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Authors: Steve Wilson
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it a night. “Next week, though,” said Trish as we were leaving, “let’s all of us tell our ‘potted histories’, as that’s clearly what Ethan wants to hear.”
“I will — on condition that Ethan tells us his tale as well,” insisted Debbie.
“If I must,” I added. “It will make for a long night, especially if we can persuade Gail and Emma to join us as well.”
We said our goodnights and went our separate ways home, with the prevailing thought in my head being that I had a date — of sorts — after class next week.
Chapter Five
Amber — Friday 7 th October 2011
She carefully applied the foundation to her cheeks, laying it on thickly to try and mask the discolouration; the last thing she needed now was for somebody to notice the change. She was almost certain that nobody had, so far, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
For some strange reason, it was always the left side of her face that showed the signs first, so she applied an extra layer there. She tutted as she saw a couple of wrinkles, but quickly set about masking their appearance as well.
Finally, she looked at her reflection in the mirror; she spent a lot of time looking in mirrors these days. There was barely any resemblance to the woman who had stood in Alan Ingleby’s bathroom eleven years earlier; Amber clearly was no more.
The mark was barely visible; it would pass inspection as long as nobody came too close. Not to worry, there were still a few days before she’d be back in that environment, and she knew from previous experience that in these early days any blotches often disappeared overnight. And if it was still there on Tuesday evening — well, it wasn’t that unusual to have a little bruising, was it? She could always come up with a believable explanation for how it happened. Why, it might even gain her a sympathetic ear; it might make her task that little bit easier.
The others had accepted her story without batting an eyelid. Her duplicity came easily with experience. Men, especially, never thought to question her. Despite her initial misgivings, this was turning out to be quite straightforward. More than three weeks had passed already. She only had to live the lie for another seven and a half. And, if things became awkward, she could always take a break. There was nothing that said she had to spend time with them in between, only that she had to be there at the start and at the finish. She considered whether it might be wise to drop out of sight for a few weeks.
Less than two months, and it will all be over
.
Then I can start to live
. She took one more look in the mirror and nodded. You could barely see it now. It would pass. Satisfied, she turned from the mirror and picked up her things, ready to go back into the outside world.
Chapter Six
Week 4 — Rochdale — Shooting
Tuesday 11 th October 2011
As it seemed possible that the Tuesday night sessions were going to focus on a different case every week, without bringing each preceding one to a satisfactory conclusion, I decided that this time I would do some research of my own. The following day, I went to the reference library in Blackpool and spent a few hours trying to find out anything I could about the two murders we had discussed. I soon realised that it would have been easier to look for the tiniest needle in the largest haystack.
I looked at plenty of books in the local history section, but neither of these cases warranted a mention. After several fruitless hours, a kind librarian offered to help, as she had noticed my growing exasperation. She suggested I try looking on the library computers, and when I explained that I didn’t really know how to use them she helped me search for information about Enid Rodgers, Eve Rhodes, Len Phillips or Bea Ashmere. The search turned up a very basic entry about the death of Enid Rodgers and an even smaller piece that mentioned Len Phillips. Neither of the articles provided any new information, and there wasn’t
“I will — on condition that Ethan tells us his tale as well,” insisted Debbie.
“If I must,” I added. “It will make for a long night, especially if we can persuade Gail and Emma to join us as well.”
We said our goodnights and went our separate ways home, with the prevailing thought in my head being that I had a date — of sorts — after class next week.
Chapter Five
Amber — Friday 7 th October 2011
She carefully applied the foundation to her cheeks, laying it on thickly to try and mask the discolouration; the last thing she needed now was for somebody to notice the change. She was almost certain that nobody had, so far, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
For some strange reason, it was always the left side of her face that showed the signs first, so she applied an extra layer there. She tutted as she saw a couple of wrinkles, but quickly set about masking their appearance as well.
Finally, she looked at her reflection in the mirror; she spent a lot of time looking in mirrors these days. There was barely any resemblance to the woman who had stood in Alan Ingleby’s bathroom eleven years earlier; Amber clearly was no more.
The mark was barely visible; it would pass inspection as long as nobody came too close. Not to worry, there were still a few days before she’d be back in that environment, and she knew from previous experience that in these early days any blotches often disappeared overnight. And if it was still there on Tuesday evening — well, it wasn’t that unusual to have a little bruising, was it? She could always come up with a believable explanation for how it happened. Why, it might even gain her a sympathetic ear; it might make her task that little bit easier.
The others had accepted her story without batting an eyelid. Her duplicity came easily with experience. Men, especially, never thought to question her. Despite her initial misgivings, this was turning out to be quite straightforward. More than three weeks had passed already. She only had to live the lie for another seven and a half. And, if things became awkward, she could always take a break. There was nothing that said she had to spend time with them in between, only that she had to be there at the start and at the finish. She considered whether it might be wise to drop out of sight for a few weeks.
Less than two months, and it will all be over
.
Then I can start to live
. She took one more look in the mirror and nodded. You could barely see it now. It would pass. Satisfied, she turned from the mirror and picked up her things, ready to go back into the outside world.
Chapter Six
Week 4 — Rochdale — Shooting
Tuesday 11 th October 2011
As it seemed possible that the Tuesday night sessions were going to focus on a different case every week, without bringing each preceding one to a satisfactory conclusion, I decided that this time I would do some research of my own. The following day, I went to the reference library in Blackpool and spent a few hours trying to find out anything I could about the two murders we had discussed. I soon realised that it would have been easier to look for the tiniest needle in the largest haystack.
I looked at plenty of books in the local history section, but neither of these cases warranted a mention. After several fruitless hours, a kind librarian offered to help, as she had noticed my growing exasperation. She suggested I try looking on the library computers, and when I explained that I didn’t really know how to use them she helped me search for information about Enid Rodgers, Eve Rhodes, Len Phillips or Bea Ashmere. The search turned up a very basic entry about the death of Enid Rodgers and an even smaller piece that mentioned Len Phillips. Neither of the articles provided any new information, and there wasn’t
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