I take a black velvet Versace dress from the rail, one I bought for my last birthday, egged on by Edward, and pack it neatly.
I try to guess what the tone of their celebrations might be, and pack some more casual items too. It’s impossible to know what the other Holbeck women might wear over this short but no doubt telling visit. This Christmas invitation feels like a kind of Balmoral test. A test to weed out those who fit in with the family and those who do not. If I manage to match some unspoken codes, hell, if I manage to survive, then perhaps they will accept me as one of them.
Christmas seems to have become the final stage of a Holbeck test triptych that I didn’t know I was signing up for: Thanksgiving, Krampusnacht, Christmas. Each one, I’m guessing, progressively harder than the last.
Finally, I pack the claret jumpsuit I wore for Thanksgiving and three dressy outfits, then I add shoes and call it a day. I have bigger fish to fry. I need to listen to the rest of Robert’s tape, but I can’t do that with Edward in the house.
I listen for Edward still busying himself along the hall. If I want to listen, I’ll need to do it away from the apartment, even though leaving the safety of the building means potentially being followed again. The man with the baseball cap springs to mind. While I made sure I wasn’t followed the day I went to meet Samantha, I was in the car and that made it somehow easier. I deliberately wound through the streets of Manhattan before I headed for the Lincoln Tunnel. I could take the car again but I would have to think of a reason to tell Edward now that he’s back. No, I’d better go on foot – I just need to go somewhere the man with the baseball cap can’t follow.
Somewhere where men aren’t allowed.
The first place that comes to mind is my gym, and the female-only changing rooms. Going to the gym isn’t going to raise any alarms and there are lockable stalls there. I could listen in safety.
I grab my gym bag and swim things from the closet and slip on my sneakers before retrieving the tape player from under the mattress.
Edward’s head pokes out of the bathroom as I make my way to the front door and raise my gym bag in explanation. Toothbrush in mouth, he gives me a cheerful thumbs up as I head out the door.
The desire to slip on my headphones and start listening as soon as I leave the building is almost too much, but I hold off. I need my wits about me until I can get somewhere where I can’t be disturbed. Robert’s confession isn’t an interesting podcast to be listened to on the go – the future of my family entirely depends on the words on that cassette.
I swipe through the turnstiles at the gym, heading straight for the female changing rooms, which I find, thankfully, empty. I slip into a cubicle, lock the door and plop down onto the cubicle bench. After a moment of welcome silence, I pull my gym bag onto my lap, unzip it, and retrieve its precious cargo. I take a breath and shuffle into a more comfortable position, then flip the tiny cassette over onto the B side, slide the headphones on and press play.
31 The Tape
Part 3
Before we discuss the future – and what it holds for us – I want you to be in full possession of the facts. The body count, if you will.
Bobby started this story. He jumped.
Then Lucy had to go.
Then Alison. And Gianna.
Gianna was the easiest. Her family accepted the version of events presented to them. Their daughter was like that, you see: hard to manage. It was only a matter of time, they concluded, before something like that happened. And accidents do happen. Losing friends can be hard. But I digress.
The point is, if one does one’s homework, people can disappear with surprising ease. It is possible to briefly come into contact with someone and make them slip out of the everyday flow of life. Subtly, ambiguously, conveniently. Gone.
Not your chosen technique for ending a life, I know, Harriet. And while I have never tried your fire-and-brimstone approach, I can see its warm allure. Forgive me if I am being facetious.