and he could do nothing but clutch his chest and lie there. The smell of bluebells had filled his nostrils as he’d struggled to get his breath. The perfume, he hadn’t given her the perfume. Then she was there beside him. His lovely Rita Meter Maid.
She’d clutched his hand in hers. Henry had tried with his other hand to ease the pressure on his chest. If he managed to pull off the heavy weight, then perhaps he’d be alright.
‘Ca … Can’t bre … breathe,’ he’d croaked.
He could hear Billy shouting. The clock had ticked relentlessly. His time was up. He’d felt a great weight on his chest and been drenched in sweat. He’d learnt life’s lessons too late.
‘Please hold on,’ Rita whispered. ‘Everything is going to be alright. Help is coming.’
His hand had shaken in hers.
‘Don’t leave me,’ he whispered.
‘I’ll never leave you,’ she said.
Poor Rita Meter Maid. How could he save her. It made sense now. Of course she could see him. Only the dead can see the dead.
‘Not your fault,’ he whispered. ‘It was meant to be. Remember, not your fault.
He felt her tears on his face.
He couldn’t hold on any longer. He knew it was futile to fight any more. It was time to leave. He would have liked to have stayed longer, long enough to have had the child. Stupid, bloody fool, you should have made the most of it. Should have made the most of Imogen, he thought angrily. Now his life was over. Hardly anyone would come to the funeral, he knew that. I should have invested more in friendships. Poor Imogen, she’ll have a task finding people to come.
‘Hang on, Henry, please hang on,’ Rita sobbed.
‘Not your fault,’ he said, knowing it was futile.
He’d see her again, he knew that. Poor Rita, he thought, she had no idea and with that thought, Henry finally let go.
*
Henry blinked his last second and Rita felt the breath leave him forever.
‘Oh God, Henry,’ she moaned.
‘Christ,’ murmured Billy who’d rushed back upstairs. ‘You’ll do time for this.’
Rita sat by Henry. Her heart seemed to strangely slow and a warm feeling of calmness enveloped her. You’ll never be free, whispered a voice. She felt sore where Billy had tried to enter her. She thought she could smell his semen and sweat. She had a weird sensation as though he was still inside her, still pushing, trying to possess her.
‘Should we do CPR or something,’ cried Billy.
‘He’s dead,’ said Rita softly.
She lifted her head and looked at Billy. He was the frightened one now. She smiled fleetingly and for a second Billy wasn’t sure if she had smiled at all for her face was now a white mask. She doesn’t look human, he thought.
‘This is your fault,’ she said, her voice thick with emotion. ‘You shouldn’t have had a gun in your house.’
‘Jesus,’ exclaimed Billy. ‘You’re nuts, you are. Don’t you put this on me.’
Rita stood up slowly and stumbled into the bedsit. Billy watched as she fetched a multi-coloured blanket and laid it over Henry before looking back at Billy. Her hand clutched Henry’s tightly and then Billy saw something glitter in her other hand. She was holding the gun. Billy froze.
‘What are you doing babe?’ he asked, fear paralysing him.
‘I will be free,’ she said. Billy watched in horror as she lifted the gun. His eyes widened in fear and his body tensed in anticipation. She put the gun to her mouth. Billy clutched at his throat and let out a primal scream.
‘No!’
