Nell
PRESENT
I wake the next morning, knowing that Sadie will be cross to find I slept in the living room after all.
We’d argued for a while as to who should sleep on the sofa and in the end, we’d agreed to share the bed.
But I’d found it hard to sleep, and Sadie was snoring, only lightly, but enough to keep me awake. So I came down here.
There’s a message from Alex wishing me a happy Christmas and I take a couple of minutes to reply.
It’s already nine o’clock, so I throw my blanket off and go to the kitchen to get breakfast ready before Simon picks Sadie up at ten.
The Christmas tree Sadie brought is still on the island, a reminder of our lovely celebration the previous evening.
I turn to put on the light but nothing happens when I flick the switch and I mutter under my breath, because I know I don’t have a spare bulb.
I fill the kettle with water and turn it on.
There’s no answering hiss, so I pull open the fridge.
The light doesn’t come on and I realize there must have been a power cut and that it’s still ongoing.
Desperate for a cup of tea, I think about heating water in the microwave then realize I can’t use that either.
Grumbling about the great start to Christmas Day, I take juice from the fridge.
I’d planned to heat up some croissants from the freezer but with no oven to bake them in, crispbread and jam will have to do.
It’s a huge relief that Sadie knows who I really am.
She didn’t seem fazed by what I did back then and before I fell asleep, I found myself wondering if it wasn’t so bad after all—until I remembered that if it hadn’t been for me, Brett Parker wouldn’t have run across the road without looking, an innocent bystander wouldn’t have fallen in front of a tube train, and a young man wouldn’t have spent twelve years in prison.
But I’d still been able to sleep easier and deeper than I have for a long time.
I set plates out on the table then stick my head into the hallway and call up to Sadie.
“Merry Christmas! Breakfast is ready!” There’s no answering call so I give her another five minutes then run up the stairs and knock lightly on the door.
“Sadie, it’s time to get up,” I say, inching open the door.
“Simon will be here soon.” My fingers find the light switch but of course, it doesn’t come on.
“There’s been a power cut,” I say. “Shall I open the curtains?” I go into the room, then stop, because there’s a strange smell in the air and at first, I think that Sadie must have had more to drink than I thought and has vomited in her sleep. Worried, I move nearer.
A scream rips from me and I back toward the door, my hand over my mouth. Stumbling down the stairs and then to the kitchen, I snatch my phone from the island and call 999.
“Ambulance,” I tell the responder, my words tumbling over each other. “And the police. It’s my friend, she—she’s dead. There’s a knife sticking out of her. She—she’s been murdered.”