Chapter 7
-Anna-
The wheels of the taxi crunched over the gravel drive of the Kielder cottage. Finally, she had arrived. Anna threw some money at the driver and got out. She breathed in the air. Scented, smelling of pine leaves. She coughed. It was clearly too pure for her, she thought with a smirk. She dragged one of the wheeled bags across the gravel, sending the stones flying in all directions, as the driver struggled with the larger bags behind her. The doll fell onto the ground again. Stupid thing. What was it called? Esmerelda? Hetty? Christina Columbus? Who knew, who cared? It was in her path to the door. She stepped over it. It could wait.
Anna took out the key Kate had given her. She placed it firmly into the keyhole and turned. She pushed open the door. Or rather, she tried to, but there was some post obstructing it. Great big brown envelopes, probably some of the work stuff Kate had been going on about. Anna kicked it out of the way. And then, she was in. The inner sanctum. She began to walk round the room, inhaling it. A masculine scent pervaded it. She smiled. Good to be picking up those small details so quickly. Anna stroked the arm of the sofa as she passed it. Not bad. Comfortable, chenille. She could imagine curling up there with someone. She turned her gaze to the mantelpiece. A photo of Neil. Her eyes lingered. Kate was in the photo too, though. That would have to go – how was Anna supposed to pretend she lived here if Kate’s face was staring gormlessly out at her? She placed the photo face down. She could deal with it later.
She progressed through into the kitchen, touching the surfaces, opening the occasional cupboard, inspecting the fridge. Nothing special. Next, the bedroom. This would be more interesting. She took off her shoes before she entered, and stepping over the threshold allowed her toes to sink luxuriously into the shag-pile carpet, to absorb the footprints that had been there before hers. She went to the wardrobes. She found what appeared to be women’s clothes hanging next to a small collection of men’s clothes. This must be Kate and Neil’s wardrobe, she surmised. Anna leaned into the clothes, hugging them to her, breathing them in. Again, that smell. Did Kate understand how lucky she was to be married to that scent? Probably not. Anna moved to the bed, tried sitting down gingerly on the edge, then threw herself into the centre on her back, moving her legs and arms in a scissor formation over the bed. A snow angel, but with a duvet. A duvet angel. Anna laughed. Devil, more like it, some would say. After lying prone for a moment she swivelled back over onto her front. She saw a framed photo of Neil by the bedside. He would enjoy looking at her from there, she thought, her long hair tousled, cleavage on full display. She reached to pick up the photo of Neil and admired it. He looked good.
There was more to explore though, more to discover, before she could get fully into role. She needed to see it all, absorb every last detail. She went to the dressing table and looked in the drawers. Makeup. She placed it all onto the desk. Mostly unused. Clearly Kate felt happy with her natural beauty. Or else she was lazy. Personally, Anna preferred a glossier look where a man was at stake, but she could certainly take the minimalist route if that was required – she was more than confident with that. Anna regarded her face in the mirror appreciatively. She conjured up an image of Kate’s face in her mind and compared the two. Her own was clearly the fairer. She imagined Neil’s face appearing in the mirror. He would bend down and kiss a naked shoulder as makeup was being applied, perhaps a flirty squirt of perfume making him stand up again. Except, she observed, Kate did not appear to have any perfume, so that would not happen. They did things differently.
She tried the next drawer. Masculine this time. Cufflinks. But were they Neil’s or Kate’s? Anna laid them out neatly on the dressing table. They were shaped as ships and naked ladies. Neil’s, then. Delving further into the drawer she found some aftershave. Expensive, but unused – perhaps an unwanted present, or a replacement for what Neil already had. Anna opened it, tossing the shrink-wrap and the box onto the floor. She applied a small amount to her neck. After all, if he nuzzled her, as he may nuzzle Kate, that was where it would end up.
Anna softly drew her hands over the contents of the drawers now laid out on the table, caressing them, closing her eyes and just feeling the shape of the objects. Opening her eyes again, she stretched out her fingers, leaned back and exhaled. It was so good to finally be here, after all the planning, and the waiting, and the wanting. Every last detail, so precisely thought through. The wedding ring was a good touch. Kate really should have volunteered her own ring, but perhaps that was a bit too much to expect. Instead, Anna had bought a cheap gold band from Argos. It wasn’t much to look at, but what it symbolised was so much more important. She was here to be Mrs Neil Dixon, after all.
And as mistress of the house, she needed to know everything, she reminded herself. More rooms to see. Or at least one more room – she hadn’t found a bathroom yet and hadn’t fancied using the one on the train so the need to find it was rather urgent. Leaving the bedroom, she tried the next door. Bingo. She pulled the light cord. Avocado. Lovely. Not. Still, a decent size, and someone had invested in a Jacuzzi-style corner bath. Things could get pretty steamy in here, Anna guessed. She unzipped her trousers and sat down on the toilet seat, allowing her buttocks to press down firmly against the rim. Neil would have sat on here. It was good to be close to her ‘husband’. Kate probably would have sat there too though, and her ill father. This was a less appealing prospect. Anna changed position into a squat, hovering over the toilet instead as she peed.
Finished, flushing the chain and washing her hands with the twee hand soap that Kate had clearly put out for having a guest, she made her way back into the living room. She continued her exploration. There was a further double room. Rather drab. A couple of foam armchairs with flannel covers, an old divan covered with a brown bedspread and a brown blanket. Must be the dead man’s room. Dull. Anna tried to open the wardrobes. Locked. She pursed her lips – that was hardly the ‘access all areas’ they had agreed. She would have to jimmy them open later. Anna went back to the living room to explore it more thoroughly. She had noticed a desk in the corner of the room. She advanced towards it and tried the drawers. Again, locked. She tutted. Clearly finding a crowbar or similar implement was going to have to be high up on her to-do list.
She stretched and yawned. It could wait though. She wanted to relax first in her new home. She unpacked her very favourite sweatshirt – that sweatshirt – and put it on. Then she retrieved Neil’s photo from the bedroom and reclined on the sofa, using the television remote control to select what seemed to be a film version of Jane Eyre. Not thrilling, but it would do until children’s TV came on later. Some of their dramas were quite good. She plumped up a cushion and placed Neil’s photo on it, so that they could all sit down and watch the film together. Anna provided a running commentary on the film. Photo Neil did not respond. Perhaps he liked to watch films in silence. She stopped talking and snuggled up closer to him. She didn’t want to annoy him. Companionable silence would do just as well. All Anna needed now was some popcorn – she had everything else she wanted. Or very soon would do.
Chapter 8
-Kate-
Kate’s black cab pulled up outside the apartment block. She thanked the driver, let him keep the change (after they’d had such a nice chat it seemed a shame not to) and assembled all her luggage on the pavement. Once inside the building, she began the slow task of taking the bags upstairs in shifts, along with a big brown envelope addressed to Anna that was on the mat. She hoped it might be the first of the proofs that she would have to read, and by claiming the post she felt as though she was committing her first proper act as ‘Anna’. She wondered idly if the police would see it like that, or whether she would still technically have committed a crime by opening somebody else’s post. Deciding that you would substitute yourself for the addressee temporarily probably wasn’t enough to satisfy the law that you had the right to open their letters. But she had consent; they would accept that. She could open the mail without qualms