Consequences Read online

  ‘You okay Mrs Reynolds?’ said the postman, who towered over her as he held out a pile of junk mail. ‘I thought I heard you shout.’

  Liz swallowed hard as she closed her eyes tight. A wave of nausea and a hot flush ran through her body. ‘I’m fine, just fine,’ said Liz, her heart in her mouth. ‘I’ve just broken a nail,’ she said, as she stood up and offered the postman her hand, which displayed her own nail, which was lifted slightly and bleeding under the nail bed. He took it in his.

  ‘It’s not going blue, I’m sure you’ll live,’ he said, kindly.

  ‘But, you’re as white as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. You sure you’re okay? Can I get you a drink of water?’ he said, holding her by the elbow and guiding her to the bench beside the front door.

  ‘No I’m fine, honestly.’ She smiled, reassuringly taking her mail from him.

  ‘Well, if you’re certain,’ he said as he retreated down the driveway backwards, unconvinced by her reply.

  Twenty minutes later, nail stuck back on, door key in the cupboard and case on the doorstep, she locked the front door. Liz couldn’t count how many times she’d struggled with the very same case, bulging with clothes, when she was going on holiday, as she threw it, empty, into the boot of the car. But this was no holiday. She checked in her bag for her passport and ID for the bank, as she paused at her open car door. The blackmailer thought how very lovely she looked in her designer, beige, two-piece suit. She locked the doors immediately, although she was sure no one was watching her, and with butterflies in her stomach, she set off.

  A warm blast of air emerged from the bank as she walked through the doors but as she strolled through the foyer, a welcome rush of air conditioning blew in her face, sweeping her hair up from her sweating neck. She headed for the sign saying customer services that hung above a desk, pulling the suitcase behind her. Liz was sure people could hear the blood pumping through her veins. She could feel it gushing through her heart and hammering in her chest. The noises in the bank echoed as if the room was a hollow capsule and although her trolley glided silently across the floor, the heels of her shoes clicked on the marble. She licked her perfectly pouted lips and brushed away the sweat beads that she could feel appearing on her eyebrows; glad for her Estee Lauder Double Wear stay-in-place make-up. Moments later she was in the manager’s office. It was a great relief when she was told that Mr Beckwith was away for the day on a course, but had left the paperwork ready for her to sign. She sat staring at the money as if in a trance, as it was counted and placed into her suitcase. The deputy manager was a young man, fussing over a lady who could afford to draw £500,000 from the bank in cash.

  ‘Security – wise, are you okay Mrs Reynolds?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said. ‘I have an escort outside.’

  All he needed was three signatures and the deed was done.

  Liz had never been so happy to see a traffic warden at her car in her life as she emerged from the bank. The sight of the uniform settled her nerves, as she unlocked the boot with the loud beep of her remote key, which flashed the car’s lights, making the warden flinch.

  ‘Nice car, lady,’ he said, resting his hand upon the roof.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said coyly, as he moved towards her to help her lift the cash laden case. She suddenly had the notion he might be the blackmailer; she hadn’t got a ticket, there was no mention of yellow lines, - was he protecting his money?

  ‘Wouldn’t mind one of these myself,’ he said, stroking the paintwork of the car lovingly. ‘But on my wages I’ll be a long time waiting.’ He grinned a toothless smile, as he tapped the top of the closed boot and walked on.

  Sitting in the driver’s seat with the doors locked, she sighed with relief. She looked round, was he still watching? She had the notion someone was, but from where she had no idea. ‘Larry hadn’t mentioned he’d have a tail on me but surely he would have,’ she thought as she feverishly glanced in her mirror. Whoever the blackmailer was he could have the bloody money; good riddance, as long as he left them alone. Fleetingly she worried she’d have no option but to tell Malcolm on her next visit. He would go mental, but the wardens would be there, so she knew he couldn’t hurt her, and right now the blackmailer could.

  At this moment in time Malcolm was definitely the lesser of two evils, she shuddered.

  Liz pulled onto the driveway, slowly scanning her garden, but nothing seemed untoward. Stopping the car as near to the front door as possible, she turned off the engine. In the comfort and security of the locked car she sat still, craning her neck to see if there was any sign of life inside the house, but there were no twitches of curtains or a face at the window. If Larry was inside, thankfully he was keeping out of sight. She climbed out of the car, walked quickly round to open the boot, and struggled to lift out the case. Slamming the boot shut with one hand and pulling the case handle out with the other she took quick, short steps to the front door.

  Liz leaned the small of her back against the inside of the bolted door. She was shaking, but a warm flood of relief washed over her. She closed her eyes, putting her hand to her mouth. Thank God that was over. Her phone beeped, the text said, ‘Bring the case to the bedroom.’

  What did he think she was? she thought to herself, as she fought to drag it up the stairs.

  Larry was sprawled out on the bed, a large holdall by his side. He didn’t know if she was being watched but he was gambling that the blackmailer was only following her enough to make sure his demands were met, and today wasn’t one of those days. Blackmailers, in Larry’s experience, used the fear factor. He wasn’t too concerned but wouldn’t be stupid either: he was prepared for every eventuality.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said grinning, as he saw the look on her face. ‘I’m not moving in. It’s just some gear to enable me to mark and photograph the money in case he gets away with it.’

  ‘He won’t, will he?’

  ‘Oh no, will he heck. So for God’s sake smile, woman. Blackmailing goes on all the time.’

  Liz managed a nervous grin in spite of the situation. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Are you gonna mark it now?’ she said, reaching for the zip.

  ‘Later,’ he said, reaching for her hand and pulling her towards him.

  ‘Look, you’re doing really well,’ he said.

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Yeah, and hopefully the money will be back in the account before you know it,’ he said, as he nuzzled her hair. ‘You’ll be able to tell Mr bank manager that you didn’t need it after all. He’s not going to mind now, is he? Women change their minds all the time don’t they?’

  ‘Oh Larry, do you really think so? Just think no more threats.’ She sighed into his chest; at least she had someone to share the burden with. ‘I’m so frightened.’

  His hands started to wander from her waist to her bottom. She pushed him away gently, the last thing she wanted to do was upset him.

  ‘I’m starving, aren’t you?’ she called, her voice sounding more cheery than she felt, as she made her way towards the stairs. ‘I haven’t managed to eat yet today. Do you want anything?’ It was true, she was feeling light headed. Yes, it was an excuse to get away from his clutches, but she knew she was only stalling the inevitable and before that she needed a drink.

  Larry wasn’t in a hurry; he knew he had all night.

  ‘A sandwich would be nice. Tell you what I could do with though...a drink,’ he said, strolling down the stairs, passing the windows with a cautionary glance.

  ‘Coffee, tea?’ she said, getting the bread out of the breadbin.

  ‘Anything stronger, a beer?’ he said, popping his head around the kitchen door.

  ‘Thanks Larry. I mean it,’ she said, as she took a can from the fridge and walked over to him. She took a gulp of white wine. ‘I’m really grateful. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  ‘What’re friends for eh?’ he said, slapping her backside gently. She cringed.

  Larry was tempted to op
en the case and have a look at the money.

  ‘Five hundred grand, five hundred grand,’ he whispered. As he sat down on the bed he noticed that the light had began to fail. A slither of lamp light shone directly on the case, from the landing, through the doorway. Liz walked in with a tray of sandwiches, more cans and a bottle of wine. She placed the tray on the bed between them and took off her jacket. The white blouse beneath moulded to her body. Larry gulped his beer from the can. He wasn’t particularly listening as Liz talked; he had other things on his mind. Was she wearing stockings? She always used to. Occasionally he gave her a sympathetic nod and grunt as she chatted away. He decided; he wouldn’t invite her on his holiday; she talked too much.

  ‘I don’t remember you being such a good listener,’ Liz said, as she refilled her glass. They’d had the most amazing sex in the past, she recalled, pulling herself closer to him. In her drink induced fuzzy haze, he looked decidedly handsome. Confusingly, he didn’t respond to her advances though, and she was still sober enough to feel clumsy and foolish. But it was just Larry’s game.

  ‘Can I get you anything else?’

  ‘Pass me another can.’ He kicked off his shoes and eased himself up onto the pillows. He would make her wait just a short while longer, and then he knew she’d be gagging for it. He might as well enjoy himself. After all, he was doing her a big favour, he thought, as he watched her totter out of the room in her stocking feet.

  Giggling, Liz stumbled back into the bedroom from the ensuite. The wine had undoubtedly gone straight to her head.

  ‘Having a nap, eh?’ she slurred.

  ‘No...thought I’d make myself comfy. It’s gonna be a long night.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she said nonchalantly, sitting on the foot of the bed and rubbing his bare feet. He could feel the sexual tension between them.

  ‘You could always come up here,’ he patted the bed beside him. ‘Can’t promise I’d behave though,’ he said.

  ‘I just think I might do that. Sitting on the edge of the bed gives me backache’ she said, stretching. ‘Move over.’ She finished her wine and placed the glass on the bedside cabinet.

  They lay next to each other, silently looking up at the ceiling. ‘It wasn’t as if they were strangers to each other was it,’ she thought. But then again, it had been a while. Liz’s skirt rose up her leg as she bent her knees and the slit in the side showed off her suspenders in all their glory. Not one for missing opportunities, Larry propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her face. Her smile was the only invitation he needed to find her lips, and his hand crept between her legs and rested at the top of her stockings. Within seconds they were both naked, clawing, biting and scratching each other’s bodies, as if punishing each other for the situation they found themselves in.

  ‘I didn’t realise how much I needed that,’ panted Liz, as she touched her damp brow with the back of her hand. They’d both used each other, there was no doubt. Was it the alcohol or the circumstances? Neither of them knew. What they did know was that it was pure lust, and for an instant Liz hadn’t thought about the blackmail. Tears stung hot in Liz’s eyes and ran down the sides of her face, wetting her ears and running onto the pillow.

  ‘I feel so guilty now, I should be thinking about Gemma.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve done nothing wrong,’ he said, leaning over and grabbing another can.

  The phone rang and Liz’s face froze. She lifted the receiver, sighing with relief as she heard Gemma chatter on gaily. About school, Gran had made her jelly, they were going to watch a DVD with Gramps when she was ready for bed.

  ‘After the past few days you needed some comfort,’ Larry said, when she’d said goodbye and blew kisses down the phone to her daughter.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said, trying to snuggle up close to him; but the moment had passed.

  ‘I really do need a shower,’ she said, rolling off the bed and stumbling to her feet. Larry swigged his beer, nonchalantly.

  Her absence gave him the perfect opportunity to take a coveted look. His eyes nearly fell out of his head as he stared at the wads notes. He was stunned; he’d never seen so many fifty pound notes. Hearing the shower stop, he closed the case slowly and quietly tiptoed back to the bed. She didn’t return to the bedroom immediately.

  With her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a soft towelling dressing gown, she toured the house, checking all the curtains were closed properly before switching on the lamps. She decided she’d leave the lights on all night. In the kitchen she drew the blind and started to prepare pasta. She was still hungry and she was sure Larry wouldn’t say no to some hot food. She could hear the shower and wondered about the sleeping arrangements. Should she sleep with him? It made no difference now. What would tomorrow bring? She hoped and prayed for an end to it all.

  Refreshed and wearing Malcolm’s dressing gown, Larry checked all the curtains were drawn, before he ventured through the hallway and into the kitchen. He watched Liz opening another bottle of wine.

  ‘Not for me thanks, I need to keep a clear head and I’ll have to get started on photographing the money.’

  ‘Please yourself,’ she replied with a shrug, swaying slightly. ’I need it for my nerves, purely medicinal. If it’s okay with you I’ll probably go up and watch TV in my room after dinner. You okay using the back bedroom?’

  ‘No probs.’ Larry was ecstatic. He’d decided what he was going to do. There was no need to mark or photograph the money, and this way he didn’t need to waste his time keeping up the pretence.

  Liz was tucked up in her bedroom, her television loud enough for the street to hear, and she was still drinking. Larry placed his camera on the floor for authenticity if she should come in, removed the old law books he’d brought with him in his holdall and started to replace them with the money. He put the money to his cheek and ran it under his nostrils, smelling the crisp, clean notes. He took a wad and put it in his wallet. Covering the cash with a change of clothes, he zipped up the holdall. He then placed the books in the case; he wasn’t going to need them where he was going. Sweat bubbled on his brow, and ran down the side of his face. He wiped it with the back of his hand. Once the contents had been switched, he lifted the holdall and the case. The case felt a bit heavier, but she wouldn’t be any wiser.

  ‘Cheers Liz, cheers Mal,’ he whispered, as he raised another can to his lips and drained the contents. He walked back along the landing to the main bedroom where Liz was laying down; the flickering light from the TV shone on her body and from the doorway and he could see her clutching the neck of the wine bottle beside her. She was asleep. A glass full of wine sat on her bedside table. He picked it up, surveyed her semi-naked frame and gulped the bitter liquid from her glass. He shivered. Slowly he took off the dressing gown and he laid on top of her, entering her body whilst she lay in a drunken stupor. He wasn’t concerned about her, he was just satisfying himself; he could do anything he wanted now. Spent and satisfied, he flopped beside her on the bed. He’d set the alarm on his mobile for four thirty a.m. and pulled the duvet up over him. He needed to be away early. He didn’t need Liz anymore, in fact he didn’t need anyone.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘What the?’ Larry’s mobile beeped, insistent of attention. He pulled himself unwillingly from his slumber. The TV was the only source of light in the darkened room but it was bright enough for him to see.

  He raised himself onto his elbow and turned off the alarm.

  ‘What time is it?’ Liz mumbled in sleepy confusion; her head pounded as if a pneumatic drill was drilling inside. Her body ached, feeling battered, bruised and sore. She tried to moisten her lips with her tongue, and wiped the saliva from the side of her mouth.

  ‘It’s early,’ Larry said, flopping back onto the pillow. He stared, wide eyed, silent for a moment, watching the patterns the TV’s light made on the ceiling. ‘I’ve set a dye capsule inside the case, so whatever you do, don’t open it.

  ‘Why should I open it?’ she sai
d, turning to face him, lines furrowing her brow.

  ‘Well, just in case he asks you to transfer it to his bag. The blackmailer won’t know about the capsule, but let’s say he’ll struggle to use any of the money after he’s opened the case.’ Larry held his breath, waiting for her reaction. Had she bought his lie?

  He needn’t have worried; it took Liz all her time to focus on moving her body, let alone think straight. Using the mattress for support, she levered herself from the bed and hobbled unsteadily to the bathroom.

  ‘I’ll leave before it gets light,’ Larry said. ‘You must text me as soon as he rings you with your instructions. We’ll have this all sorted today, don’t worry.’ Not getting a response, he jumped out of bed, sneaked up behind her and grabbed her round her waist as she brushed her teeth. ‘I’ll be back for my thank-you’s’ later.’ He leered at her in the mirror. She spat out the toothpaste and, holding onto the sink, she closely inspected her swollen lips in the mirror. Her eye ball ached. How’d she got those bruises, she wondered, as she gently touched her face?

  Thirty minutes later, Larry picked up his holdall. He had no intention of letting it out of his sight from now on. Draining his coffee cup as he stood at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, his heart beat fast as he shouted his goodbye. Was it the caffeine that caused the palpitations or the excitement?

  The suitcase was stood at the bottom of the stairs. Liz could see it from the gallery landing. She headed for the shower. The water was hot, powerful and searching as it pierced every pore of her body. She let the force hammer her aching bones and sensitive skin as she washed herself in the moisture rich foam. The water rinsed away the suds and in the bright light she could see the red marks that were prominent on her skin. Towelling her hair, she tried to erase the heavy ache inside.