New Beginnings by Michelle Blackwell
Rick paused, his hand on the doorknob, breathing in a slow, deep and deliberate breath. He knew, just knew, the way you sometimes do, deep in your guts, that the next few minutes were going to have an immense bearing on the rest of his life.
He’d left for work that morning, calling out goodbye to Sarah who was running late as usual, taking the odd bite of toast whilst blow-drying her long brown hair. To be honest, he’d expected her to switch off the hairdryer immediately and demand to know what was wrong but he must have sounded far more normal than he felt because the dryer kept up its continuous buzz, not pausing for a second as she called back her own farewell.
This idea of his, to come home early on their Wedding Anniversary pretending it was a nice surprise for her, had been festering in his brain for the last few weeks. It was an idea he’d tried to push away as ridiculous. He should trust his wife and coming home early purely in the hope of catching her out; that didn’t exactly scream trust to him. But something was wrong, and as much as Sarah denied it, Rick knew whatever it was, it wasn’t getting any better. He’d tried talking to her, of course he had, but she shut him down every time, insisting she was just tired, that was all, that he was imagining things, but Sarah had been distracted, almost cold towards him for the last few months. Perhaps she was “just tired”. After all, her new job in the local estate agents was busy and time consuming. Rick was surprised how many evening viewings people booked, even at weekends, meaning Sarah was often not home until after 10pm. No wonder she was tired and sometimes grumpy.
Then last week Rick had been at home, flicking through the tv channels. Sarah was working late again, when the phone rang. Now that in itself had been pretty unusual. Sarah had been saying for ages that they might as well get rid of the land line. No one ever rang them on it, and you could guarantee that if it did ring, it would be someone asking about a car accident you’d not had or advising that HMRC were chasing you for unpaid tax. Rick swiftly picked up the receiver, already expecting to slam it back down just as fast.
A man’s voice “Hello? Can I speak to Sarah Jones please?
Rick paused, slightly taken aback; the nuisance calls didn’t generally ask for someone by name.
“Hello? I need to speak to Sarah”
“Sorry, she’s not here at the moment. Can I help”?
“Are you her husband?”
“Yes”
“Poor you”
And the call was disconnected.
“Hello? Hello?”
Just a faint hum on the line. Rick wasn’t usually one for suspecting the worst and he appreciated that one strange phone call didn’t mean his wife couldn’t be trusted but still, he could not shake that niggle.
So here he was, hand trembling slightly as he pushed open the door and looked down at a clump of grass on his doormat. A small clump of grass. That’s all it was but off went those inner alarm bells again. Sarah was borderline fanatical about keeping the house clean, comes from looking round show homes she said and muddy shoes were definitely not to be worn inside. As Rick stepped to one side to avoid the grass, the door ripped from his hand and slammed shut, the way it did when the back door was open. Sarah must be here, he thought. Unless I’ve timed coming home early with being burgled?
Out of habit, he bent and began to untie his shoelaces.
“Rick! What are you doing home?”
Rick jumped violently. His wife had suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway, looking flushed and breathing heavily.
“Jeeeesus Sarah, you scared the crap out of me. What am I doing home? What are you doing home? And what in God’s name are you wearing?”
Sarah flushed even redder, plucking distractedly at her very revealing outfit.
“Oh Rick, you’re spoiling everything. Why today of all days did you have to come home early?”
“It’s our anniversary, or had you forgotten?
Sarah smiled. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten. But I’m afraid you’ve caught me red handed”
Rick’s stomach flipped. He knew it. Every suspicion and uncertainty came hurtling at him, one after another, relentlessly, each one worse than the last. He staggered slightly, put a hand up against the wall. He knew it, knew he’d been right to suspect Sarah, to follow his gut instinct.
“Well, you’d better tell me everything. Maybe starting with why you’re at home and why you’re wearing that”?
Sarah looked down at the tiny cut off shorts and vest top she was wearing. She held out her hand towards Rick, a very muddy hand.
“Happy wedding anniversary my love. I’ve been trying to keep it secret and it’s not quite finished but now you’re home early I may as well come clean and show you what I’ve been working on these last few months. I know you’ve always wanted your own little garden patch, somewhere to potter around and a shed to hang out in, just like your Dad used to. The bit of garden down behind the apple trees was perfect and I knew I’d be able to work without you seeing or suspecting me, I’m perfectly hidden by the trees down there. I’ve been building and digging, there’s a runner bean patch and a raised bed for veggies, an area for flowers, a shed with a chair and a radio. Oh Ricky, I hope you like it!”
Rick looked at his wife ruefully. He was such an idiot, always had been. He didn’t deserve a wife as great as Sarah. How could he ever think she was being unfaithful? All this time she’d been working on this for him. The bunch of flowers he’d brought home with him was starting to look completely inadequate.
“Ricky? Say something! You’re just staring at me”
“I’m so sorry, my darling girl. I’m just stood here wondering what I did to deserve someone as special as you. It all sounds amazing. Can we go and have a look”?
Sarah abruptly dropped her hand back to her side. “Well, yes, of course we can, but give me another half an hour? Just so I can tidy up a bit. It’s so nearly finished and I want you to see it at its absolute best. How about you go and have a shower and get changed out of your work clothes. Then go and mix us both one of your special G and T’s that I love so much. I’ll come back and get you in a bit. That sound ok”?
“Sounds perfect. I’ll be waiting. And Sarah”?
“Yes Ricky?”
“Thank you. I love you”
“I know you do and I love you too. I know I’ve been moody lately. I was just tired from working so hard on this. I desperately wanted to get it ready in time. Here’s to new beginnings in our little patch”
Sarah blew him a kiss and twirled round out into the garden, leaving Ricky feeling like a complete idiot as he slowly made his way upstairs.
Sarah looked at the scene before her. She hadn’t lied about any of it. There really was a lovely little vegetable patch complete with shed. The hole she’d dug for the base of shed had been the worse bit, really back breaking work. She’d been in tears at least a few evenings, certain she was never going to be able to dig it big enough. Who knew that burying a body would be such hard work? Even though Danny was lean, he was also tall, well over 6ft and that meant the grave she’d dug was pretty much the same size as the concrete base she had to lay for the shed. She could have folded him in half but he’d been dead a few days by the time she’d worked it all out and the smell was pretty ripe so opening up the sheet he was wrapped in didn’t appeal to her at all. She could have cut him up, it did cross her mind but she wasn’t a complete psychopath! Stabbing someone who’d become a liability was one thing, but dismembering them?? That was a step too far. She did think it had been a genius idea of hers to hide the body in the garage of the unoccupied house she was selling until the hole, should she call it the grave? She guessed so, was ready. It had been a simple task to transfer the body (she couldn’t bring herself to refer to the body as Danny anymore, not now he was dead). Funny she could be squeamish about words after all she’d done. Dragging the body on plastic sheeting from the car at the end of their garden to the hole had been the most dangerous time, the moment when she could have been seen but the lane was neither well used nor well-lit and there were no neighbours close enough to overlook them. The men from the builder’s yard where she’d hired a cement mixer had been so helpful, advising her on the exact mix needed for a concrete base and once she’d poured nearly 20 mixers full of thick glutinous concrete over Danny, she was certain she was going to get away with it. Danny had no one to blame but himself for how this had ended. He should never have become jealous and angry, threatening to tell Ricky all about their affair, the meticulous planning of her evening appointments so they could meet in secret at whatever empty house she had on her books. It had been easier than she thought to slowly push a filleting knife into his heart. It didn’t even make much mess. She’d got the idea from watching Game of Thrones. There was an unlimited source of ideas on how to murder someone on that show. And now Danny had been dealt with, she was free to meet Simon from the Bristol office. If he caused her any problems the same way as Danny had, she was already thinking a little summerhouse might be her next project. But she hoped not. Not yet anyway. Simon was much better looking than Danny but thankfully, not as tall. She was looking forward to a summer of fun with him. Wiping her hands on a towel, she threw it on the small bonfire beside her. As the towel caught, the flames surged upwards in a dark twisting plume of smoke, the last trace of the wallet and phone she’d taken from Danny’s body disappearing with it.
She was looking forward to a large G and T. God knows she deserved it.
Recipes
Written by Michelle Blackwell
I worked as a sign maker for many years but sold my business to spend more time with my teenagers (mainly as a taxi service) and to do more things I want to do rather than have to. I've always read prolifically but not really written much since I was a kid. I'm loving this opportunity to go back to doing something I used to love.