Chapter 12

‘I'm sure I know you from somewhere.' Frank points his small silver fork at Tom, swinging it up and down, elbow on the table, and Linda's body slumps with relief. Widening her eyes at me, head slightly down and inclined, Linda gives me alook, and I raise my eyebrows, just a fraction, in acknowledgement.

‘Can't recall, sorry,' Tom says.

Frank narrows his eyes. ‘I can't quite place you.' No, because you're a liar. You've only seen him on my phone's screensaver and are trying to wind me up.

‘Tom's got one of those faces,' Zelda teases, polishing off her cake while Tom pokes his tongue out at her playfully. ‘Urgh. Please, I've just eaten.'

‘You might've seen him at the opticians,' Linda offers, slurring slightly, ‘no pun.' She laughs into her glass at her own joke. I look at the empty bottle in front of her. It's our sixth. ‘Tom works in a practice in Hadley Green.'

Frank shakes his head, eyes on Tom. ‘Zelda tells me you're a top optometrist.' So that's how he knew so much about Tom. Knowing Zelda, she bigged him up. Probably told him Tom's a partner. Tom shrugs modestly, even though I know he's loving the attention. ‘But, no, my optician is local. Been seeing him for a few years.' He widens his dark eyes. ‘Contacts.' I didn't know that. This might explain the blinking. ‘Don't worry, it'll come to me. I never forget a face,' he says, shooting a glance at Theo. Was that a dig at Linda?

We all fall silent for a few moments. I help myself to another slice of cake, look at Tom's half-eaten wedge on his plate, and sit back down. ‘It was all delicious, Linda, thank you,' I say, and everyone mirrors my sentiments.

‘It was an absolute pleasure. Thank you all so much for coming.' Polly meows at Linda, and Zelda looks down at the cat, smiling, as Frank reaches out and strokes Polly's fur.

‘So, Muscles,' Tom says, waving his index finger from Frank to Zelda. ‘How did you two love birds meet?' The burning question I've been dying to ask all evening. I fork a piece of cake.

Zelda and Frank exchange glances, grinning. ‘Do you want to tell them, babe, or shall I?' Frank asks, wiping a bit of crumb from Zelda's top lip with a napkin. A foot touches mine under the table and I shoot Frank a look, but he's gazing at Zelda like a puppy. Is he playing footsy with me while making eyes at my sister, or was it accidental?

Zelda leans forward, forearms on the table, showing a bit of cleavage. I take in her sea-blue eyes, framed in black eyeliner and smoky eyeshadow, and her cerise stained lips. Zelda's always been a stunner. A natural beauty. But it's not like my sister to wear revealing clothes and so much makeup. I can see her black lacy bra beneath her sheer navy low-cut blouse, dotted with white and pink flowers, which she's stylishly teamed up with white jeans and white stilettos. She looks amazing, but it's not her style. Zelda's more Bohemian. Usually barefaced, bar a sweep of mascara and a splash of lip gloss when she's going out out, she lives in hoodies, loungers, floaty dresses, long skirts and baggy jumpers. I hope she isn't changing her style to please Frank.

‘Wellllll,' Zelda begins, ‘Keiko is one of my customers.' I almost choke on a mouthful of cake and Zelda gives me a miniscule frown. ‘We met online. He emailed about an order. Bella knows all this.' I look at her aghast. No, I don't. I thought you met him by fluke on Bumble or something. ‘A few days later, he rang and ordered a cake for his Nan's ninetieth as a surprise, no expense spared.' Everyone Awws when she says this, apart from Tom who asks if I'm okay and tops up my glass from the water jug on the table.

Clearing my throat, I reach for my glass, and as Zelda continues to relay their love story, my brain starts turning like a Rubik's cube. Frank looked Zelda up on my Followers list on Instagram – wasn't sure if he'd fancy her (her profile picture is a Victoria Sponge), messaged her with a cake enquiry. When he discovered she offers free local deliveries, he placed an order so that he could check her out. Of course, he liked the look of her, who wouldn't? Zelda's the better-looking sister, but we're still quite similar – slanty blue eyes (hers are bigger and bluer) straight nose that tips at the end, wide mouth. I swallow back a ball of fear that is climbing up my throat as I solve the puzzle in my head. This is no fluke. No coincidence. Frank hunted my sister down like a prey. But why? What's his agenda?

‘Nothing like word of mouth,' Tom enthuses, breaking me out of my musing. ‘You'll be hiring staff soon, Zee. Who recommended her, Frank? Was it you, darling?' Inadvertently, yes. I shake my head at the crumbs on my plate in front of me.

Frank takes a sip from his coffee cup, swallowing. ‘I came across her on Instagram while I was searching for a local baker.' I give him a sharp look. A search through my followers, more like. ‘Nan loved the cake and asked me to thank her. I messaged Zelda a few days later and the rest…' Frank's voice fades.

‘Aww…how romantic,' Linda coos, finishing off the last bit of lemon drizzle and licking the spoon at Frank. Linda is now completely pissed. A chair scrapes against the floorboards. A phone buzzes. My eyes skim around the table – Tom is reading a message, Zelda is reaching over for a coffee refill, but Theo's eyes are burning into Frank. I can't let this go on. Frank is toxic. He's only been in our lives five minutes and he's already causing havoc.

I lean across the table. ‘Zee,' I whisper, while Frank tells Linda about his nan's birthday party in her residential home. ‘Can I have a quick word, please?'

‘Sure.' Zelda nods, worry flashing across her face. ‘Shall we go in the kitchen?'

Zelda slides her chair back, and just as she's about to stand, Frank turns to her. ‘Everything all right, babe?' Leaning forward, he whispers something in her hair, and Zelda tucks her legs back under the table, grinning at her plate, then throws me an apologetic glance.

‘I wish this one was more like you, Frank.' Linda says drunkenly into her glass and everyone ignores her, apart from Theo who is looking at her sternly, and blatantly ignoring Tom who is in the middle of telling him about a true crime podcast he's listening to and is now talking to himself.

Frank isn't going to let me speak to my sister in private, is he? I sigh, defeated, as Tom awkwardly relays the rest of his story to Zelda, in a save face fashion, who is trying to look interested but hasn't a clue what he's on about. I decide very quickly that I'll ring my sister first thing, suggest meeting up at the artisan café near her flat then tell her everything. We all need to go home anyway. Linda's had too much to drink and is on the brink of destruction.

‘Sorry about that, Bells.' Zelda leans forward, securing her hair behind her ear and whispers, ‘Come on, let's have that chat now.'

‘No, It's fine. It'll keep,' I say, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘Can you do breakfast tomorrow? Zelda nods. ‘Great. I'll text you.' I look at the time on my phone – 11.01. ‘Right, I suppose we'd best make a move,' I announce, breaking the tension between Theo and Linda. ‘Busy day ahead tomorrow. I'll just text Daisy,' I say to Tom, picking up my mobile.

‘You two need to come over to ours,' Tom says to Frank and Zelda as I start typing, ‘for a proper catch-up. Isn't that right, darling?'

I murmur in agreement, head down, thumbs flying over the tiny keyboard, taking Tom's suggestion tongue in cheek. Zelda will dump Frank once I tell her the truth about him tomorrow.

‘How about tomorrow night? We're free, Bella, aren't we?' A hand clenches around my heart. ‘Blow the cobwebs off the barbie.'

‘Only if you're sure, Bella,' Zelda offers, sensing my reluctance.

‘Of course, she's sure,' Tom says. ‘Why don't you two come as well?' Theo and Linda exchange glances, shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads, as if to say, why not?

There's no way Frank is stepping foot inside our house. I try to suppress the heat working its way into my cheeks but it's no good, my face tingles. I need to think of an excuse. ‘MetOffice said rain tomorrow, Tommy. And it's too cold for a barbeque, anyway.'

Tom waves a hand. ‘A bit of rain won't stop us,' he says drunkenly. ‘Will it Theo? It wouldn't be the first time.' I visualise the one we had last February to celebrate Zelda's birthday. Tom poking hot coals on the wet grass. Theo next to him holding a huge red umbrella. Linda, Zelda and I cowering beneath raincoats, aloft over our heads like white-sheeted apparitions, dashing to and fro with platters covered in silver foil, feet water-logged and soggy. It was one of the best barbeques we'd had.

I clear my throat. ‘Um…what about Daisy?'

‘She can come too,' Tom jokes.

‘Look, sorry, guys, don't want to be a party pooper but Zelda and I won't be able to make it, I'm afraid,' Frank announces, and the hand releases its hold around my heart.