Page 20 of The Psychopath Next Door

‘She might be busy.’

‘She’s always busy.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Rose, I’ll talk to your mum when she gets home. Okay?’

‘Butyouthink it’s all right?’ Before I had a chance to reply she said, ‘Thanks, Dad. Please try to make her see sense.’

I found myself saying, ‘I’ll try.’

She ran up the stairs, shouting, ‘Bye, Fiona,’ as she went.

I met Fiona’s eye. ‘Why do I feel like I’ve just been twisted around someone’s finger?’

She laughed. ‘Dads and daughters. But, listen, if it makes either you or Emma feel uncomfortable, I won’t be offended. I just want you to know the offer’s there. It would be my pleasure.’

‘Thank you. What is your new job, by the way? The one you start in September?’

‘If I told you the details you’d die of boredom, but I’ll be working for a bank. Right, I’d better get back to Karma.’ She paused. ‘Taylor Swift. I must remember that. Maybe listen to some of her music?’

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from offering to make her a playlist. Instead, I said, ‘I’m sure Rose will insist on it.’

Fiona ran one hand along her bare arm. I could see all the fine little hairs standing on end, as if she were cold. Maybe she didn’t feel the heat, having grown up in Western Australia. Perhaps she didn’t think this scorching weather was actually hot.

‘Rose is so lucky, having a cool dad who knows about music and stuff.’

‘That’s what I keep telling her.’

‘I might not be as cool as you, but I promise if you let me look after her we’ll have fun.’ She looked me in the eye, biting her lower lip. ‘It will be the best summer of her life.’

8

Fiona stood in her steamy bathroom, the fan whirring and attempting to suck the moisture from the room. She reached out to the mirror and wrote the three names.

She circled the top one before rubbing them out with her palm, and she smiled.

All the plans she’d made in prison.

Finally, it was happening.

‘Where are we going?’

Fiona and Rose sat opposite each other in the packed train carriage, which had filled up after they’d boarded at Sanderstead: a noisy group of teenagers, parents taking their kids into London to seek school holiday entertainment, businesspeople heading to meetings. Fiona breathed in through her nose and out through pursed lips, practising the exercises she’d learned years ago, the ones that helped her maintain control when surrounded by too many people. Their noise, their inane conversations, worst of all theirstink. It was hard to focus on her excitement – the beginning of her summer project – when she was surrounded by so many bleatingsheep. Rose had to repeat her question several times before Fiona realised the girl was talking.

‘Sorry, Rose. Where are wegoing? Well, I promised your dad this would be an educational summer and today is going to be about history. And architecture.’

‘Architecture?’

Fiona smiled. ‘It’ll be fun. Trust me.’ She found that, by concentrating on Rose’s face, her freckles, the gap between her teeth, she was able to block out the noise and smell of the herd, including the sweaty man beside her, who kept scratching his beard, flakes of skin – illuminated by the sunlight that streamed through the train’s windows – falling into his lap like pathetic snow.

‘We’ll go to the park too,’ she said as a sweetener. ‘Get an ice cream.’

Rose frowned with confusion, and Fiona sensed it was because she didn’t know how open to be with her. Fiona wanted to tell her it was fine for her to be completely herself. That she could reveal her inner thoughts and that Fiona wouldn’t judge her. But there were too many people around. That conversation would have to wait.

Scratch scratch, went the man beside her. He was in his thirties, staring at his phone, fingernails too long.

‘It’s great that your mum agreed to this,’ Fiona said.

Emma had been round to see her last night, after she got home from work. Apparently Rose had been texting her mum all afternoon, making the case for why hanging out with Fiona for the next few weeks would be better for her than going to the holiday club.

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