“Sunday night. When you were on nights. He was in the utility room.”
And then: “He said after you dropped him off it would all be taken care of. He said it’d look like a gas leak.”
For days he had been telling me the water heater was playing up and that I was not to touch the valves. He said somebody was coming out. Nobody ever came.
And three weeks earlier he had talked me into a joint life policy for eight hundred and fifty thousand.
And he had been asking about my shift pattern, and about Nia’s school hours, and how quickly accidental-death claims pay out.
“Nia. Get down and stay out of sight.”
I went up into the multi-storey instead of going home and put the car where I could watch the terminal.
At twenty-nine minutes past seven those doors opened and Troy came out with no luggage.
He looked up and down the rank and got into a taxi.
My husband had never been going to Thornbury.
And a few seconds later my phone went.
***You two home yet? It’s cold today. Stick the heating on the second you’re in.***
I screenshotted it and sent the whole thread to my work email, and I shared my location with Fen, who is my dispatch partner, and then I followed that taxi.
Our house is in Lark Hollow, which is quiet, and which my late father helped us do up.
He put a motion light with its own recorder above the back patio in 2021 after somebody took a bike off the drive.
Troy laughed at him for it.
And my dad said: “A house doesn’t need a mouth to tell you who came through the door.”
When that taxi turned into the estate I parked two streets back and told Nia to keep her belt on.
And a few minutes later Troy came round the corner, not in his suit any more.
Old jacket. Work gloves. A red petrol can in one hand and a crowbar in the other.
And I stopped breathing.
Before I rang it in I rang his mother, in case she knew anything, and Chelo picked up on the first ring with one word.
“Troy?”
And when she worked out it was me her voice changed completely. “Mari? Aren’t you meant to be at work?”
And I asked whether he had rung her, and she said, almost in a whisper: “Take Nia and don’t complicate this. My son is under a lot of pressure.”
I had not told that woman anything.
