Spud looked up, ‘What cream? You didn’t give me any.’
‘I did, you big div. I told you it was in the downstairs loo on the shelf and to make sure you used it. Did you have those things stuck in your ears again? Jeez, Spud, no wonder you’re on a different planet. Honest, mate, you look a right pillock.’
Ken puffed his exasperation. ‘Well, your mum’s going to go bleedin’ daft when she sees you like that and I’ll cop for it, again. Bloody hell, Spud, I can’t leave you for a minute.’
At this Jed started laughing again and when Spud stood and turned to face the house Frankie knew why and she felt awful.
Not only were his stick arms and legs from the knee down bright pink, he must have turned his head to the side when he nodded off because half of his face was also burnt, the other side lily-white. From the looks of him it was going to sting. A lot.
Spud’s day crashed and really did burn from there, and from her seat at the opposite end of the table Frankie had a good view of the lobster pink half of his face. It was hard not to giggle when he turned and you caught sight of his two-tone skin. And yes, as Ken said, when his mother saw him she probably would go bleedin’ mad.
Frankie wished she’d checked on the sleeping man-child but she’d been wrapped up in her preparations and zoned out. Hopefully with three more days to go the vibrant pink might fade and turn brown, but failing that, Frankie envisaged a trip to thepharmacieto buy a bottle of fake tan. Spud’s mum sounded a bit scary.
Looking along the table, past assorted bottles of wine, a rather gooey slice of meringue and some crumbs of cheesecake and a plate of cheeses she was yet to sample, Frankie smiled, taking in the scene. The garden was lit by solar lamps, proving Jed right because the Amazon man with a van was becoming a regular visitor. They cast a soft glow on the freshly mown grass, courtesy of Spud who had finally found a job he liked, chugging round on Luc’s tractor mower. Next year she would plant wildflowers around the borders and out the back, dig a vegetable patch. The puppies were inside, sleeping on the knees of equally sleepy children who were watching a film, while outside around the table her friends and fami– friends and boyfriend chatted. Henri had given up trying to poach Jed from Ken who said his arm could be twisted, for the right price. Maxence was showing Jed photos of Oscar and Belle’s ancestors and Spud was doing what he did best, playing a game on his phone.
The only people missing were her mum and dad, and Jed’s mum. Frankie had already asked Ken if he would bring Jenny over for a visit, to which he replied that wild horses wouldn’t keep her away once he got back and showed her the photos.
Was it possible? Could it work? Would they come back and maybe meet her parents? Or was she getting carried away, ahead of herself, counting the chickens she was thinking of buying? Were they merely daydreams or was she within touching distance of true happiness?
Taking a sip of her wine, Frankie focused on Jed seated beside her, because really, the answer lay with him.
Maxence finally put away his phone and went to get another bottle of wine at which point Jed turned away and rested his eyes on hers, taking her hand in his. It was one moment, a look from him to her, and three words whispered in her ear, falling on her skin, inscribing themselves on her heart. When Jed said, ‘I love you,’ and gently kissed her cheek, and she responded, same words, same kiss, Frankie knew the answer to her questions. It was possible, it could work, true happiness was within her reach, sitting right beside her.
24
Darren’s brain was on overtime even though his body had knocked off hours before. He was trying hard not to make it obvious to Chelsea that he was preoccupied and made all the right sounds during parts of her story that required a response.
They were in bed at his place and she’d been telling him all about Dennis’s new flat that he’d promised not to mess up; then the ward sister who drove her mad – something to do with being a bone-idle biddy who didn’t pull her weight; and how Lara – her flatmate with the broken bones – was starting to drive her mad. Chelsea looked after poorly people all day so going home to someone who also needed care was beginning to grate. ‘I mean, I do my best, take her shopping and stuff, and she sleeps a lot due to her pain meds but I feel like it never ends, what with Granddad and Lara. To be fair, half the time she doesn’t even know if I’m there or not because she’s holed up in her room. Then again she must get so bored so I feel obliged to spend time with her. I was so relieved when she said her sister was coming to stay for a few days, so now I can have a proper break and focus all my attention on you.’
‘Mmm, that’s nice.’ Darren had caught something about a sister. The rest was background noise. He felt bad about not concentrating but he couldn’t help it. The murder case was playing on his mind. They’d still not caught Scarlet Jones’ killer and, much to his DI’s annoyance, Barnes hadn’t found out who’d torched Dennis’s house. It definitely wasn’t the football kids who’d been at their aunt’s house for a sleepover at the time of the fire. Their mother provided video evidence of their cousin’s birthday party, along with a few choice words about Dennis Mills.
Then there was Bea Butler. The poor woman was in a bad way, currently in a coma with a broken neck and fractured skull but her family, bless the poor sods, were just happy she was still alive. That in itself was a small miracle. The husband had been keeping a vigil at his wife’s bedside for over a week and her prognosis remained grim.
In the meantime, their home had been thoroughly examined and nothing untoward found. Nothing was missing; there was no sign of forced entry and the neighbours on either side didn’t have anything of use to add. One set was at work, the other lone occupant in bed after a night shift, so for the time being, until Bea regained consciousness they were treating it as a terrible accident. Still, no matter how clear-cut it appeared, something rankled and Darren couldn’t put his finger on it.
He’d also been on pins in case someone found out about him and Chelsea because, even though she wasn’t a suspect and their seeing each other not a crime, the age gap might be frowned upon in the higher ranks. Darren swung from not giving a toss what people thought to cringing at being labelled a cradle-snatcher. There was quite a few years between them, yet despite that they clicked, made each other laugh. She was clever, kind, and very hot and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Better still, from the vibes and messages he was getting, she kind of liked him too.
They’d discussed the age thing in a jokey way on the day he took her home from the hospital. On the spur of the moment he had asked her if she wanted to get something to eat. Things led on from there, to her bed in her shared flat. They came to the conclusion it was nobody’s business but their own. Dennis would have to be told, but Chelsea really couldn’t be bothered with her granddad’s ranting. She didn’t want him to spoil things so for the time being he was well and truly out of the loop.
Darren hadn’t actually realised the room had fallen silent until Chelsea gave him a nudge and when he turned to look, she was wearing a frown, and not much else.
‘Oi, earth to Darren.’ Chelsea flicked his earlobe and finally got his attention. ‘Were you even listening to one word I said just now?’
Darren did his best affronted face. ‘Of course I was. About the lazy sister…’
Chelsea tutted. ‘Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I can see you’re miles away. You were the same last night, more interested in your jalfrezi than me. I hope it’s nothing I’ve done because I’d rather you say if it is.’
Darren jumped in quickly to allay her worries. ‘No, no way! I can’t get this flipping murder out of my head, that’s all. And then when the victim’s friend had an accident… I don’t know, something isn’t sitting right with me.’
‘Okay, then talk it through… I’m a good listener amongst many other things.’ Chelsea winked and snuggled closer. ‘What isn’t sitting right?’
Darren sighed, guilty at bringing work home yet rather relieved to have a willing confidante to help sort his head out. ‘I’m probably overthinking it, letting instinct and suspicion cloud my judgement. And you haven’t helped either.’
At this Chelsea pushed herself onto her elbow, shocked and worried. ‘Why, what have I done?’
Darren laughed and pulled her close. ‘Nothing bad. It’s just that ever since I realised who you were, and met Dennis the bloody Menace again, I can’t shake off what happened all those years ago, to your mum and you and now I feel like I have to get to the bottom of what’s going on.’
‘What do you mean? Is it bringing up bad memories? But it shouldn’t because they got the murderer and locked him up. Justice was served even though I do think he should have had longer andno wayshould he be out now. That does upset me, as you know.’
