Jodie stopped beside her and smiled sadly. ‘How strange that it should be love that destroyed our friendship. Goodbye, Rivka. You won’t see me again.’

46

The following Wednesday, as Rivka had promised, Jodie found a small package on her doormat. There was no note, nothing at all written on either the outside or on the small bottle it contained. Jodie opened the lid and sniffed. It had a slightly medicinal scent but it wasn’t overpowering.

She took out the small bottle of whisky she’d bought over the weekend and emptied half down the sink, then carefully, she poured the contents of the smaller bottle into the remainder of the whisky and shook it gently.

Her plan was ready.

The meeting with Rivka hadn’t changed her mind, not even the sneering reference to her being as much of a monster as Victor had. It wasn’t true – she wasn’t a monster, she was a woman protecting her children. And the man she loved. The ache hadn’t gone away, it hadn’t even faded. How could it when the love she felt for the man was so entwined with the love for her child.

And when she faltered, when doubts piled themselves up, one atop the other, it was love that gave her strength.

She dressed carefully. Black jeans, a dark-grey jumper, a navy raincoat with a hood, and a navy wool scarf. The weather was in her favour; it had been bitterly cold recently and everyone would be wrapped up warmly. The coat pockets were deep. She shoved several paper tissues into one of them and the prepared whisky bottle into the other.

As she walked away from her house she arranged her scarf so that her mouth and nose were covered. Nearer to Victor’s bedsit, she pulled the hood of her coat up and tugged it down over her forehead. Between the hood and the scarf, only her eyes were visible.

She pressed Victor’s doorbell and waited, keeping her face to the door. It was a long time before she heard movement on the other side but she’d no intention of leaving, the plan was fixed in her mind, she wasn’t going to weaken. She couldn’t afford to… too much depended on her success.

‘Hi,’ she said, when the door opened to Victor’s pale, furrowed face. She pulled the scarf down. ‘Can I come in? We need to talk.’ She shuffled from foot to foot. ‘It’s very cold out here.’

‘Yes, of course, come inside.’ He stood back to let her pass through but the puzzled expression didn’t fade. ‘This is a surprise.’

She said nothing, waiting for him to lead her up the stairs. Praying that they’d meet nobody on the way, she followed him, and was relieved when she was safely inside his dingy accommodation.