Page 16 of The Temp

‘No, in a brothel. Of course, in a hotel. A five-star spa, as it goes. You’ve spoilt all the surprises now,’ he whines, pushing his plate away from him like a petulant child.

‘Oh, my dear God.’ Zelda holds Frank’s face with both hands and gives him a deafening kiss, leaving an imprint of her cerise lipstick on his forehead. I want to scream my lungs out. Zelda can’t go away with him for almost a week without knowing the truth about him.

‘How about the following Saturday, then?’ Tom suggests, and everyone agrees. ‘That’s a date then. I’ll get those pastourma you like, Theo, and salmon for you, Linda.’

My phone pings. ‘It’s Daisy,’ I yell hastily. ‘She’s outside. We’d best get off. Don’t want to keep the poor girl waiting.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Harris…I mean, Bella,’ Daisy says, once Tom and I are settled in the back of her car, which smells of burgers and unwashed clothes, like a couple of teenagers being picked up by their mother. Daisy cocks her head at the black bin bags on the front passenger seat next to her. ‘If I’d known your sister needed a lift, I’d have left this lot in my auntie’s garage until tomorrow. Is that her?’ Daisy motions at Zelda with her head. ‘She’s banging.’ Daisy shoots a look at me in her rearview. ‘You look alike,’ she says, and I smile. ‘Although you’re more Cate Blanchett and she’s more Emily Blunt. Good genes.’ Tom agrees and I go pink. It’s lovely of Daisy to compare us to Hollywood beauties but I’m nowhere near as glamorous as Cate, nor Zelda, for that matter. Mum would always introduce her as the good-looking one when we were little. It hurt at the time but as an adult, I’ve discovered that beauty is only skin-deep. ‘Will they be okay?’ Daisy asks, worriedly, nodding at Zelda who is limping along the road, holding onto Frank’s arm.

‘They’ll be fine, Daisy,’ I say, tiredly. I do feel sorry for my sister. Half a mile is a long way to walk in uncomfortable shoes. I do hope she doesn’t get blisters, but a part of me is relieved that Daisy turned them down when they asked for a lift, because the thought of being squashed on the backseat with them while they smooched like love-struck teenagers turned my stomach.

Daisy fires up the engine, and it growls – diesel. I look out of the window and wave at Linda and Theo, who are standing at the gate. Linda blows a kiss and I pretend to catch it, and then she makes a heart shape with her hands. My lovely friend put on a great spread for us this evening. Shame Frank ruined it. Tom’s phone buzzes in his pocket. I give him a look. ‘Who’s that?’ It’s been going off all evening. ‘Not the eyelash man again?’

‘It’s Georgia,’ he says sleepily, reading it. ‘Replying to a message I sent her three hours ago.’ I shake my head knowingly. ‘She’s fine, by the way. They had McDonalds.’ Our daughter would live off takeaways if we allowed it.

‘Hope you don’t mind,’ Daisy says, shooting a glance at us in the rearview, ‘but could you buckle in? Better to be safe than sorry.’

Tom and I reach for our seatbelts tiredly. A phone chimes. Daisy’s. It’s a message from her auntie, she tells us, then begins texting hurriedly, auburn hair dangling in her face. ‘Sorry, guys. I won’t be a mo.’

I gaze out of the window. Ahead, Zelda takes her shoes off and says something to Frank. I watch miserably as Frank picks her up in his arms. A romantic European break, new clothes (she told me he’d bought her the entire designer outfit she was wearing tonight), fancy dinners in top restaurants, versus midday bunk-ups in her flat, the odd clandestine lunch in the countryside where no one knew Chris, and Christmases with us and Mum. No wonder she’s besotted with Frank.

Zelda squeals loudly as Frank jogs along the street, holding her on his back. My heart sinks. It’ll all end in tears. I can feel it in my gut. I’m about to look away when Frank suddenly puts Zelda down and races back to the house. Zelda must’ve forgotten something. Probably her phone. Daisy revs the engine. I crane my neck for a better view. Zelda is leaning against someone’s wall, texting – not her phone then. Daisy sticks the car into gear with a loud crunch, apologises again for not being able to offer my sister and her boyfriend a lift home, suggests dropping us off and coming back for them, that it’s no bother at all.

‘There’ll be no need for that, Daisy,’ Tom says firmly. ‘Zelda doesn’t live far. I’m sure Muscles can carry her home on his shoulders.’ Is that a hint of antipathy in his tone, or might it be the drink? I don’t question him. We can discuss Frank in the morning with clear heads, and I will tell him he was my personal trainer and how he manipulated his way into my sister’s arms. This has gone far enough.

‘It’s only a ten-minute walk, Daisy. But thank you. That’s very kind.’

Daisy smiles at us in the mirror. The indicator clinks and as we pull away from the kerb with a jerk, I catch a glimpse of Linda, arms folded, flicking a glance over her shoulder. Theo has gone inside. Frank is standing in front of her, hands in pockets. My eyes slide to Zelda, she’s still leaning against a wall twenty feet away, putting her shoes back on, and then I look back at Linda. Whatever he’s saying to Linda, she doesn’t look happy. Frank must’ve recognised her. I bet he knew who she was all along.

Chapter 14

‘Is Tom ready for these, Bella?’ Daisy is balancing a tray of kebabs in her hand like a waitress – cubes of chicken threaded onto silver skewers between green, yellow and red peppers. Daisy’s done a great job. She’s cooked for us every night this week, while I’ve been climbing the walls worrying about Zelda holed up in Monaco with him. Daisy’s an excellent cook, by the way, taught by her auntie Doris, from a young age.

I glance out of the window. Tom is sweating over a barbeque, warm sun on his shoulders. It’s unseasonably warm today, 20c and dry. At least his mood has improved and he’s talking to me again.

The morning after the dinner party, I stuck to my self-imposed promise and told Tom that Frank was indeed my personal trainer. In hindsight, it’d been easier if I’d kept quiet, seeing as I’d sacked him, but I had no other choice. After the initial shock of how much it was costing me wore off, he hit the roof – demanded to know why neither of us mentioned it the night before – what were we hiding? – he knew there was something fishy going on – he could inhale the tension between us.

Telling him I kept Frank a secret because I knew he’d blow a gasket over the cost and make me stop using him, only added fuel to the fire – he slammed me for lying, accused me of wasting money on a fitness coach to boost my ego, reminded me how we were up to our necks in debt, accused me of being selfish. In truth, I was thinking of myself for once. I remained silent about why I really quit the gym for fear of Tom losing it completely. I couldn’t deal with that on top of worrying about my sister’s safety. For my wrongdoings, I was sentenced to five days of the cold shoulder and snippy remarks at the dinner table in front of Daisy, who didn’t know where to look, and Georgia, who didn’t bat an eyelid.

Catching sight of me at the kitchen window now, Tom waves, then wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, searing the burgers over a hot grill, smudges of grease on his white apron. Theo and Frank look on, beers in hand, hairy arms poking out of their rolled-up shirt sleeves. Georgia is perched on the wooden bench behind them in her orange hoodie and black shorts, Zelda next to her looking tanned and glowy after a week in the sun, which is rather surprising, given that she just told me and Linda that they barely left the bedroom – a piece of information I could’ve done without.

Daisy shifts her weight onto one leg, her body language telling me to make my mind up. ‘That is a very good question, Daisy. I think Tom should be about ready to put them on the grill.’

I look at Linda, who is chopping parsley next to me at the kitchen worktop in a calf-length leopard print skirt and white shirt with long pointed collars, whilst giving me a running commentary of a house she sold yesterday. I know she’d rather be outside with the others, enjoying the sunshine, but that’d mean being in close proximity to Frank, whom she’s avoiding as much as possible. Linda rang me the day after her dinner party in a state. Frank recognised her, all right. That’s why he ran back to the house after we’d all left, leaving Zelda leaning against someone’s wall. Linda denied having ever clapped eyes on him – insisted he was mistaken. He wouldn’t have it, of course. Frank never backs down. But when Theo appeared at the door, he backtracked and scuttled off after Zelda who, according to Linda, was wobbling along the street in her new stilettoes like a drunken nineteen seventies prostitute.

‘I thought the newly-wed couple were going to put an offer in for the period style house I showed them earlier in the week,’ Linda blabbers, gold earrings dangling against her cheek. ‘But they went for the new build in the end. I don’t know what it is with young people today. The older house needed a bit of work but it would’ve been a better investment. All they’re interested in is flashy new kitchens and plastic lawns.’ Linda shakes her head at the vibrant parsley, earrings swinging. ‘It really gets my goat,’ Linda complains, then pauses, and looks from me to Daisy. ‘What?’

‘Sweetheart, I could listen to your shop anecdotes all day long, but could you take the kebabs out to Tom and then finish setting up the table outside? I need Daisy to give me a hand with the dips and salad.’

Linda holds up a knife, which has bits of wet parsley stuck to it, grabs her Stella Artois and gives me a look that says do you want to die while sucking on the beer bottle. ‘Daisy, will you take them out to Tom, please?’

Daisy nods and in a heartbeat, she’s gone, sauntering along the freshly mowed lawn, in a polka dot red and white dress, high ponytail of red tresses swishing with each stride.

‘Daisy, come over,’ Georgia calls out, her voice as sharp as the blade of the knife I’m slicing into the red onion.

‘Isn’t she lovely?’ I say to Linda, admiring Daisy from the window, as if she were my daughter, even though I’m only twelve years her senior. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to cope without her when Maggie comes back,’ I muse, dicing the onion like a pro – something Daisy taught me on her second day here. ‘Not that I don’t want Maggie back,’ I add quickly, sniffing. I take a step back and sneeze into the crook of my arm. ‘Bloody onions,’ I grumble, eyes streaming.

‘Yes, she’s very sweet,’ Linda agrees. ‘You okay?’ Soaping my hands at the sink, I tell her that apart from obsessing about how I’m going to manage to warn Zelda off Frank today, I’m fine, just allergic to everything. ‘Daisy’s very easy on the eye too,’ Linda continues, a tinge of warning in her tone. ‘Tom seems quite taken with her by the look of things.’ I follow her eyes as I dry my hands on a tea towel, then dump it over a chair at the kitchen table. Tom is taking the tray from Daisy’s outstretched arm, a warm smile on his lips. A kind, fatherly smile.

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