Page 125 of Rat

“The sea?”

“Rashford Pier, remember I told you about it?”

Rory nodded. “I remember. What are we going to do there?”

Sebastian lost his smile. “We’re going to get this over and done with.”

Rory parked up beside the road, then looked out at the sea. It was the same dreary grey colour as the sky, and instead of flawless golden sand, there were pebbles and piles of seaweed. Rory stared at the pier and questioned its stability. He was sure it was rocking as the waves hit it, threatening to come apart.

It had taken over three hours, and neither of them had spoken. Sebastian had flicked through the radio stations, tutting and shaking his head until he found one that played eighties music.

“Nothing beats England’s murky-looking sea,” Sebastian murmured.

Rory snorted. “It won’t sell any holidays looking like that.”

Sebastian reached into the back for his belongings. He emptied everything on the backseat, rooted through until he found what he’d been looking for. Rory side-eyed Sebastian and watched him put on his gloves. Somehow being strangledwith gloves, rather than without, made it seem colder, clinical, heartless. He would’ve liked the warmth of Sebastian’s hands on his skin one last time, even if he was killing him.

Sebastian pulled the clear plastic bag into the front, folded it up on his lap, then shoved it in his pocket. “Come on.”

Rory took a deep breath, then got out of the car. The bitter sea air blasted his face, and he shivered, wishing he’d worn more layers.

“This way,” Sebastian mumbled. “Do you know the time?”

Rory checked his watch. “It’s 11:45.”

There was only a narrow strip of pebbles and seaweed—the tide was in—and Sebastian headed towards the pier. Rory stared down at the ground as he followed and only looked up when Sebastian clapped and laughed.

“Well, the arcade’s looking a sorry state, but the chip shop’s still there…and it’s open.”

Rory hesitated before he followed. Sebastian held open the door, and Rory ducked under his arm, then glanced up at the server. She would be the last person to see him alive other than Sebastian, and she beamed at them.

“Want something?” Sebastian asked.

“No, thanks.”

Rory knew he wouldn’t be able to keep anything down, and he didn’t want the last thing he tasted to be vomit at the back of his throat.

“Suit yourself.”

Sebastian strode forward and ordered a large bag of chips. Any other time, Rory would’ve thought they smelled good, but the vinegar twang made him grimace.

Sebastian tried to pay, but the woman shook her head, said the shop didn’t accept the notes he was holding. He turned back to Rory and raised his eyebrow.

“Oh, they don’t take those anymore. That’s an old five-pound note.”

“It’s the money I had in my pocket the day I was sentenced.”

Rory flipped open his wallet and handed Sebastian a new five-pound note.

He frowned, rubbing it between his fingers. “It feels horrible.”

“It’s a bit odd at first.”

“Just fives?”

“Tens too.”

“Never thought money would change.”

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