Piece Of Cake

How do you kill your best friend’s husband?
It’s not a question you ask yourself every day, but recently it’s been on my mind a lot. I’m not the murderous sort by nature, I’ve managed to get along for 30 years without topping anyone, but…well. He deserves it.
I think everyone is capable of murder. We like to pretend we’re not, but I think we all know that if someone was seriously threatening us or our family; especially our kids, we’d do it. It’s just we like to act civilised, like we don’t have those primitive urges any more. We can talk things out, stage interventions, turn the other cheek. Ha! Well, what happens when you can’t?
Let me tell you about my friend, the one that I think it’s worth killing for. I first met her in the school playground when I was waiting for my eldest; she came and made a fuss of the baby and we got chatting, like you do. She was bubbly, and I was in that horrible phase when you’ve got a new baby of feeling like the world was a big and dangerous place. Her smile made the playground seem a safe place to be, and I looked forward to chatting to her every day.
It took about six months before we became friends; real friends, that is, not just to say hello to. She asked me back for coffee, and we sat and talked and somehow all the things you usually keep behind closed doors just tumbled out. I trusted her, and she trusted me, even though we didn’t really know why. We swapped war stories about abusive exes, and talked about how glad we were that we’d made better choices this time around.
Turns out, only one of us had.
Oh, he was a sly dog, her man. Totally took her in. I mean, it wouldn’t have been hard to be a better man than her ex, he was a total psycho. You can see why being with someone who didn’t backhand her every time she said something out of turn was an improvement. It wasn’t long before things she said started to worry me, though.
You see, I had counselling to get over my ex. I don’t usually hold with that sort of thing, but when I went into the shelter they suggested it and well, it was something to do. They helped me understand how it had all started, how it was him that was damaged and how that damage had spread to me. Co-dependence, they called it. It made sense, and I started to do things a bit different. Then I met my fella and, well, he’s one of the good guys. Not perfect, but he’d never hurt me or the kids and he’s a grafter. Can’t fault him for that.
Her husband, though? Well, she’d tell me how he got frustrated and punched the door. How he came home and complained the house was a mess, just because her kids had some toys out. How he had a go at her because she’d put on a few pounds. How he’d go out drinking, every night, and come home and shout the odds.
And her? Oh she was so full of understanding and compassion for him. How hard she worked to make it all her own fault, not his.
I tried to tell her, but she wasn’t listening. I didn’t blame her, I remembered what it was like to be on the inside of that kind of relationship. It’s not as easy as you’d think. Love is blind, people say, but you don’t realise how blind until someone shines a spotlight for you.
For her, that came the day he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her in front of a mirror. I couldn’t tell you what he said, for a start I wasn’t there else this would have ended a long time ago. For a second, she was sobbing too hard when she told me and I couldn’t make out the words. Doesn’t matter, they were ugly and they were lies. He told her their marriage was over, and that he was taking the kids and he was taking everything she owned. He was going to prove she wasn’t fit to be their mother. He was going to make her life a misery.
Now, I know that he has a thing with a tart from the other end of the village. It’s not that big a place, secrets have a way of getting out. He wants his whole life, just with the wife swapped over. I don’t see how that can be right, do you?
I wanted him gone, out of her life, out of the kids lives. Just so my beautiful, sweet, generous friend could have a chance at being really happy. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this, you know? She just makes bad choices when it comes to men, and that’s not her fault. It’s the way she was programmed, they told me that in counselling. Her Dad was abusive, so that’s all she thinks she’s worth. It’s like people treating her badly is all she expects.
Then one day, I was clearing out my mother in laws kitchen, and I found an old pack of insulin. Their dog had been diabetic, you see, and had needed injections. The dog was dead, but the medicine was still there. I stuck it in my bag, just thinking I’d drop it off at the chemist or something. You can’t just put stuff like that in the bin.
I went to visit my friend and I took some cakes from the bakers. Her husband was there, and I offered him one. I’m polite, you know? I wouldn’t want to cause her any trouble. If he knew that she told me what he was like, then he’d take it out on her. He said he couldn’t have one. Mature onset diabetes, he had to have insulin and everything. I made a joke about him not being mature and left it at that, but the insulin thing was ticking over in my mind.
Diabetes is a funny thing. It wasn’t all that long ago that it was a death sentence, but now with insulin, people can live pretty normal lives. They do have to be careful not to overdose, though. It’s easily done, lots of deaths are caused by overdose every year. How do I know? Well, I did some research. Don’t worry, I was careful. No one will find it in my browsing history.
So now I’m in my kitchen, wiping down the worktops and enjoying the fragrant smell coming from the oven. It’s only a small cake, baked with sweeteners so it might have a bit of an aftertaste. The frosting is very special though. I hope he likes it.
How do you kill your best friend’s husband?
Piece of cake.