I began as soon as I got in through the door. Packing first, then cleaning later. I pride myself on being methodical, staying cool and calm under pressure; not that this was pressure really, I had been here many times before. Deftly, I pulled my suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and began packing it with neat layers of clothing, toiletries and makeup.
Cleaning next. I pull on a pair of rubber gloves; every surface, every door handle and light switch had to be cleaned to within an inch of its life! It wouldn’t do to get careless at this stage of the game.
Now…documents check. I unlocked my briefcase and leafed through various ID documents, bank details, fingering them lovingly. I pulled out a small wad of passports and spread them out before me, “Pick a card, any card” I say out loud to some imaginary audience at a magic show.
One last task before leaving the luxury penthouse flat for good. I looked around the room, would I miss this place? I had only been here a matter of weeks but it had felt like home for a while. Would I miss him? I glanced across at the framed photo of Peter. He smiled back at me, relaxed and happy, not a care in the world. I placed the photo frame face-down – “Don’t go getting soft now Eva!” I told myself sternly. Ah yes, one last task….I opened my laptop to check that the sale of the ‘Penthouse’ had gone through ok, and experienced that familiar yet ever potent thrill, accompanied by a rush of adrenalin, as I saw the figures (in their millions) in my account.
Gathering my possessions, and without a backward glance, I made my way to the elevator and down to the waiting taxi cab below.
