Page 49 of The Temp

‘I’ve got to ring Sean…I…’ The handset shakes in my trembling hands.

‘It’s the middle of the night. You can’t ring him now. What’s happened?’

‘Zelda, she’s at the station and…I…’

‘Oh, the police came round,’ Georgia says, matter-of-factly.

Our heads snap up in synchronisation. ‘The police?’ Tom says, incredulously.

‘When? What did they say?’ I ask in a panicky voice. ‘Georgia, what did they say?’ I demand, and Tom gives me a look.

‘All right. Keep your hair on, Mother. About nineish.’ Georgia’s eyes don’t leave her phone. ‘Daisy spoke to them. I think they were looking for you, Mum.’

Getting to his feet, Tom shoves his hands into his pockets, shooting a worried glance at me. ‘Why is Zelda at the police station, Bella, and why do the police want to question you? What did she say in her texts? Has Frank been back? Did he hurt her?’

‘No. I don’t know,’ I whimper, waving the phone at him as if Zelda will materialise from it like a genie and back me up. ‘I’ve got to go to her.’ I start rifling through my bag. ‘Where are my car keys?’

‘Bella, you’ve just knocked back a large vodka martini. You’re in no fit state to drive. Is she still there?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I mumble absently. ‘She must be. Oh, here they are…’ I shoot to my feet.

‘Everything okay?’ Daisy is standing in the doorway in a new dressing gown. It’s a pink fleece and has her initial on the breast pocket.

‘Oh, Daisy, I hope we didn’t wake you,’ I say, even though I know we did. Daisy shakes her head. ‘Georgia said the police were here earlier.’

Daisy nods. ‘They asked if you were home and if I knew where Zelda lived. I said no, of course. I’m no grass.’ She says this in a tone suggesting that Zelda and I are criminals and that she is on our side because she’s cut from the same cloth. Tom stiffens next to me. I want to die. ‘I told them I’m the new home help, don’t know a thing.’ Daisy shrugs, glances at her nails, which are freshly manicured. Tom nods, tells her she did right by not getting involved in our family affairs, and she blinks, throws him a tight smile. ‘They gave me this.’ She fishes in her pocket and pulls out a business card and hands it to me. ‘Said if you could give them a call in the morning.’ I look at the card – DC Pernice. ‘Are you okay, Bella? You’ve gone very pale.’

Georgia looks up from her phone, tells me to get some sleep, that I’m not getting any younger. Daisy gently reprimands her, reminds her that fifty is the new thirty. I’m not quite fifty yet, I want to say, but gnaw my thumbnail instead. Frowning, Tom gives me a worried look, then turns up the volume on the TV. It’s a newsflash. ‘Look, it’s that man they found in Limes Park last Monday.’ Man? What man? ‘I heard it on the radio this morning. Only up the road from Zelda’s. They must’ve identified him. Poor sod. I knew he’d…’

Tom is talking but I’m no longer listening, something about Georgia, football and parks and never letting her go out alone again. I turn my head towards the TV in a daze, as if everything has stopped - time, my pulse, movement. The headlines, in bold white font against a thick red strip at the bottom of the screen, sway in my vision – Limes Park Murder Investigation. It must be Frank’s body. I look at Daisy, who is now sitting on the armrest of Georgia’s chair, then at Tom. His lips are moving, but I can no longer decipher what he’s saying. A message buzzes through on my phone. I look down at it in horror.

Zelda – It’s all over. I’m done 4.x

Chapter 46

I race into the kitchen, leaving Tom glued to the news, and Daisy and Georgia discussing a dance on TikTok that’s gone viral. I’ve got to find out what’s happened to my sister. With tremulous hands, I ring Zelda. It goes to voicemail. I press redial again and again and again, then ring her landline. I wait and wait and wait, and then, ‘Heya…’

‘Oh, Zelda, thank God they’ve let you go.’ I give the kitchen door a light kick with my bare foot, drowning out the girls’ voices. ‘I’ve...’

‘Sorry, I’m out. Leave a message.’

Bloody answering machine. Where the hell is she? Still in custody? Surely, they can’t detain her without any evidence. I’m about to phone Linda when there’s a loud thud on the front door, followed by the shrill of the bell. Acid rams into my stomach. It’s the police. They’ve come to arrest me too.

Opening the door a crack, I peek around it and watch as Tom pads into the hallway. The back of his shirt is sticking out and he shoves it back in as he reaches for the latch. Any moment now, armed police officers will barge into my house and handcuff me. I squeeze my eyes shut to the clunk of the front door being wrenched open.

‘Gregory. Everything okay, mate?’ It’s Mr Stanhope – not the police. Relief slithers through my veins and I let out a little sigh. We’re too loud, of course we are. The poor man can’t sleep. I glance at the time on my phone – 01.16. We’re lucky he hasn’t contacted noise pollution. With my back against the door, I cock my head, lips apart, focusing on the shiny Ninja air-fryer I recently bought online, another of Daisy’s recommendations, they’re quicker and healthier and, to Tom’s delight, cheaper than an electric oven. Their voices are low. Tom must be apologising, telling him that he didn’t realise how late it was.

‘It was my duty,’ Mr Stanhope says loudly. Duty? He must’ve rung the council, after all. ‘I couldn’t lie to the police.’ Police? My eyes widen as a second bout of fear grips my lungs. Dropping my phone onto the kitchen table, I race to the front door.

‘Ah, there she is,’ Mr Stanhope says, as if I’m his long, lost cousin. His light brown hair, threaded with white, is neat and side-parted, he’s cleanly shaven and wearing a caramel shirt beneath a brown V-neck sweater. Mr Stanhope always dresses smartly, even at home.

‘Mr. Stanhope, I…’ He gives me a look, sucking in his cheeks, one hand in his beige slacks. He constantly reprimands me for calling him by his surname, but it’s a hard habit to break. ‘Greg, I..’ Another look. And then I remember that only his ex-wife, who cheated on him repeatedly during their thirty-year marriage, calls him Greg. ‘Gregory, I’m sorry if we were a bit too loud but we …’

Closing his eyes, Mr Stanhope raises his palm and inclines his head. ‘I’m not here about the noise, Bella. Although, I must say, the television is unacceptably loud.’

‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry,’ I mutter. ‘It won’t happen again. We were out tonight and Georgia fell asleep with…’

‘He’s here about Frank,’ Tom interrupts, and my insides turn to mush. I hold onto the doorframe to stop myself from wobbling as laughter filters through from the living room.

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