Page 66 of The Girlfriend

The street was empty. She drew a sharp breath and looked up and down, but Cherry had gone.

The night was still and dark, with just small pools of light spreading a short distance from the foot of each streetlamp.

Then something else appeared from behind the wall of her opposite neighbor.

A fox. It saw her and stared brazenly for a moment before turning and trotting up the street.

The fear returned and Laura realized the door was open behind her.

Heart hammering, she quickly retreated and, slamming it shut, bolted it.

* * *

Daniel stared in bewilderment at the slammed door.

Cherry hadn’t wanted him to go and see his mum—that much was obvious.

Part of him didn’t blame her; she had, after all, been treated abominably but .

. . Oh, who knew? He suddenly felt exhausted and sat listlessly at the table.

The wineglasses, cutlery, napkins, even flowers, for God’s sake, suddenly seemed like a full-on attack, and then he instantly felt guilty.

She’d gone to a lot of trouble to make amends tonight.

Perhaps he was being inconsiderate, suggesting he go and visit Laura.

His phone beeped and he picked it up, expecting a photo of a wine label, Cherry’s suggestion for the evening, but it was a Facebook e-mail telling him of a message request. He didn’t immediately recognize the sender, and when he opened it, he read it, confused: Hi, Daniel, I hope you don’t mind me getting in touch, but there’s something I want to talk to you about.

Could you give me a call when you can? Thanks, Wendy

At the end of the message was a London phone number.

It took a second for him to realize the e-mail was from Cherry’s mother. He was curious as to why she could be messaging him, and something made him call back, there and then.

“Hello?”

“Wendy, it’s Daniel.”

“Blimey, you was quick.”

“I got your message. ”

“Oh, good.”

She was unforthcoming with much else and he felt he had to prompt. “You asked me to call.”

“I know, I know. Is Cherry with you?”

“No, she’s gone to the wine merchant.”

She fell silent and he realized he sounded a bit of a snob: wine merchant. But it wasn’t just that, it was as if she was plucking up the courage to say something.

“I found you on Facebook.”

“Okay.”

“This is extremely hard for me to say . . . but I feel I need to.” She paused. “Your mum came to see me the other day. She said some stuff that I didn’t like hearing. . . .”

Daniel could feel himself getting riled and must’ve exhaled or something, as Wendy continued with: “I know what you’re thinking.

She’s got it in for Cherry. And she has in a way but .

. . oh, God . . .” Wendy took a deep breath.

“This is about the worst thing I ever done, but . . . there’s a good chance your mum’s right. ”

“Oh, Wendy, no, no . . . you can’t let Mum get to you. She’s got a real problem with Cherry, and I’m really sorry about it, but—”

“Just shush and listen.” Wendy paused. “Like I said, I think she’s right.”

He had no choice but to ask. “Right about what?”

“Oh, my God, do I have to spell it out? It’s bad enough having to say this about me own daughter .

. .” She paused. “Cherry’s not as sweet and simple as she makes out.

She wants to win. She gets an idea in her head, and she wants it.

If that idea’s a life where she doesn’t have to work in some crappy job, like .

. . a supermarket, then she’ll do anything to get it.

And she’s not gonna give up easily, which is why she’s made your mum’s life hell, and I can’t say for sure where she’ll stop. ”

Daniel was playing with the fork on the table, pushing the tip of the handle so it sprang up in the air. Suddenly it clattered onto the floor.

“Are you still there?” said Wendy .

“Yes. I am.”

“I’m sorry to be saying this, and I wasn’t going to, but you was so nice to me.

That day we all went to lunch. Even though I gatecrashed your own time with Cherry, you was so friendly, made me feel really welcome, I’ll never forget it.

Anyway, I couldn’t just let you go on being in the dark or nothing.

And I know about the awful thing your mum done, but still .

. .” Wendy’s voice was wavering and Daniel could tell she was on the verge of tears.

“Listen up. When Cherry was a kid, about fourteen, she cut up a girl’s school shirt while she was out doing PE. Two holes in the front, just ’cause she nicked her idea in a school competition. Prize was fifty quid. The girl didn’t even win, Cherry did, but I think she was making a point.”

It was a small thing—a stupid, small thing that a teenager would do—why, then, did it make his blood run cold?

“Anyway, I think I’ve said enough, so I’m going. I’m sorry, Daniel. I feel like this is partly my fault. Like I didn’t bring her up right or something . . . I’ll be seeing yer, okay?” She hung up.

Daniel put the phone down on the table and stared uncomprehendingly around the room.

All of a sudden, the hole his mum had stubbornly, unwelcomely, been trying to pry open in his relationship had widened.

He didn’t know what to do with what Wendy had told him; he needed time to think.

He heard the sound of the key in the lock and jumped up as Cherry came in.

“‘Australian, savory and powerful, with intense spicy . . .’ What’s up?” She looked up from the label.

“Nothing,” he quickly reassured her.

“Something’s happened.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “Shall I open it?” She watched him as she handed it over, and he could tell she was deliberating on whether to press him; he was thankful this was a makeup dinner and she backed off.

Browbeating him was not on the menu. At the same time, he was disturbed by the strong, almost survivalist, feeling he had to keep his phone call with Wendy a secret.

He poured them both a glass as Cherry served up dinner.

It was delicious, but the conversation didn’t ever get into full gear.

They were both wary, unable to fully relax, and Cherry claimed a return of her headache.

The meal was eaten quickly and then they ended up in front of the TV.

At half past ten, neither saw much point in staying up longer, and they went into the bathroom separately and then got into bed.

“Do you fancy your book?” said Daniel, and Cherry knew by this that he did. He wanted to escape into something other than their evening.

“Actually, I might just crash,” she said, and switched out her light. “But you read.”

He did for about ten minutes before turning out his own light. As they lay in bed, Daniel sensed she was still awake. He called her name once, softly, but she didn’t reply.

Once she heard him drop off, she allowed her mind to tick.

She knew cracks were appearing. Something had happened tonight, something he was keeping from her.

Something that had made him suspicious. Cracks had a way of widening, deepening, faster and faster, as they took hold.

She had to resolve this soon or he’d slip away.