DEAR NEIGHBOUR: no boundary to murder by Anna Willett

Author:Anna Willett [Willett, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Book Folks thriller suspense and mystery publishers
Published: 2020-12-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-one

A parcel sat on the veranda. Not surprisingly he’d overlooked it the other day. Picking up the package and seeing Greta’s name on it was like a fresh stab of pain. For a while Frank just held the package trying to picture her with her glasses perched on her nose while placing an online order.

The image, while comforting, also hurt. Not because she was gone, although that was a well of sorrow so deep he feared there was no bottom, but because the parcel was a part of her. A part of her thoughts and actions. The last thing she’d ordered. Something that meant enough to her that she had to have it.

She’s gone. The words reverberated in his mind. Shock, heart failure, the doctors threw terms at him as if they had meaning when the only meaningful thing in his world was over.

Frank let himself in the house, still holding the package. Muscle memory moved him with no real thought or purpose. Close the front door, keys in the bowl on the hall stand, then take the parcel to the kitchen.

No, not the kitchen. He couldn’t face that room, not yet. Instead, he went to the sitting room and sank into the armchair. He set the parcel down on the side table, handling it as though it was as fragile as a sparrow’s egg.

His body ached with weariness. People talked about hurting, wrote songs about it, and poetry comparing loss to the splitting of one’s heart. He felt none of those things, only fear. The world and everything in it was harsh and foreign now and he was lost. That was the simplicity of loss.

His phone rang, its shrill the only sound in the empty house. Without bothering to answer, he pulled the phone out of his jacket and dismissed the call. He wanted oblivion, but for now sleep would have to do.

Upstairs, he peeled off his jacket and kicked off his shoes then fell into bed. Her scent was on the sheets, sweet and delicate. Closing his eyes, he imagined her there beside him before sleep came as a merciful blackout.

“That tree needs pruning, the branches are blocking out the light,” Greta said shaking the colander. “Just the low branches though, don’t go getting the ladder out.”

She was at the sink washing apricots, examining each piece of fruit before setting it on the chopping board. When she picked up the knife and started chopping, the blade looked disproportionally large in her hand. Frank wanted to warn her to use a smaller knife but for some reason he was sobbing.

“It’s all right, darling.” There was music and kindness in her voice while she chopped with furious speed. “Once I make the tart we’ll be free.”

He started to speak, but realised the apricots were rolling off the chopping board and bouncing across the kitchen floor, tumbling through a pool of dark liquid.

“Greta, don’t you see?” His voice was lost to the sound of the knife striking the board and the fruit pounding the floor.

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