Restless, she jumped out of bed. Those old married couples in the news who always said never to go to sleep without resolving an argument were right. She shouldn’t have left it to fester while they slept. She had to make amends and decided to surprise him when he came home with a nice meal. A cliché, she knew, but it would work. She wandered into the kitchen and pulled down some of the cookbooks she’d bought from the local bookshop for their kitchen, flicking through the pages. Rufus barked at her and she picked him up and let him help choose. They settled on atagine.Exotic enough to show she’d made an effort, but actually pretty easy, judging by the instructions.
That decided, she started making coffee, and the fly buzzed inside her head again. The Laura fly. It made her skittish and she hated the feeling. If only she could swat it, crush it, wipe its entrails into a piece of paper towel, and then chuck it away. Maybe someone had done it for her. Partially amused with the idea, she turned on the TV, looking at the breakfast news for signs of an accident: a woman who’d put a foot in the road a second too soon and was pancaked, or who’d been knocked off the platform on the underground. It wasn’t likely. Laura generally didn’t take the tube. Something had to happen to her. It was so effortless, really, just a tiny thing could upset the equilibrium. Intrigued by the simplicity, she decided to Google it:How to cause an accidental death.
She opened up the laptop and started to type in the search engine, when her fingers froze over the keyboard. Jeez, that was close. Cherry knew that it was impossible to completely eradicate a browsing history. Thank God she’d only gotten to “cause.” It wasn’t like she was actually planning on doing anything. But just in case, she closed down the computer and decided to have a little fun with her imagination instead.
Lightning . . . bit difficult to control. Being stung by a bee . . . maybe Laura was the type to suffer from an anaphylactic reaction. Could you train bees somehow? Maybe you could put something on the skin that would attract them.
There was still a fairly high failure rate in this scheme, though. It would depend on the person being irritated enough to bat the insect away, and the bee actually releasing a sting.
Hmm . . . what about drowning? It would require a strong current—and no observers. Poisoning . . . ? Oh, why couldn’t Laura have been different? Why is she so possessive, so insistent that I’m not good enough for her beloved son?
By lunchtime, she was feeling a lot better. Of course, she wasn’t intending to go round to Laura’s house and put bleach in her tea, but it had been good therapy to speculate.
* * *
After lunch, Cherry went shopping for the ingredients for her makeup dinner and then started cooking. Thetaginefilled the flat with the scent of cinnamon, bay, and cumin, and the meringue roulade stood regally on the worktop. At half past six, she set the table; twenty minutes later, Daniel came home. She waited for him to come into the kitchen. Straightaway she saw that she’d done the right thing. The sight of the table, with its carefully laid-out wineglasses and cutlery, raised a smile and diffused the coolness between them.
“What’s this?” he said.
“My way of saying sorry. For being a miserable old bag yesterday.”
“You were a bit.”
“Hey!”
He put down his keys and wallet. “I was worried. Still am. Is everything okay?”
She smiled. “Of course, it is. Like I said, I was just having a bad day. Honestly. Have you seen the pudding?”
Daniel came over to investigate the long, white, sugary, twirled dessert oozing with cream and strawberry compote. He stuck his finger in and made a face of appreciation. “That isgood.”
Relieved to be off the subject of the night before, Cherry smiled. “You have a good day?”
“Saw an angioplasty.”
“Is that where they open up a blocked artery?”
“The patient visibly improved right there, in front of my eyes. Blood started flowing better around his body and his skin tone changed immediately.”
“Must be amazing to see.”
“It is.” He paused. “Mum rang me today. Left a message. First time in weeks.”
It was like a knife in her back, but she forced herself to stay casual. Took the couscous out of the packet and tipped it in a bowl.
“I feel bad. Don’t like falling out. She sounded upset.”
“What did she say?”
“Same as the others. That she was sorry. Wanted to make amends.”
Cherry nodded matter-of-factly.
“It’s difficult for me—you do see that?”
“I know.”
“I don’t like you two not getting on,” he said with a sigh. “My fiancée and my mum. You should be on shouting terms, at least.”
