Page 65 of The Girlfriend

There was still a fairly high failure rate in this scheme, though. It would depend on the person being irritated enough to bat the insect away, and the bee actually releasing a sting.

Hmm . . . what about drowning? It would require a strong current—and no observers. Poisoning . . . ? Oh, why couldn’t Laura have been different? Why is she so possessive, so insistent that I’m not good enough for her beloved son?

By lunchtime, she was feeling a lot better. Of course, she wasn’t intending to go round to Laura’s house and put bleach in her tea, but it had been good therapy to speculate.

* * *

After lunch, Cherry went shopping for the ingredients for her makeup dinner and then started cooking.

The tagine filled the flat with the scent of cinnamon, bay, and cumin, and the meringue roulade stood regally on the worktop.

At half past six, she set the table; twenty minutes later, Daniel came home.

She waited for him to come into the kitchen.

Straightaway she saw that she’d done the right thing.

The sight of the table, with its carefully laid-out wineglasses and cutlery, raised a smile and diffused the coolness between them.

“What’s this?” he said.

“My way of saying sorry. For being a miserable old bag yesterday.”

“You were a bit.”

“Hey!”

He put down his keys and wallet. “I was worried. Still am. Is everything okay?”

She smiled. “Of course, it is. Like I said, I was just having a bad day. Honestly. Have you seen the pudding?”

Daniel came over to investigate the long, white, sugary, twirled dessert oozing with cream and strawberry compote. He stuck his finger in and made a face of appreciation. “That is good . ”

Relieved to be off the subject of the night before, Cherry smiled. “You have a good day?”

“Saw an angioplasty.”

“Is that where they open up a blocked artery?”

“The patient visibly improved right there, in front of my eyes. Blood started flowing better around his body and his skin tone changed immediately.”

“Must be amazing to see.”

“It is.” He paused. “Mum rang me today. Left a message. First time in weeks.”

It was like a knife in her back, but she forced herself to stay casual. Took the couscous out of the packet and tipped it in a bowl.

“I feel bad. Don’t like falling out. She sounded upset.”

“What did she say?”

“Same as the others. That she was sorry. Wanted to make amends.”

Cherry nodded matter-of-factly.

“It’s difficult for me—you do see that?”

“I know.”

“I don’t like you two not getting on,” he said with a sigh. “My fiancée and my mum. You should be on shouting terms, at least.”

Cherry smiled at his lame joke.

“Can’t we try and work something out? And you know, we still haven’t told her about the engagement.”

“Of course! Nothing would make me happier.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She kissed him. “It makes me sad when we don’t get on and you’re caught in the middle.

” She turned to open the oven and check the tagine, well aware she’d left Daniel taken aback at how easy it had been to persuade her.

Men liked a nonconfrontational life, but she knew what she’d said was too easy, and nothing had actually been resolved.

Neither would it be, but by the time he realized that, and brought it up again, Laura would have disappeared—hopefully.

“That smells delicious,” he said, looking at the tagine. He put his arms around her and kissed her on the back of the neck. “Thank you, Cherry. You’re amazing. I know she hasn’t made things easy for you and I appreciate your not holding it against her.”

“Careful, hot!”

“I feel I should go and see her.”

Cherry turned. “What? Tonight?”

“Only for half an hour or so. After dinner. Is that a problem? She’s been having a rough time. You know, with the divorce and everything.”

A wave of panic crashed over her. The last thing she wanted was Daniel getting the full story of how Laura had been to see Wendy. “I’m . . . just not feeling that good, that’s all.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s not much, just that headache. From last night.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to think quickly. “Can’t seem to get rid of it.”

He waited a moment and then said: “You need to sit down. Go on, I’ll just take a shower, then finish the couscous.

’ ” She allowed herself to be led into the living room and onto the lemon sofa.

As soon as he left the room and she heard the shower run, she sat up.

The tense, nervy feeling escalated. It was like the devil on her back and no matter how she sat, she was restless, wanted to escape from it.

She put some music on to try and blast it away.

Then she lay back down on the sofa and closed her eyes, trying not to think about the fly buzzing around her head.

“I thought you had a headache?” Daniel had walked in, wearing a clean T-shirt and jeans, hair tousled and wet from the shower. Rufus had followed him and was jumping around, trying to lick his ankles.

She started. “I do. I mean, I took a tablet.”

“They don’t work that fast,” he said, turning down the volume.

Damn him for being a doctor, she thought, knowing he was right and she couldn’t argue. Instead she threw the full radiance of her smile at him. “You’ve cheered me up. I think the stress of the move has been getting to me.”

“You’re not happy to be here?”

She looked at him in surprise. “I’m extremely happy.” She wanted to ask, “Aren’t you?” but something stopped her. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Shall we eat?”

He followed her into the kitchen. “Glass of wine?”

Her face fell. “Oh no!”

“What?”

“I forgot the wine!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I mean I wanted everything to be perfect.” She grabbed her purse. “I’ll just go downstairs to Henry’s, get a bottle of Shiraz or something. It’s time for Rufus’s walk anyway,” she said, holding his exuberant body still as she clipped on his leash.

“You don’t have to.”

She was already out the door. “Why don’t you hold off on the couscous till I get back. You know what he’s like, doesn’t always perform when you want him to.”

The door slammed behind her and she tried to still her rapid breathing.

She didn’t wait for the elevator, hurrying down the stairs instead, with Rufus all eager pedaling legs behind her.

The fresh air helped to calm her and she walked the short distance to the wine shop, then tied Rufus up outside.

There were usually a handful of customers discussing wine with the importance of a peace treaty, but she was the only one in the shop and was served quickly.

Clutching her bottle in a thick plastic bag, she stood outside.

She wasn’t ready to go back to the flat, not enough time had passed for the atmosphere to dissipate, and so she untied Rufus from the post and took him for the walk she’d claimed he needed.

* * *

Laura sat and flicked through the channels, irritated by the lack of quality television.

She did not want to watch another lifestyle show flimsily dressed up as a serious cooking program.

Unsettled, as usual, on her own, she had spent the day mooching around the house feeling agitated.

After her disastrous visit to Wendy, she was at a loss as to what to do next.

There was nothing she could do, and this frightened her, made her feel like a sitting duck .

Laura considered checking her phone again, but she already knew that Daniel hadn’t replied to the message she’d left. The hollow ache in her chest flared up and she stood quickly, looking for a distraction. She would try to read some of her book.

She went upstairs to her bedroom, but the book wasn’t on the bedside table as she’d thought.

In a knee-jerk panic, she wondered if anyone had been in the house.

Only Mrs. Moore, she remembered, with a tinge of embarrassment.

Perhaps she’d moved the book elsewhere when she’d cleaned.

Laura looked across at the windowsill; then pulling the curtains back a touch, she found the book and was about to let the curtain drop again, when a movement outside caught her eye.

Cherry was standing on the opposite pavement, under the streetlight, staring up at the house.

Laura instantly recoiled, dropping the curtain.

It fell partially closed, leaving a small sliver of a gap, a dazzling slice of light into which Laura knew Cherry could see perfectly.

If she wanted to leave the room, Laura would have to cross this opening.

She stood there, scrunched up into herself, backed into the wall.

... God, I am cowering . She stared at the back of the curtain, an angry whimper escaping, before she pulled her breath in sharply.

I mustn’t let her do this . But Laura was paralyzed.

She stood there for what seemed like ages, unable to decide whether to look again, to see if Cherry was still there, when she heard a dog barking.

A small dog, as it was a light, happy sound .

. . or perhaps a puppy. A puppy. Laura pulled the curtains back and there, being coerced by Cherry out of the opposite neighbor’s garden, was a brown cocker spaniel puppy.

It bounded around her, tangling itself in its leash and licking her hand as she bent down to stroke it.

Laura stared. The same as the one sent to her actress. The one Cherry had killed. What the hell is she doing coming around to the house.... My God, she’s taunting me.

Then suddenly Cherry looked up and Laura was filled with a frenzied rage at her casual arrogance. Without thinking, she dropped the curtain and ran downstairs so fast she almost tripped. She flung open the front door and launched herself onto the pavement.