Page 69 of The Girlfriend

No, what she needed was to check his phone.

That would hold the most likely source as he’d been fine until she’d come back from getting the wine.

He must’ve spoken to someone or heard from someone while she was out.

Fully expecting to snoop when he was in the shower, she was annoyed to see he took it into the bathroom with him so he could play music from his iTunes.

The phone didn’t leave him for longer than a minute, two perhaps after that, and before long he was kissing her good-bye and leaving the apartment, taking her source of intelligence with him.

She sat heavily on the lemon sofa. For once, she was stumped and realized she’d just have to wait until he came home and then engineer a situation where he was away from his phone and she could check it without being caught.

She kicked herself for not thinking of this first thing—and now she was wasting a whole day.

In order to get his mind on his return, she sent him a text, something suggestive, lighthearted, and teasing, which sent the message that she was oblivious to his suspicion and dying to shag him.

Hopefully, one or the other would distract him and/or bring him home as soon as possible so she could get another look at his phone.

Cherry idled the day away, waiting, thinking, planning how to get to his phone and practicing how to deal with the outcome.

There was a good chance it was Laura who had called and she held imaginary conversations with Daniel while pacing the room, distressed yet calm: “Daniel, I don’t know what to say.

We know she’s intent on driving me away.

Do you not think she’s a little—I don’t know how to say this— obsessive ? ”

She also rehearsed her hurt reaction to the accusations so many times, she was beginning to believe her own denials.

It was a good sign. In the breaks, she treated herself to some wedding websites, starting to plan where it would be, what she would wear.

It wasn’t as much fun as it should have been, because she couldn’t fully relax until things with Daniel were back on an even keel.

When he came home, Cherry went to the front door to greet him, solicitously taking his bag and massaging his shoulders.

“That’s nice,” he said appreciatively, rolling his neck, but he didn’t stand there long and made his way into the kitchen to get a drink. “I said I’d go and see Mum tonight—if it’s not too late for her,” he said as he poured water into a glass.

It was one of the scenarios she’d predicted. “It’s well past ten,” said Cherry, acting surprised, but without bitterness, careful not to alienate him. For the first time since he’d come in, he looked her in the eye and she kept up the appearance of nonchalance.

“I know. She might be asleep. I left her a message telling her to call if she’s still up for it.

” He kissed her briefly. “I’ll just get a shower,” and he went into the bathroom, but this time, he left his phone on the worktop.

Excitement flared inside her, but she waited until she could hear the water running and was about to pick up the phone when it started to ring.

Startled, she snatched her hand away. Mum was illuminated on the screen.

Cherry waited for the rings to finish and then came the blip to say there was a message.

She picked up the phone and dialed into Daniel’s mailbox.

“Daniel, I missed your call. I still want to meet. You said you’d still be up? Please, can you come over? Maybe you’re in the shower or something . . . let me know. I’ll wait up, so don’t worry about it being late.”

Cherry didn’t want him to go over. She needed more time, didn’t need anything to accelerate the already-fast-burning touchpaper.

She pressed 3 to delete and then got rid of the text announcing the voice mail as well.

Next she looked at the call history. Laura’s call was listed at the top and, in a couple of swipes, she deleted it.

She scrolled down through the remaining calls from what she supposed were work colleagues, Will, his dad, and then she saw it.

It wasn’t listed as a name, but as the number in full.

The only one she knew by heart, as she’d lived there.

Her mother’s house. Her mum and Daniel had had a conversation at eight thirty-seven the night before.

Quickly she thought back. It was exactly the time she’d gone out to get the wine.

Her heart was pounding. So he knew everything, or at least enough.

That’s why he could hardly look her in the eye when she’d come back, and why he’d been distracted and distant since.

It was also why he was going to see Laura tonight.

Except he wasn’t, she reminded herself quickly.

She’d removed the message. Cherry often found that her brain was at its optimum under pressure, she got a physical buzz from solving problems against a ticking clock, and tonight was no different.

In fact, tonight was inspired, genius, and most of all felt like exactly the right thing to do.

She would go and see Laura.

Cherry felt an odd sense of fatalism, as if by recognizing what to do, she’d started a sequence of events. She didn’t know what they were yet, but somehow knew they would hold her answer.

Cherry had to prepare herself and quickly.

The shower had gone off and he’d be dressed in a minute.

She scrabbled around the kitchen and grabbed two slices of bread, slathered them with mayo, and put in some sliced beef and arugula.

Poured a fresh glass of water and put them both on the worktop, just as he came in.

“Expect you’re hungry. Thought this would be quick, especially if you end up going to see your mum.”

He looked touched by her thoughtfulness. “Thanks. Has my phone rung?”

She shook her head. Daniel checked the kitchen clock and she followed his gaze. It was ten to eleven.

“I said I’d give her half an hour. I’ll eat this, and then if she hasn’t called, she’s probably crashed.”

Cherry watched attentively as he wolfed down the sandwich. After he finished, hands clasped, he stretched his arms up in the air, expelling the tiredness of the day. Then he picked up his phone again and Cherry held her breath, wondering if he was going to call Laura. But he put it back down.

“Might crash, myself,” he said. “I’m on a six a.m. shift tomorrow.”

“Don’t blame you,” said Cherry, putting his plate in the dishwasher.

“Sorry, I haven’t been much company tonight, have I?” He yawned, a massive tidal wave of exhaustion that took him by surprise.

“Go to bed,” Cherry said sternly. “I’ll join you in a minute, just going to put this on,” and she started to fill the dishwasher with powder.

She deliberately took her time, and when she went to the bedroom, he was, to her satisfaction, fast asleep.

Cherry congratulated herself on her sandwich.

She’d added half a Zopiclone, left over from the days just after Daniel had “died,” when she thought she’d lost everything and had had trouble sleeping.

A half would be effective enough to put him into a deep slumber, but not so powerful he’d have any telltale signs in the morning.

She’d crushed it into powder and the peppery garlic mayonnaise had helped disguise the faint taste.

There was only one thing left to do. She took Daniel’s phone, which he’d left charging on the worktop, sent a text, and then deleted the record: Sorry, was in the shower. Coming over now.

* * *

“I thought it was time we resolved this . . . difference of opinion,” started Cherry tactfully.

Laura was just staring at her, looking a little moronic, if Cherry was honest. It made Cherry feel good, honorable even, that she was prepared to offer an olive branch.

“Instead of you continually trying to push me out and me . . . retaliating”—she saw Laura stiffen at this subtle acknowledgment of her schemes—“why don’t we just quit before it gets out of hand? ”

What was wrong with Laura? Why was she still staring as if she’d had a lobotomy or something? She clearly had to spell it out. She moved forward and saw Laura flinch.

“Stop being so jumpy. I just fancy a sit-down, that’s all.” She led Laura into her own living room and relaxed onto the sofa. Laura was still standing, framing the doorway.

“I suppose it’s too much to ask for a drink .

. . ? Oh, never mind. Let me just say what I came here to say.

I’ve tried really hard, Laura, to fit in, to be a good person, ideal girlfriend for Daniel.

. . .” Remembering something, she looked around the room and laughed ruefully.

“I was so nervous that day I came for supper, the first time we met, and all you did was make me feel like an outsider. It was you and Daniel, no room for anyone else. But I’m not on the outside, not anymore, and you just can’t seem to get that.

But I’m prepared to forget about everything.

We should be friends. I want us to be friends. ”

Eventually Laura spoke. “Are you mad?”

Cherry looked around, as if Laura was addressing someone else. “No. I really don’t know what I’ve done to make you dislike me so much.”

Incredulous, Laura opened her mouth to speak, but Cherry knew what she was going to say and it irritated her.

“Oh, I know, the puppy, the letter to Marianne, although Howard decided to divorce you himself,” she added spitefully, “but those things were after you’d been such a bitch to me.

That lie . . . it was . . . unforgivable. ”

Laura flinched.

“Can’t argue with it, can you? I was just giving you a little taste of your own medicine.” Cherry got up and pushed past Laura into the kitchen. The room was shadowy, lit only by the under-cupboard lights.

“Do I have to make myself a drink?” She sighed, getting a bottle of juice out of the fridge.