I swallow thickly, under layers of panic, and find my voice but it’s shakier than my legs. ‘Just let Ada go and then we can pack a bag and leave together. You and me. We’ll go to New Zealand just like you said.’
Jack is sweating, breathing heavily, his bare chest heaving. He looks barbaric. This close, I see blood matted in his blond curls, little rivers of scarlet running from his temple. In the hard granite of his face, I see a fire raging within him.
‘Once Ada is gone, we can start our new lives together,’ I say in placating tones. This strikes a chord with Jack, who appraises me with interest and maybe a thread of understanding. I’m getting through to him. He’s weighing up his options. I’m offering him what he wants: me. Willingly. It’s all he’s ever wanted. ‘If you let Ada g—’ I stop myself, knowing if I push this point too hard, he will buck against it. Jack doesn’t like to be told what to do. Thinking fast, I backtrack, reword. ‘We can pack a bag … or … or not, we can buy new things. We can get in your car right now and go, just the two of us; it doesn’t matter where, as long as we’re together. You and me. It’s all I want,’ I lie. ‘Come on, Jack.’ I smile like we are lovers planning a trip. ‘How far will you go?’
I hold my breath, waiting for him to decide. Seconds bleed into minutes. Sweat collects in the hollow of my collarbone.
‘Okay,’ he says simply, releasing Ada’s arm from behind her back.
The relief is treacle-thick and so sweet, I get a head-rush: he’s going to let her go. I, on the other hand, have committed the rest of my life to a murderer if the police don’t get here soon. This realisation is a chaser so bitter, I feel sick.
‘You’re right.’ His voice is buttery smooth and eerily calm. ‘We’re going to leave. Just us two. Change our names.’
Ada opens her mouth to argue but I give her a look, imploring her to keep quiet before she gets herself killed.
‘You’re right, Fray.’ His smile is the last swirl of sunlight before an eclipse, when everything goes dark. And my heart beats so fast in response, it might shake me to death. ‘With Ada gone, we can start over.’
I’m repeating his words, trying to work out the wrongness of them. I’m not prepared for his quickness. In one, swift movement, he pulls the knife from his jeans pocket, flips it open and thrusts it into Ada’s back.
She arches.
Agony and fear and shock. I see it all on her face.
The sound she makes is horrid – gurgling like an emptying drain.
I cannot scream. Cannot breathe.
Cannot save my sister.
Jack flings her down the stairs with bone-breaking force. I hear her tumble from top to bottom, landing with a dull thud.
In his face is thrill and satisfaction, but no remorse. Not even a drop.
I see myself in slow motion, leaning over the banister, my sharp intake of breath as I stare down at her body – she is all strange angles, face down like a collapsed marionette.
Jack doesn’t stop me as I rush past him and down the stairs. I fall to my knees beside her. Blood soaks the fabric of her blush pink jumper in a swell of livid red. The coppery tang of it is so heavy in the air, I taste it. She isn’t moving. I push her hair back from her face and touch the clammy-grey of her skin. My heart catches in panic as I place two trembling fingers to the side of her neck. I’m looking for a pulse but I’ve never done this before, I don’t know how. I must be doing it wrong because there’s nothing there. I can’t feel … I can’t …
‘No,’ I whisper. ‘No, no, no, no.’
Jack’s heavy footfalls cut across my pleading as he slowly descends. He’s whistling a tune I know, but my brain is so fogged I can’t …
I lay my palms flat on Ada’s back, checking for the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing. But she is so still. Too still. Panicked, without thinking, I wrap my hand around the hilt of the knife and pull it free. Blood gushes.
‘Oh fuck, oh god.’ I drop it and press my hand to the wound on her lower back. Warm blood squelches between my fingers. I shouldn’t have removed the knife or maybe … I need to … to … but I can’t think over Jack’s incessant whistling. It’s a nursery rhyme. Unbidden, the words float into my brain.
Jack and Jill went up the hill/ To fetch a pail of water/ Jack fell down and broke his crown/ And Jill came tumbling after …
I turn on him. ‘Shut up! Shut. Up.’
‘She’s gone.’