Chapter 28

Linda's eyes rocket towards me. ‘Don't look at me,' I say.

And then they start to squabble about Frank, their voices growing louder and louder in my ears – Linda denies it profusely but Zelda won't have it, says Linda ogling him at her dinner party didn't go unnoticed. Linda leaps to her feet and starts yelling, pointing her finger at Zelda, words flying from her full lips like bullets - she's not that desperate - has a real man on tap at home - she's risking her life and her marriage to help her tonight – what an ungrateful cow.

‘Enough.' I shoot to my feet and spread my arms out like an eagle. ‘Taking lumps out of each other isn't going to help. What's done is done. Let's all just calm down and figure out what we're going to do about…' I flick my head towards the garden, ‘Him. The room falls silent again. A fox screams. Someone's foot taps under the table. ‘Zelda, where did you put the weapon?'

‘I washed it and put it back on the microwave.'

‘What a stupid thing to do,' cries Linda, still reeling from Zelda's accusations.

‘I had to get his blood off my hands.'

A loud thump startles me. ‘What was that?' I ask.

‘It sounded like pounding,' Linda replies.

Zelda shrugs. ‘Probably the central heating. It's ancient. Startles me sometimes.'

‘So, anyway…' I continue. And then there's another thud, like a box being kicked. ‘There it is again?'

‘Must be a fox,' Zelda says, irritably, combing her hands through her hair. ‘Knocking something into that gaping hole next door. They're always doing it. Their builders chuck their empty pizza boxes on the floor. It's a haven for vermin.'

‘I saw that,' Linda pipes up, ‘what on earth are they doing?'

‘A basement,' Zelda whines, running a hand over her face, ‘and kitchen extension. It's been going on for eighteen months. They've made our lives a misery. Lillian, next door, spoke to them several times but they won't listen. She works from home, too.'

‘Eighteen months? That's taking the pee,' Linda protests. ‘We had that down our road during the first lockdown. Theo called the council and they issued them with a noise abatement order. They get fined up to five grand if they break it. That soon made them considerate neighbours. Why isn't it boarded up anyway? What if a child ran down there, or a dog? It looks dangerous.'

‘There was a panel with a door and lock, but it collapsed in the wind and they didn't bother replacing it.'

‘Surely, that's a health and safety issue,' I intervene.

‘Who fucking cares?' Zelda cries. ‘I've got more pressing things on my mind right now. Like a corpse in my garden.'

‘Sorry, you're right,' I say, and then there's another loud crash, like a building collapsing. ‘That's definitely no fox.'

We leap to our feet and race to the back door, knocking into each other in our haste. I rattle the handle but it won't open.

‘I locked it behind us,' Linda says, ‘and put the key on the side. I think. Where's it gone?'

‘Oh, fucking hell, Linda,' I yell.

‘The French doors in the lounge,' Zelda enthuses.

Zelda bolts out of the kitchen and we barrel after her. Once she finally finds the keys, she unlocks the patio doors, hands visibly trembling. We fly into the garden, panting, chests heaving, and then we all stop still and stare at each other, horrified. Frank has gone.