Page 56 of The Temp

‘His Patek Philippe watch must be worth a few quid,’ I offer, trying to stay positive. ‘Do you think it’s real?’

‘I doubt it,’ Zelda admits.

‘You can get good fakes for fifty quid from Malaysia,’ I confess, and Zelda agrees. ‘I noticed his watch the very first time I saw him wearing it. I think it was that lovely emerald green face and leather strap.’ I tap my finger against my cup. ‘I wonder if the police will contact you again.’

‘PC Pernice rang me this morning,’ Zelda says, and my eyes widen.

‘And?’

‘They’ve had an update. Frank finally replied to Louis’s text messages. They traced his location from his mobile number.’ Relief sluices through me. He’s alive. That explains Zelda’s calm demeanour. ‘They also checked his bank account. Two cash withdrawals were made. CCTV outside the cash machine matches the description they have of him.’

‘Where is he?’

‘St Ives.’ Zelda takes a slurp of tea.

‘He’s in Cornwall?’ I exclaim.

‘Cambridgeshire,’ she clarifies, draining her cup. ‘Louis told the police he’s gone to see his parents in Huntingdon. Mum’s very poorly, apparently.’

‘Did he tell them he’ll be coming back?’ Please say no.

‘Not for the foreseeable. Linda thinks he won’t show his face around here again after what he’s done.’

‘That’s true.’ A pause and then. ‘Anyway, at least we know he’s not dead.’

We sit in silence for a few moments and then Zelda says, ‘Bella?’

‘Yes, love?’

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Of course.’ I grab both her hands and look her in the eye.

‘I don’t know how to say this, really.’

I squeeze her slender fingers. I know what she’s going to say. She wants to ask me for a loan to pay her rent because that wanker stole her money, but doesn’t know how to style it. ‘You know you can ask me anything, right?’ I say, already preparing the bank transfer in my head.

Zelda nods. ‘Why do you smell like a charity shop?’

‘What?’ I think I’d have preferred her asking me for money. Tom told me I stank earlier but I thought he was being spiteful. ‘Do I smell?’

‘To put it mildly,’ she giggles. I look at my watch, wondering if there’s enough time to put on a quick wash. ‘I’m sure Mum won’t mind. Drench yourself in some perfume.’

‘I’m not picking Mum up.’ I get to my feet and start unbuttoning my shirt while Zelda starts to hum David Rose’s Stripper. ‘Oh, be quiet.’

‘Mum’s getting a train back?’ Zelda asks as I chuck my blouse into the washing machine and set it to a fifteen-minute quick wash. ‘She won’t be happy about that.’

‘Daisy’s picking her up.’ Daisy pounded down the stairs the moment I stepped inside after my brawl with Tom earlier, and threw her arms around me – she’d seen and heard everything from her bedroom window. When she asked if there was anything she could do to help, I suggested, in jest, picking my mother up from Heathrow and, to my astonishment, she agreed.

‘Daisy?’ Zelda says incredulously as I slide a hand through Daisy’s black hoodie, which she abandoned on one of the chairs. ‘What’s she gonna do, stand there with a cardboard name display?’

‘Georgia’s going with her. Daisy’s found another job near the airport and is viewing two flats in Ruislip this morning, so will be nearby. I’ve got a lot on and it made sense.’

‘I didn’t know she was leaving the garden shed.’

‘Garden office,’ I point out, reminding her that it cost forty-five grand, and just then my phone starts ringing on the worktop where it is charging – Linda calling.

‘Going for a wee,’ Zelda mimes, as I put Linda on loudspeaker.

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