Heathen/Nemesis

Eighteen

What the hell was she going to do?

Donna looked at the key, then at each of the doors in turn. They all looked the same.

Only one way to find out.

She crossed to the first door and edged the key into the lock, listening for any sounds from the other side. She didn’t relish the prospect of having to explain herself to both an irate tenant and Mr Mercuriadis. She heard nothing and pushed the key as far as it would go into the Yale lock, turning it as gently as possible.

It wouldn’t turn.

She withdrew it with equal care, looking behind her at the other doors just in case someone emerged and caught her at her furtive business.

She moved to the next door and pressed her ear close to the white-painted wood.

From inside she heard classical music. Someone was obviously in there.

Donna turned and moved towards the third of the four doors. Once more she pushed the key slowly into the lock and tried to turn it.

Again it wouldn’t move.

She allowed herself a thin smile as she realized, by process of elimination, that the door she wanted was the last one. Donna pulled the key.

It wouldn’t budge; remained stuck fast in the lock.

She swallowed hard and gripped it more firmly but still the recalcitrant object stayed where it was, held by the grooves and threads of the lock.

She had to free it.

There was movement on the other side of the door.

Oh Jesus, what if the tenant was coming out?

Donna pulled at the key again frantically but still it remained firmly wedged.

The movement behind the door ceased and she stood still for a moment, listening.

Across the landing she could still hear the classical music.

She waited a second longer then tried again, working the key back and forth this time, feeling it give a little.

And a little more.

She pulled hard and the key came free with a metallic rasping sound.

Immediately she heard footsteps coming towards the door from the other side.

She had to get inside Suzanne Regan’s flat as quickly as possible. Donna took the three paces across to the other door, slid the key in and turned it.

The door of the flat next to her was beginning to open.

Hurry.

She pushed the door open, slipped inside and closed it. She leaned her back against it, trying to control her breathing as she heard footsteps on the landing. In the darkness of the flat she listened to them move towards the top of the stairs, the top step creaking protestingly.

For interminable seconds she stood in the blackness, awaiting the knock and the confrontation. Her mind was racing, her thoughts tumbling in different directions. She closed her fists tightly.

Closed one around the key.

The key.

As she stood in the darkness she realized that it was still stuck in the door, protruding from the lock.