Chapter 45

We're snuggled together on the sofa, watching a rerun of Would I Lie to You on Dave. The barely audible cackle of laughter and the buzz of the panel's voices fill the soothing silence. With the exception of Tom getting up briefly to make us both a Vodka Martini to celebrate the news, we haven't moved an inch. I moved through that period of tiredness. Makeup sex might've had something to do with that, and I'm now awake and alert. Tom is high as a kite. It's almost as if he's become a father again for the first time.

‘Shall we go up?' Tom's voice breaks into my thoughts. ‘It's almost one in the morning.'

‘In a minute.' I snuggle closer to him, not wanting this moment to end.

Tom sighs. ‘I meant what I said,' he says, playing with my hair. ‘It wouldn't have made a difference if Georgia wasn't mine. But God, it's a relief to know she is, do you know what I mean?' I murmur in agreement. ‘Your hair's grown. I like it. Why don't you leave it long again?'

‘I like this length.' I look up at him indignantly. ‘Don't you like it?'

‘Of course I do. You always look lovely.' Even with all the fat I've accumulated? I don't think so. But I take the compliment and snuggle against him, hearing the soft rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. ‘I knew you'd tell me, you know. That's why I held on to the DNA report.' He wraps his arms around me, chin resting on my head. ‘You're rubbish at keeping secrets from me.'

‘Hmmm…' I murmur. Apart from one big, fat one that could give me a custodial sentence. ‘I certainly…' I begin, and then there's a thunder of footsteps on the stairwell, followed by Georgia belting into the room, face flushed with anger.

‘What the actual fuck?'

‘Language,' I say, pulling away from Tom.

‘What is it, Georgie?' Tom asks, tucking his shirt back into his trousers quickly. ‘Why aren't you asleep?'

‘Flies,' I mime, dropping my gaze and Tom quickly does up his zip, while Georgia's eyes dart around the room wildly, muttering obscenities – she can't fucking believe it – we're so fucking lame. I just about manage to grab my bra off the seat next to me and shove it behind the cushion before she averts her gaze back to us. She nods at our cocktails on the coffee table. ‘How many of those have you two had?' She looks at her phone. ‘It's gone one. I thought you were still out.'

‘We've been home ages,' I say. ‘Didn't you hear us come in?'

Georgia readjusts her silky blonde hair, which she's loosely tied into a bun on top of her head, face set in annoyance. ‘I fell asleep watching TV.' She eyes me up and down suspiciously. ‘It's ridiculously late. Shit, man.'

Tom gets to his feet, hands on hips. ‘Calm down, Georgie. We're the parents, not you. And less of all that swearing. That's not how we brought you up.' He side-glances me. ‘This is all that lad's influence from number nineteen.' He throws a finger in the direction of the front door. ‘Rebellious little shit. Did you hear the lip he was giving his mother the other day?'

‘Ralf's not that bad,' I protest, ‘Anna's a good disciplinarian. He's at that age.'

‘Why aren't you picking up your bloody phones?' Georgia demands. Her eyes flit from me and rest on Tom, narrowing in irritation.

Tom sits back down and peers at his handset on the coffee table. ‘Nothing on mine. Oh, wait. Two missed calls earlier. I had it on silent.'

‘Mine was switched off,' I admit. Tom's suggestion so that we could enjoy the evening without interruption. ‘Were you trying to get a hold of us, Georgie?' I stand up and go over to her. ‘Is everything all right? You're not ill, are you?' I go to touch her forehead but she ducks like a professional boxer.

‘Mother, can you please put your phone back on?' she snaps, looking straight ahead at a bronze sculpture of a naked woman on the sideboard. A housewarming gift from Mum, which none of us really like. ‘Auntie Zelda and Linda have been driving me nuts all night.' My heart stops. Why have they been phoning Georgia? It must have something to do with Frank. My pulse quickens. ‘Jesus, you two. I'm not your fuuuc...' Tom gives her a look and the F word dies on her lips. ‘I'm not your personal assistant. Grrr…I hate my life.'

Georgia stomps across the room, then collapses onto the sofa as far away as possible from her dad and starts texting, hands flying over the lit-up screen frantically. Acid whooshes in my stomach. Something is very wrong. Snatching my bag off the floor, I unzip it hurriedly, pull out my phone and switch it back on. The white apple flashes and then my phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes – 10 missed calls from Zelda. 6 missed calls from Linda. 12 new messages.

Linda:

Message 1 – Bells, please pick up.

2 – Where are you?

3 – Ring me now. Urgent.

4 – Pls call asap. William sniffing.

William is our code for Old Bill. A wave of fear washes over me and merges with the nausea that is swishing in my stomach. The police have been round to Linda's. Frank must've reported us, or worse still, been found dead. I quickly retrieve Zelda's messages with cold, tremulous fingers.

Message 1 – Bella. Please. Where are you?

2 – Pick up!!!!

3. I'm ringing Tom.

4 – Bloody answerphone.

5 – Georgia says you're not back.

6 - Call me NOW!!!

7 - It's URGENT.

8 - At police station. They've brought me in for questioning.

A chill runs charges through my body. Zelda's been arrested. It's over. I need to contact Sean, our solicitor. I open my Contacts app and start scrolling.

‘Bella, what is it?' Tom's voice.

‘I've got to ring Sean…I…' The handset shakes in my trembling hands.

‘It's the middle of the night. You can't ring him now. What's happened?'

‘Zelda, she's at the station and…I…'

‘Oh, the police came round,' Georgia says, matter-of-factly.

Our heads snap up in synchronisation. ‘The police?' Tom says, incredulously.

‘When? What did they say?' I ask in a panicky voice. ‘Georgia, what did they say?' I demand, and Tom gives me a look.

‘All right. Keep your hair on, Mother. About nineish.' Georgia's eyes don't leave her phone. ‘Daisy spoke to them. I think they were looking for you, Mum.'

Getting to his feet, Tom shoves his hands into his pockets, shooting a worried glance at me. ‘Why is Zelda at the police station, Bella, and why do the police want to question you? What did she say in her texts? Has Frank been back? Did he hurt her?'

‘No. I don't know,' I whimper, waving the phone at him as if Zelda will materialise from it like a genie and back me up. ‘I've got to go to her.' I start rifling through my bag. ‘Where are my car keys?'

‘Bella, you've just knocked back a large vodka martini. You're in no fit state to drive. Is she still there?'

‘I'm not sure,' I mumble absently. ‘She must be. Oh, here they are…' I shoot to my feet.

‘Everything okay?' Daisy is standing in the doorway in a new dressing gown. It's a pink fleece and has her initial on the breast pocket.

‘Oh, Daisy, I hope we didn't wake you,' I say, even though I know we did. Daisy shakes her head. ‘Georgia said the police were here earlier.'

Daisy nods. ‘They asked if you were home and if I knew where Zelda lived. I said no, of course. I'm no grass.' She says this in a tone suggesting that Zelda and I are criminals and that she is on our side because she's cut from the same cloth. Tom stiffens next to me. I want to die. ‘I told them I'm the new home help, don't know a thing.' Daisy shrugs, glances at her nails, which are freshly manicured. Tom nods, tells her she did right by not getting involved in our family affairs, and she blinks, throws him a tight smile. ‘They gave me this.' She fishes in her pocket and pulls out a business card and hands it to me. ‘Said if you could give them a call in the morning.' I look at the card – DC Pernice. ‘Are you okay, Bella? You've gone very pale.'

Georgia looks up from her phone, tells me to get some sleep, that I'm not getting any younger. Daisy gently reprimands her, reminds her that fifty is the new thirty. I'm not quite fifty yet, I want to say, but gnaw my thumbnail instead. Frowning, Tom gives me a worried look, then turns up the volume on the TV. It's a newsflash. ‘Look, it's that man they found in Limes Park last Monday.' Man? What man? ‘I heard it on the radio this morning. Only up the road from Zelda's. They must've identified him. Poor sod. I knew he'd…'

Tom is talking but I'm no longer listening, something about Georgia, football and parks and never letting her go out alone again. I turn my head towards the TV in a daze, as if everything has stopped - time, my pulse, movement. The headlines, in bold white font against a thick red strip at the bottom of the screen, sway in my vision – Limes Park Murder Investigation. It must be Frank's body. I look at Daisy, who is now sitting on the armrest of Georgia's chair, then at Tom. His lips are moving, but I can no longer decipher what he's saying. A message buzzes through on my phone. I look down at it in horror.

Zelda – It's all over. I'm done 4.x