Page 60 of The Temp

‘Work?’

‘A meeting with a supplier. A millennial. They do snazzy, unique designer frames. These Gen Ys are popping up all over the place, so prices are competitive.’ My eyes narrow. Amy’s face drops. She thinks she’s landed him in it. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s what he said but I could’ve misheard,’ she says, adjusting her black Alice band which has gold stars all over it. ‘I was literally in the middle of doing our social media stuff.’

‘Actually, yes, I remember him mentioning it now,’ I lie. ‘Brain like a colander.’ Amy smiles, tells me she’s the same, then launches into an anecdote about how she left one of the gas rings on and went to Tesco, and another time put the coffee jar in the fridge. A phone rings – saving the day.

‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it,’ I say, securing my bag on my shoulder.

‘Eyes on The Hill, how can I help?’ I wave at Amy, and then she says, ‘Can you hold a moment, please?’ She covers the mouthpiece. ‘Bella,’ she whispers, waving me back, ‘he’s at the bistro on Margaret Street. I booked the reservation for him this morning, if that helps. If you hurry, you might catch him before he goes in. You lit just missed him.’

Power walking along Margaret Street, I knock into a commuter who stares at me, then sway to avoid a group of students, their laughter and banter ramming into my ears. I scan the street ahead for Tom’s familiar white mane, and then I spot him, waiting at the kerb for the lights to change. ‘Tom,’ I scream, ‘Tom.’ He turns around, eyes skimming the street, then turns back towards the traffic. I’m sprinting towards him, breath ragged. ‘Tom, wait up,’ I wheeze, and then we’re standing on the pavement, face to face, like strangers. Could the man I’ve been sharing my life with for sixteen years be a killer? Pedestrians skirt around us at the crossing, impatient to get across before the lights turn green, one man tuts loudly in my ear.

‘What’re you doing here?’ Tom asks, baffled. ‘Is everything okay? Is it Georgia?’

‘Georgia’s fine,’ I pant, catching my breath. ‘I need a word.’ He goes to object, says he’s seeing a contact. Can’t it wait until tonight? ‘No, it can’t. It’s important.’ I beckon towards a bustling pavement café. ‘Let’s grab a coffee.’

A few minutes later, we’re sitting at a table waiting for our drinks to arrive. ‘Well? Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I’ve an important meeting to get to.’ I give him a look suggesting what happened to his busy schedule. ‘It was unexpected. I had a cancellation. Look, what’s this about?’

‘Liam’s dead,’ I say, and his face pales.

‘Your ex-Liam?’ I shake my head. ‘Wow. When? Was he ill?’

‘Nothing like that. He was found dead in the woods. He’s the Limes Park victim.’

‘Jesus.’ Tom’s hands fly to the back of his head. ‘Poor sod. What a way to go.’ A dog barks. Children squeal. There must be a school nearby.

‘I know Liam came round looking for me that Friday evening,’ I say as a car horn screams in my ear. ‘I know you threatened him.’

Tom shakes his head, goes a bit red. ‘Bloody Daisy. I knew I couldn’t trust her. That woman has been nothing but trouble since we took her in. Bloody sponger. It’s obvious she’s got a thing for you,’ he scoffs, sounding as if Daisy is in love with me.

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ I snap. ‘Daisy’s been a godsend.’

‘Oh, get real. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.’ Lifting his hands up, he wriggles his fingers. ‘Bella, can I get you a coffee?’ he says in a baby voice. ‘I’ll clean the shower, Bella, you put your feet up. I’ll get the tea on tonight; you’ve had a long day.’

‘Daisy’s trying to help me out, that’s all. In case it slipped your mind, I’ve got a full-time job, a demanding teenage daughter, an ungrateful husband and a bloody huge house to clean because you’re too stingy to hire a cleaner.’

Tom rolls his eyes, lips dancing to the tune of sarcasm. ‘Why is she always borrowing your clothes, then? I caught her sniffing your dressing gown the other day. Don’t you think that’s a bit weird? Bloody two-faced bitch.’

‘It wasn’t Daisy who told me,’ I confess. Nearby, a group scrape their chairs against the pavement, preparing to leave. A blonde, thirty-something woman downs a cup of something quickly as a sharp-suited bloke in square rimmed glasses tugs at her arm, hurrying her along. ‘Well, not directly. Daisy confided in Zelda and …’

‘Oh, I might’ve known she’d have something to do with it,’ he laughs sardonically.

I immediately resent him for belittling my sister. ‘You’ve never gotten over what happened that night at the Temple Bar, have you?’

Tom screws up his face. ‘What’re you on about?’

‘For blowing you out,’ I hiss. On the night I first met Tom, I was out with Linda and Zelda. We ordered some cocktails at the bar – it was two for one happy hour. When Zelda handed the bartender her credit card, he nodded at Tom, who was at the other end of the bar with Toby, said it’d been taken care of. It wasn’t long before the guys made a beeline for us. I fancied Tom immediately, but he was more interested in Zelda. When she rejected him, he moved on to me. And the rest, as they say, is history.

‘A narrow escape, more like,’ he scoffs. ‘Woman’s a nutter.’

‘Rejection hurts, but you’ve held onto a grudge for far too long.’ Not to mention made me feel like shit for making it so obvious. Tom shakes his head; tells me I need therapy. ‘Anyway, I’m not here to discuss Daisy or Zelda. I want to know if…’ A waitress has appeared at my side with a tray of coffees. We sit in unbearable silence as she places two flat whites in front of us. Once she’s safely out of earshot, I round on him. ‘Did you have anything to do with Liam’s murder?’ I accuse, and his features twist in incredulous horror.

‘You truly have lost the plot.’ I stay silent, waiting. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘Well, you did threaten to kill him,’ I point out.

‘That was only a…’ A rosy-cheeked waiter interrupts with a bowl of sugar, which he places in front of me. ‘Did he tell you he was Georgia’s dad? Was that it? Did you tamper with that paternity test?’

‘Are you being serious?’ He tears a sachet of sugar and pours it into his drink.

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