Till We Meet Again (38 page)

Then Zoë arrived and everything, all her hopes and dreams, were shattered.

Susan supposed killing Reuben must have entered her mind long before she was even aware of it, because one day she took the revolver out of its wrapping and cleaned and oiled it without knowing why. But it was weeks later, during March, that all her hurt, jealousy and anger bubbled up to the surface and spilled over.

She had gone for a walk that afternoon. It was a cold but sunny day, and as she walked down the track from Hill House she noticed the first signs of spring, green shoots on the hedgerows and a few clumps of primroses on the most sheltered banks. While she couldn’t say she felt happy, these signs were a kind of salve to her hurt, and as she walked she thought perhaps she could pawn her mother’s rings, catch the bus to Cardiff and stay in a cheap room until she found a job.

The further she walked, the more cheerful she felt, thinking perhaps she could apply for a position as a housekeeper, or even a nanny. She imagined a house near the sea, and her own comfortable, warm room. She thought that would be more than enough for her, she certainly didn’t want any more men entering her life.

On the way back home, she gathered some primroses, but as she stepped into the kitchen, Zoë and Reuben were there. Zoë was wearing her usual tight jeans and a cardigan unbuttoned to show her cleavage and was in the process of painting her nails.

They looked startled, and she guessed they had been talking about her. The table she had left clear was strewn with dirty coffee mugs and plates, and she could smell cannabis over the nail varnish and the casserole in the oven.

‘You were supposed to be in the workroom this afternoon,’ Reuben said curtly.

‘I went for a walk instead,’ she retorted, and went over to a cupboard to find a vase for the primroses.

‘If you don’t work here, you don’t eat or sleep here either,’ he said. ‘It’s not a fucking holiday camp.’

He hadn’t shaved or washed his long hair for several days and he looked like a tramp in his patched green cords and ancient sweater with frayed cuffs. Yet it was the venom in his voice and eyes which made Susan’s anger rise. He had no right to treat her as if she was loathsome.

‘I was working for at least three hours this morning before you even got up,’ she snapped back at him. ‘Who do you think made that casserole cooking in the oven?’

‘No wonder you’re so fat,’ he sneered at her. ‘All you think of is food.’ Then, getting up from his chair, he snatched the primroses out of her hand and threw them down on the floor. ‘You can stop all these bourgeois flower arrangements too, they make me want to throw up. The only thing I want you to do is to piss off for good.’

Zoë started to giggle. ‘Yes, dear, why don’t you?’ she said in that superior tone of hers. ‘You’ve outlived your usefulness.’

Susan was tempted to slap her, but she knew Reuben would have no compunction about knocking her out for that. ‘What use are you?’ she snarled at the girl. ‘I’ve never seen you do a hand’s turn around the place.’

‘I don’t need to,’ Zoë said, tossing her blonde hair back and smirking at Reuben. ‘He likes me just the way I am.’

Susan knew she was in a completely defenceless position, much the same way she’d always been with Martin. They would deride her whatever she said, they might even throw her out of the house. Retreat was the only course open to her now.

That night she lay in bed crying, remembering the times when she and Reuben took walks together in the afternoons, when they’d lain awake in bed just talking and laughing for hours. He used to praise her cooking, admire her gentleness and calm. He said she had brought this house and the residents together in the way he had always hoped for.

She could possibly accept that he didn’t want her as his woman any more, but she couldn’t understand why he didn’t still value her as a friend. Surely he could see that Zoë was just using him and that she’d be off as soon as something better came along?

It was just a few nights later that she heard Reuben say, ‘Let’s make a baby tonight,’ as he came up the stairs with Zoë. That was the point when she flipped and began to want vengeance.

Every month since she’d been with him, she’d hoped she’d find herself pregnant, and every month she was disappointed. She was forty-two then, perhaps too old to conceive, and the thought that pretty, blonde Zoë might end up with Reuben’s baby in her arms was like a knife through the heart.

She finally left Hill House when Reuben and Zoë went away for a few days in April. She said her goodbyes to everyone the night before, and found them sympathetic as each one of them had complaints about how everything had changed since Zoë arrived. Yet even as they said words which were intended to comfort her, Susan knew they weren’t really sorry about her humiliation, they were only wondering who was going to cook and clean once she was gone.

She didn’t catch the bus to the station though. Instead, she took a circuitous walk up to Reuben’s glade. She had started to make her plans just after she’d heard Reuben mention a baby. Every dry afternoon she went for a walk and smuggled a camping item up there: a one-man tent, a sleeping bag and a small camping stove, along with food, a saucepan and a shovel. The planning eased the strain of still living under the same roof as Reuben and Zoë – every insult or sarcastic word from them added fuel to her fire.

Yet each time she revisited the glade, she was reminded painfully of the first time Reuben had shown it to her. It had been one of the most special moments in her life, a day when she had felt she was being launched into a whole new world where she was valued and would never feel unloved or alone ever again.

It was the only place Susan knew where she could go through with her plan. For the memories there fanned the anger inside her, keeping it white-hot. Spring had come now and she knew Reuben would bring Zoë up there before long, because she’d heard him telling her he had somewhere special to take her to. All she had to do was wait.

She pitched the tent right back in the woods, so it was invisible from the glade, and settled in. There was a small stream close by for water, she had several books and a lantern for the evenings. And by day she had their grave to dig. She didn’t even feel lonely, it was good to be alone, to plan and savour her revenge.

It was on the fifth day, when she made her usual midday observation of Hill House from the escarpment, that she saw Reuben’s van was back again. It was raining then, so she knew he wasn’t likely to come up that day. But the bluebells and wild garlic were just beginning to flower, so she guessed it wouldn’t be long.

The grave was proving hard to dig, for once she got through the top couple of feet of soft loam, it was rocky and full of tree roots. But that didn’t matter much. The spot she’d selected was a natural hollow, and she could cover it with bracken and shovel leaf mould from elsewhere on to it. Besides, no one ever came up here anyway.

The next day was fine but cold, and Susan sat by the escarpment most of the day watching Hill House. She saw Megan pegging washing on the line, and at one point Reuben and Roger got up on to the roof to make some repairs. She didn’t see Zoë.

It was around noon the day after, a much warmer day, that she saw Reuben and Zoë leaving the house. Reuben had a rolled-up blanket strapped to his back and a basket in his hand. She smiled bitterly at the way he was so predictable, thinking that he’d probably woken up that morning, seen the sunshine and told Zoë he was going to take her somewhere special, just as he had promised her.

She watched for a little while until there was no doubt that this was where they were coming. Then, after making a check that she’d left nothing in the glade to alert Reuben anyone had been there, she went back to the tent, got her gun and loaded it.

As well as practising with the gun, she had worked out some time ago exactly where she would wait. It had to be far enough back in the bushes so she was completely hidden, and any small movements wouldn’t be heard by them. But it couldn’t be too far back for she needed to watch them and almost certainly fire from her hiding place.

The spot she had chosen was right opposite the way into the glade, behind a thick evergreen bush. If they lay down in the same spot as she and Reuben had, they would be only twelve feet from her, a perfect range. She had cleared the ground behind the bush, a precaution against accidentally standing on a twig and alerting them, and as she got into her position she smiled to herself; she’d thought of everything.

She heard Zoë’s braying voice long before they got anywhere near the glade.

‘This had better be good, Reuben,’ she said. ‘I’m not really into woodland walks, I’m more of a city girl.’

‘So you are,’ Susan thought gleefully. ‘But a wood is where you are going to remain for all eternity.’

Reuben was wearing a new dusky-pink sweatshirt, Susan noted as he came into the glade with his hands over Zoë’s eyes. She supposed that he was upping his image for Zoë’s benefit. She was wearing skin-tight black leather trousers and a short red sweater, her long hair loose and tousled.

Seeing them together again, unaware they were being watched, brought her hatred of them into sharp focus. She shivered, partly from fear of what she intended to do, yet from exhilaration too.

‘One more step,’ Reuben said, still covering Zoë’s eyes and nudging her forward. ‘There!’ he exclaimed as he whipped his hand away.

‘Wow!’ Zoë said predictably, turning round a full circle to look at where she’d been brought. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Susan smiled. She could sense the girl wasn’t that impressed, she made no secret of the fact that she wasn’t the outdoors sort, and perhaps she was already tiring of her cranky, middle-aged lover who was never going to show her the kind of good times she hankered for.

He looked his age that day, despite the new sweatshirt. His long hair had grown almost white in the last two years, and it was receding fast at his forehead. But it was the gauntness of his face Susan noticed most. Time had caught up with him while he was trying to keep up with someone half his age, and his skin looked grey and his facial lines much deeper.

‘You should have worn a dress,’ Reuben said. ‘You’d look like a wood nymph then. Why don’t you take your clothes off?’

Zoë giggled. ‘It’s too cold for that,’ she said. ‘Let’s have some of that whisky while you roll a joint.’

Susan could sense Reuben’s disappointment that Zoë wasn’t more ecstatic about his special place. She didn’t go over to the escarpment to look at the view, nor did she gasp with pleasure at the bluebells under the trees. She just pulled the rug off his shoulder, saying her feet ached and she wanted to sit down.

Reuben unrolled the rug and laid it out almost exactly where Susan had thought he would. He sat down by her and passed a bottle of whisky to her from the basket. She unscrewed the top and took a long swig.

For Susan, it was like watching a film in slow motion. They weren’t saying much, Reuben intent on rolling a joint, Zoë lying on her side, propped up on one elbow watching him.

‘Where do you reckon the old bat’s gone to then?’ Zoë asked suddenly. Susan knew she was referring to her.

‘Back to Bristol, I expect,’ Reuben replied.

‘I hope you don’t think I’m going to do the cleaning and the cooking,’ Zoë said petulantly. ‘That’s not my scene.’

‘You’re too beautiful for such menial tasks,’ he said, passing her the lighted joint. ‘I’ll get someone else in to do it.’

‘If it were me, I’d sell the place,’ she said, taking a deep draw and exhaling slowly. ‘Let’s face it, Reub, they’re a load of wankers, and with the money you got, we could live like royalty in Thailand.’

‘I’ve got a good little business going,’ he said defensively. ‘Besides, I love it here.’

Well, I can’t promise I’ll stay with you then,’ she said with a toss of her hair. ‘It’s so remote. I like bars, clubs and shops.’

Susan began to feel a little sorry for Reuben then, for she knew just how much he loved Wales. He wasn’t going to find happiness with Zoë after all. He would get punishment enough when she moved on, and Hill House collapsed around him. Perhaps she didn’t need to do it, she found herself thinking. Maybe she should just wait for him to get his natural justice.

But she was stuck behind the bush. If she moved away they would hear her.

Zoë seemed to mellow after the joint and more whisky. She lay back on the rug and remarked on the sun coming through the bare branches above. Then, without any prompting from Reuben, she unzipped her leather trousers and began wriggling out of them.

‘Give me some sexual healing, then,’ she said with a giggle. ‘A good hour of licking my fanny will do for starters.’

Susan found herself blushing as Zoë peeled off a pair of black knickers, opened her legs wide and parted the lips of her vagina. She couldn’t believe that any woman could be so dirty and crude. It was worse than embarrassing, she found it deeply shaming. Liam had introduced her to oral sex, but it had taken her quite some time to overcome her shock that any man would want to do such a thing. She had come to love it eventually, for Liam was a persuasive and skilful lover. But even so, she could never bring herself to indulge in it in broad daylight, and she would certainly never have had the effrontery to demand it.

Something else took her over entirely as Reuben knelt between Zoë’s knees and obliged all too willingly. Susan was squirming with embarrassment, yet rooted to the spot with horrified fascination. Reuben was slobbering over her, Susan could see his tongue running up and down the length of Zoë’s vagina, and after a short while he had to unzip his jeans to release his penis, which was rock-hard.

Zoë was shouting out the most filthy things, she called him Daddy and urged him to finger-fuck her at the same time. It was disgusting, and Susan felt they were desecrating the beautiful glade where she had felt so happy and at peace. She watched in ever-increasing revulsion as Zoë got on to her knees, pushed Reuben down and then sat on his face, writhing herself into his mouth, at the same time massaging her own breasts.

All at once, the full force of Susan’s anger came back, stronger than ever. She had lost her home, her friends and everything for the sake of this trollop. Incandescent with rage, she watched their indecent behaviour, incensed that Reuben had wanted that more than her loving support.