Free Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller by Adrian Kendrew Page B

if
he returned to London for good, would she still leave Martin and start a new
life elsewhere? The idea of changing her life completely would be a massive
decision but the decision was made in an instant; she would even leave the police
service if she had to. She liked what she did for a living but there was more
to life than looking at death and getting smacked in the face by angry
Romanians. She could move away, go somewhere Martin wouldn’t find her and maybe
make a living out of photography. That would be the dream. She had the means, a
joint savings account, half of which was hers but she also had her own savings,
stashed in an account Martin didn’t know about. She had squirrelled small
amounts of money month after month and yet never really considered why she
found the need to hide it from him. And now she realised she had subconsciously
been planning her escape.
    The answering machine in the hallway beeped and she checked
the messages. It was Martin shouting into his mobile over the noise of a
crowded pub, he had gone out for drinks with his shithead work buddies and he’d
be home later. At least he had the decency to let her know where he was, that
was one thing. She erased the message before it finished and went upstairs. It
was hot and stuffy in the house so she opened the bedroom window and went to
the bathroom where she took the dressings from her bruised face and winced at
the sight of her blackening eyes, her damaged nose and split lips, she looked
awful and could do nothing but try her best to ignore it. She ran a cool
shower, and held her pained face under it and gently cleaned it in the
refreshing spray.
    She was alone and she felt freed, the silence was glorious
and peaceful after the onslaught of the past few days. She climbed into bed
bruised and naked, the sheets were cool and crisp and the mattress let her melt
into it, she may have been sore but she couldn’t remember being so comfortable.
    She had been asleep when vibration of an engine and the thud
of a car door through the open bedroom window woke her. She looked at the clock
and saw it was gone midnight. Martin was home. She listened to the front door
slam and then tracked his movements by the crashing and thumping as he moved
from hallway to kitchen and then onto the staircase.
    Simone positioned herself with her back to his side of the
bed and pretended to be asleep. She was very tired and hoped she might actually
manage to get back to sleep before he got into bed.
    The bedroom door opened quietly but over swung and bumped
against the chest of drawers behind it. He said, ‘Oops,’ in the darkness and
made a shushing noise to himself. At least he was trying to be quiet she
thought. He crossed the room and crept into the bathroom, the light clicked on
and spilled across the floor. She could smell cigarettes and alcohol in the
air. Urine splashed noisily in the bowl and the toilet flushed. The light
clicked off and he swore to himself. He stood in the bedroom and mumbled
something about not being able to see anything and then whispered her name. She
ignored him but he persisted from the other side of the room, whispering louder
this time, ‘Simone, are you awake?’
    She had no choice other than to reply. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Turn your light on, I can’t fucking see anything.’
    ‘Be quick.’ She stuck out an arm and flicked her bedside
light on, waited with her eyes closed until she felt him get into bed and
flicked it off again.
    His arm came around her and a hand cupped her breast. She
said, ‘You’ve been smoking.’
    ‘Only a couple.’
    His hand roughly massaged her breast and then slipped down
her belly; it was the same hand that punched her there before. She put her hand
on his and tried to stop him, she wanted to say: Get off me, you make me feel sick , but she didn’t she just said,
‘It’s late and I’m tired.’
    He was breathing in her ear and began to kiss the nape of her
neck. He whispered, ‘Go on.’ She could feel his