Consequences Read Free Page B

time it won’t just be the Koi. I’ll be in touch. And remember, I’m watching you.’ The phone went dead.
    ‘What do you mean? Wait.’ she shouted. The dialling tone burred in her ear. Liz raced along the hallway to the downstairs bathroom and bolted the door. She was safe. Her head was reeling. She leaned forward, grasping the basin and looked into the mirror. What on earth was she going to do? She felt nausea rise within her.
    ‘Gemma,’ she said as she lifted her head remembering what he’d said. She turned and threw up in the toilet bowl.
     
    Wiping her mouth of vomit and still gasping for breath from the retching, she realised she had to pull herself together.
    Liz unlocked the door, her stomach swirled, she felt dizzy and her heart pounded. Thoughts raced around her confused head. What if he’d already got to Gemma? Why the hell hadn’t she noticed someone watching her? There was no time to try to work it out, Gemma was her priority, and first and foremost Liz had to find out if she was okay and still at school. Her senses on high alert, her maternal instincts taking over, she headed for the knife block that sat on a worktop in the kitchen and snatching a stainless steel meat knife from the stand with one hand, she picked up the phone that was hung on the wall above.
    Calm down, calm down, she told herself, as she stood in the corner that had full view of the doors and windows. Giving in to her shaking legs, she slid to the floor, her back resting against the kitchen units. She desperately needed to control her breathing or she knew she would faint. Was he still watching her? Her lips trembled, her eyes stung with hot tears that jumped afresh into her eyes and carried the remainder of her mascara down her face, and with them the make-up she had applied so perfectly, earlier that morning. Hanging her head, she could see her hair was tipped with vomit and her clothing was crumpled. She looked as she felt; no longer did the thirty-six year old look a million dollars in her expensive designer outfit, far from it. Hugging her knees to her chest she bent her head in between her legs and stared at the marble floor as if she had never seen it before.
    ‘Get a grip...come on, ring the school’. As she looked up, the brandy bottle opposite drew her like a magnet. She clambered to her feet. Leaving the phone on the work surface she fumbled with the screw cap of the bottle with shaking hands - Dutch courage.
    ‘Shit, come on.’ She struggled with the cap. Liz gulped the cognac, spilling more down her silk blouse than she managed to swallow. Coughing and spluttering, she slammed the bottle down and heaved a sigh. It seemed to bring her to her senses, or dull the pain, she was unaware which. She pressed number 5 on the phone, which she’d programmed, for Gemma’s school. ’Come on, come on,’ she tapped her foot impatiently, tightening her grip on the handle of the knife.
    ‘Good morning, Bartlett’s Academy for Girls’, said a high pitched, beautifully spoken lady.
    ‘It’s...its Mrs Reynolds from ‘The Grange.’ I’m ringing to see if my daughter’s...okay?’ Liz’s teeth were chattering. ’When I dropped her off she wasn’t feeling well...too well...you see. I can… do you want me to come for her?’
    ‘I’m sure if she was ill we would have contacted you Mrs Reynolds. It’s probably first day nerves...but wait, one moment. I’ll go and check to put your mind at rest.’
    The line went dead for what seemed like forever. Liz could hear children’s faint, muffled laughs and squeals in the background.
    ‘Come on...come on...come on …’ she said, prodding the tip of the knife into her leg until she drew blood. ‘Ouch.’ She jumped and hit the button on the oven with her head. The timer beeped loudly. Her heart leapt.
    ‘Fucking hell.’ she screeched.
    ‘Pardon? Mrs Reynolds...are you there?’
    ‘Ouch, er...yes...sorry,’ Liz grimaced.
    The Secretary continued nonplussed, ‘Gemma’s