15th April 2010
Fiona and Mitchell stand beside the bar in the luxurious Keats Room. The wedding guests form a queue, each wanting to pass on their congratulations and good wishes for the future. Mitchell dishes out firm handshakes and booming laughs for the men. Fiona receives the attentions of the women with graceful smiles.
Rosie taps her foot and checks her watch as she stands in line. She wanted to be first but the coach-load of colleagues from Fiona’s college pushed her aside outside the wedding venue. When she got to the Keats Room, Mitchell’s friends from the golf club beat her to the queue.
Eventually Rosie reaches the happy couple. She hugs Fiona, and tells her favourite cousin how beautiful she looks. Fiona manages a blush for the fiftieth time that afternoon, and thanks Rosie for coming. Rosie steps to one side to allow Mrs Patterson to pass on her congratulations.
“Thanks for coming, Rosie,” says Mitchell. He shakes Rosie’s hand. Rosie forces a smile. She doesn’t like Mitchell. He stinks of money and influence.
“No problem, mate. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. One word of warning though - you hurt Fiona, and I’ll kill you,” says Rosie.
Shock flickers across Mitchell’s face before they burst out laughing. Mitchell claps Rosie on the back. Rosie ruffles Mitchell’s hair.
“Good one! I’ll look after her, I promise,” he says.
“You’d better,” mutters Rosie as she leaves the couple and heads toward the other cousins by the window. She drops a handful of Mitchell’s hair into her purse.
29th October 2015
Mitchell sits on the sofa in Deirdre’s living room. He looks around at her modernist decor, and smiles. He remembers Fiona’s chintz and pastel shades, and shudders. He rubs his wedding finger, glad to be rid of the ring.
His phone buzzes on the sofa beside him. Another text from Fiona. Mitchell shakes his head. She’s been hysterical since he left three days ago. He tells her that it’s not her fault, that these things happen. He tells her she can keep the house, he really doesn’t care. He tells her that he wishes it could have turned out differently. He tells her that she’s not to blame, and nor is Deirdre. He tells her that he cannot help who he falls in love with.
Mitchell sees movement outside the living room window. He sighs, and hauls himself up from the couch. He expects to see Fiona outside. She has been by twice already, pleading with him to change his mind. He told her to leave, to stop embarrassing herself. He told her the divorce will be fair. Mitchell kicks himself. He needs to call his solicitor and find out how to begin proceedings.
The front garden is empty. Mitchell wonders if Deirdre is back from work. He peers up the road, trying to spot Deirdre’s Nissan Micra.
Pain shoots up his left arm. Mitchell lurches backwards, clutching at his shoulder. A throbbing beat begins in his abdomen. He falls to his knees, doubled over. A fresh wave of agony shudders through his body. He looks up and sees a shadow beside the window.
He calls out for help. A fist of pain reaches into his chest and grips his heart. Panic seizes Mitchell. A wave of agony knocks him onto his back. He feels as though a giant is thrusting a hundred needles into his chest. A burning sensation crawls up his arm from his right hand. Tears spill down Mitchell’s face now, his blurred vision focussed on the shadow at the door. He tries to call out but the pain is too great.
He wheezes as an iron grip clamps around his heart. Mitchell twitches twice, before lying still. His glassy eyes stare at the wall, seeing nothing.
* * *
“I told you I’d kill you if you hurt Fiona, but you didn’t listen, did you?” asks Rosie.
She stands outside the whore’s house, watching Mitchell’s body twitch through the front window. Rosie puts away her lighter, and drops the doll filled with Mitchell’s hair into her bag.
Rosie smiles and leaves the garden and walks away down the street. The coroner will conclude a heart attack killed Mitchell, and Fiona will claim both his life insurance and his fortune. The slut will get nothing.
Rosie gets into her car. She looks in the rear view mirror. The Angel of Vengeance looks back. LS
"If the truth be told, I'd rather hear a story."