Like This, for Ever

4




ALONE ON THE rapidly dwindling beach, Dana walked to the water’s edge. Just over a year ago, when she’d moved to London from her native Scotland, she’d fallen in love with the river at night. She loved the way it curled its way between the buildings like a sleek black snake, mirroring only what was beautiful about the city – its lights, its architecture, its colour. Now, the spot around Tower Bridge would always remind her of two small, pale bodies, two boys who should have run squealing along this beach, not been carried from it in body bags. She took her phone from her pocket.

‘Hey,’ said a deep male voice with a South London accent.

‘Hi. Where are you?’

A pause. ‘Just in my car. Parked, not driving. What’s up?’

‘It was them. The Barlow twins. As we knew it would be, I suppose.’

A whispered curse. ‘You OK?’

‘I’m on my way to tell the parents. Mark, their mother …’

Another pause. ‘Want me to come?’

Dana smiled to herself, shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll be fine. What are you up to anyway?’

A sigh came down the line. ‘Dana, there are some things it’s better you don’t know.’

‘Enough said, I suppose.’

Silence.

‘What’s up?’

‘I shouldn’t say this,’ said Dana. ‘I wouldn’t to anyone else. I haven’t the faintest shred of—’

‘Dana, just say it.’

‘I think it’s a woman.’

Silence for a heartbeat, then, ‘Oh?’

‘No sexual abuse, Mark. No physical abuse of any kind, except the wound that kills them. Their bodies are perfect and we find them curled up like they’re asleep. Just looking at them – oh, I can’t explain it, but they inspire such love. I know it sounds stupid but I think the killer loves them, in her own way. I don’t think she wants to hurt them, I think she can’t help herself. I think maybe she lost her own son at that age, and something is making her re-enact it with proxies.’

‘Anything to back this up, other than what your gut is telling you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then the chances are you’re having the normal reaction of any woman your age confronted with dead kids, and you’re projecting what you feel on to the killer.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Not done yet. On the other hand, as theories go, it’s not completely off the wall. You can soon run a check on boys of that age who’ve died in London in recent years. If any died of extensive blood loss, if any of the mothers have had unusual difficulties coping. It’s a lead.’

‘Yeah, I can get that started tonight. Look, I’ve got to go. Thanks, Mark.’

Dana disconnected the line and heard a lapping sound at her feet. In the minute or so that she’d been talking, the water had crept closer. She took a step back and stumbled, then turned round and found herself walking faster than was sensible. The lights had been taken away, most of the people had gone from the beach and from the bridge, and she really needed to watch her step. Miss your footing on one of these beaches at night, hit your head as the tide crept its way in, and it could be the end of you.

Only when she’d reached the first step that wasn’t encrusted with river-weed did Dana feel her heartbeat begin to slow down. She turned back, one last time. By this time, it was impossible to tell where the beach ended and the water began. She could still hear it though, the soft, whispering sound it made as it crept towards her.