My Best Friend's Murder

by Polly Phillips

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she scoffs. ‘Rich knows the score. He may harbour dreams of being the next JK Rowling but money is what makes the world go round. And with his expensive tastes…’

  I don’t like to point out it’s Izzy that’s dripping in jewellery and designer labels.

  ‘JK Rowling? Is he writing a children’s book?’ I look back into the sitting room. Rich has abandoned his armchair and is now sprawled on the floor next to Tilly, singing along to the opening credits. ‘I bet he’d be really good at that.’

  Izzy shrugs. ‘He could be writing the next Fifty Shades of Grey for all I know.’

  ‘Gross. Aren’t you curious?’

  ‘Marginally. I better get this Christmas cake sorted out or we’ll be here at New Year. Do you want to give me a hand getting the plates out?’

  ‘I might give Ed a ring. His last few messages sound like he could use a breather.’

  He actually sounded surprisingly spritely in his last message but I need an excuse.

  ‘Give him my love.’ Izzy tosses the wadded-up kitchen roll into the top of their Brabantia bin. ‘And don’t be long. I told Tilly we couldn’t open any presents until we’d finished pudding. If we leave it much longer, she’s going to go nuclear.’

  I call Ed from the corridor but his phone goes straight to voicemail. His family has their Christmas meal in the evening so they’ve probably only just sat down. I pull up his last message – a picture of his whole family in matching red and green pajamas in front of the tree – and send him a jokey response suggesting it might be time to get dressed. I suggest we chat when he’s finished eating then I kill a few minutes staring at the canvases on Izzy and Rich’s walls. Izzy’s dad made his money in art before he got into magazines and he’s gifted Izzy some amazing pieces. I know I promised I wouldn’t be long but with that atmosphere I’m not rushing to go back. I could call Rob but I suspect he won’t thank me for interrupting his romantic Christmas and I don’t need the aggro. I’ll see him at the race tomorrow anyway. I’m toying with trying Ed one more time when the most terrible screech, like the sound of someone being killed, rips through the air. I thrust the phone into my pocket and practically run down the corridor, my heart pounding with every step. I fling open the door and see Tilly lying in the middle of the floor, kicking her legs in the air and sobbing at the top of her lungs. Rich is crouched next to her while Izzy slams plates in the kitchen. David’s flicking through the papers, Jenny’s eyes are glued to Tilly.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask Izzy, but she bangs another plate in response.

  ‘Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.’ Rich tries to put his arms around Tilly but she continues to wail. There are chunks of snot coming out of both nostrils and I can hear the phlegm rattling in her throat.

  ‘You know what’s wrong.’ Izzy smacks a bowl onto the counter. ‘She wants to open her presents and I’ve told her she has to wait until we’ve finished dessert.’

  Tilly increases her volume. Her sobs are so loud she’s almost choking.

  ‘There you are, Bec,’ Izzy says as if nothing’s going on. ‘How’s Ed’s Christmas going?’

  ‘I think he’s still eating. I’ll try later.’

  ‘Probably knee-deep in family politics.’ Rich has to raise his voice to be heard over Tilly’s shrieks. ‘Look, why don’t we get cracking on the Christmas cake and then we can do the presents. Mum, can I start you off with the first slice?’

  But Jenny’s gaze is fixed on Tilly.

  ‘Jenny?’ Izzy prompts.

  ‘Isn’t there some way to calm that child down? I’m worried she’ll do herself a mischief.’

  ‘Ignore her. She’ll tire herself out soon.’

  ‘If you say so, dear.’ Jenny purses her lips. ‘Having boys, I never had to deal with this sort of thing. And with Charlie and Laura’s being that bit older…’

  She looks at David and her voice trails off.

  ‘What about if we let her open one present before pudding?’ Rich suggests. ‘Would you like that, Tills?’

  Tilly stops mid-wail and starts nodding so hard it looks like her head might come off. ‘Yay! Daddy’s the best.’

  ‘I said she had to wait.’ Izzy’s hand tightens around the cake knife she’s holding. Tilly’s face crumples and she buries her face in Rich’s chest.

  ‘I’m sure one present couldn’t hurt, could it?’ Jenny intervenes. ‘What if it’s just a little one? Granny’s got you some ninny nonnies, Matilda. Would you like me to fetch one?’

  I can’t help smiling. ‘Ninny nonny’ is such a Jenny Waverly phrase.

  ‘I want Auntie Bec’s present.’ Tilly jumps to her feet. ‘The one in the box with the white ribbon.’

  ‘Mummy hasn’t said you can open anything yet.’ Izzy’s voice is tight.

  ‘I don’t mind.’ I don’t think my nerves can withstand another Tilly tantrum. ‘I mean, only if it’s okay with you.’

  ‘Please, Mummy,’ Tilly beseeches. ‘I’ve been good.’

  ‘Go on, Iz, you remember what it was like when you were little. Christmas Day seemed to go on forever.’ Rich gets up and goes to Izzy. He stands behind her and starts massaging her shoulders. ‘And she has been pretty good today.’

  ‘I always let you boys open your things on Christmas morning,’ Jenny gives an indulgent chuckle. ‘We weren’t nearly as strict as your generation.’

  ‘Fine.’ Izzy shrugs off Rich’s hands and picks up her phone to capture the moment. ‘I hope it’s a small one. I want the B-I-K-E to be the first big thing she opens.’

  The back of my throat knots.

  ‘Maybe you should start with Granny’s present, Tilly,’ I suggest. But she’s already dragged the American Girl box out from behind the tree. It’s nearly the same size as she is.

  ‘Honestly the packaging these days,’ Izzy huffs. ‘It’s such a waste.’

  But nobody’s listening. They’re too busy watching Tilly tear the paper like she’s trying to free something trapped inside.

  ‘There is a card, Tilly. Look at that first,’ Izzy prompts, but Tilly’s beyond hearing. She’s reached the layer with the American Girl logo on it.

  ‘An American Girl,’ she bellows. ‘Like Amelie’s. And it’s got a dog!’

  She starts clawing at the plastic casing surrounding the doll. ‘I love it. I love it.’

  ‘We need scissors or she’s going to lose a finger,’ Rich laughs.

  ‘I think it’s a hit,’ Jenny comments. ‘Clever of you to know exactly what she’d want.’

  I smile weakly.

  ‘Iz, where are the scissors?’ Rich asks.

  ‘In the top drawer of the island. Bec, can I have a quick word?’ Izzy raps out the words like an order.

  ‘Sure.’ I feel a bit wobbly when I stand up. I recognize her tone from my schoolgirl transgressions. I remind myself we’re not at school anymore.

  ‘Outside.’

  Before I can move, Tilly throws herself at me and wraps herself around my legs.

  ‘This is the best present in the whole world. I love you, Auntie Bec.’

  Izzy’s eyes narrow into slits.

  ‘Mummy, can I have the dog kennel for my birthday?’ Tilly is clinging to my legs, unknowingly sealing my fate. ‘And the grooming kit?’

  ‘I’m going to need my legs back, Tills,’ I croak.

  ‘Let’s get some scissors,’ Rich says. ‘That way we can get the rest of her stuff out.’

  ‘And the dog.’ Tilly releases me and rushes after Rich. Izzy yanks the doors open. She waits for me to walk through then steps out and shuts them hard behind her. I start shivering immediately. The temperature’s dropped again. But it’s still not as cold as the look on Izzy’s face.

  ‘What are you playing at, Bec? Those dolls cost a ridiculous amount of money.’

  ‘They’re not that much.’ I trace a circle in the frost on the patio with my foot.

  ‘They’re at least a hundred. And that’s before you get started on their ridiculou
s accessories. I know because I looked into getting one but I decided it was far too extravagant. From me. Her mother. What on earth are you doing spending that much money on her?’

  ‘I wanted to get her something good. She means a lot to me.’

  ‘She’s three. You could have got her something nice from the pound shop. If it glitters, it’s a hit. Or you could have bought her something nice to go with the bike we got her like I suggested. The bike that she’s now going to think is a piece of crap next to that stupid doll.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was trying to pay you back.’

  ‘If you want to pay us back, offer to babysit or something. Don’t throw money you haven’t got around. And leave Tilly out of it.’

  Something about the way she’s pacing tells me this isn’t about the money. ‘I was trying to do something nice.’

  ‘Bec, not even her godmother will spend that much on her. Laura probably won’t even remember with what’s going on.’

  I flinch. Izzy bowed to family tradition and asked her sister-in-law to be Tilly’s godmother. It still stings.

  ‘You can take it back if you want. I’ve got the receipt.’

  Izzy snorts and her breath comes out in a cloud in front of her – it reminds me of huddling over cigarettes together as schoolgirls. That seems like a long time ago now. ‘And give Tilly ammunition for a lifetime of therapy? You saw how she was with it. You know we can’t take it back.’

  ‘I’ll babysit for you guys then.’ I grasp at the suggestion. ‘Like you said. Anytime you want, call and I’ll come. Any time of the day or night. You don’t need to give me any notice. You can call me Mary Droppins.’

  I’m hoping to make Izzy laugh but she barely manages a smile. ‘You may live to regret that.’

  ‘I won’t. I want to make this up to you. I genuinely didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘Don’t people always use the word genuine when they’re being anything but?’

  ‘Oh, Iz, please don’t be like that. Look, I haven’t got her anything for her birthday yet. Shall I leave it and this could be a joint thing. Would that make it better?’

  ‘Just run any presents past me in the future. Or better yet, buy me a new carpet.’

  I gulp. I knew she was still annoyed. I glanced into the sitting room when I came in earlier and my red wine stain glared back at me, like a bloodstain.

  ‘You know Ed was serious about us replacing it.’

  ‘Well I’m glad he’s got time to be serious with all the fun he’s having.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ I’m confused by the tangent. And Izzy’s snide tone. Normally she’s Ed’s biggest fan.

  ‘Here.’ Izzy passes me her phone. The screen’s open on Ed’s Facebook page. I can’t remember the last time I was on Facebook. And Ed rarely posts anything. But today he’s been tagged in a flurry of photos. In the first he’s standing in the street outside a pub in the middle of a massive group of people. He’s got his arms around a blonde girl wearing a pair of reindeer ears and the skimpiest of strappy dresses, even though there’s snow on the ground. The date says last night, which is weird. He didn’t mention he was going out. In the next picture they’re all sitting round a table piled with drinks, the lights of a slot machine blurring in the background. In the final picture everybody’s disappeared except for two of his best mates, who are making kissy faces behind him. The blonde girl is sitting on his lap. Ed is wearing the reindeer ears.

  ‘Looking cosy, isn’t he?’ Izzy’s eyes are bright.

  ‘You know that’s his best friend Jonno’s wife, right?’ I thrust the phone back. ‘She’s like a sister to him.’

  ‘And there I was thinking three’s a crowd.’ Izzy laughs. But there’s an edge to it.

  ‘What are you trying to say, Iz?’

  ‘Nothing, hon.’ But she has the same look that Missy gets when she’s working out how to steal food from the table. Calculated.

  ‘If there’s something about Ed—’

  ‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare spoil the fairy tale.’

  For the first time, it occurs to me she might be jealous. Ed and I are at the beginning of forging our lives together. Making exciting plans. She and Rich are halfway through. My eyes fall on the house behind us; Rich’s doting parents framed in the expensive kitchen conversion. A flash of gold as Tilly runs back into the room, Rich’s broad shoulders moving into shot behind her. I’m being ridiculous.

  ‘Is it something else?’ I persist. ‘You’ve been acting funny with me all week. If I’ve done something to—’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, stop being so self-centred. Has it ever occurred to you that I might have other stuff going on? The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know. I’m going inside. I suggest, when you’ve come off whatever paranoia trip you’re on, you do the same.’

  I watch her strut down the garden. Like a child who hasn’t been paying attention in class, it dawns on me. Finally. Izzy enjoys making me feel bad. How has it taken me this long to notice the casual venom in all of her put-downs? My mind flashes back to the engagement party. The look of triumph on her face during Ed’s speech, the exaggerated pity when she told me about the roses. When did our relationship hollow out? I tell myself it must be a recent thing. I don’t want to face the thought that our entire friendship has been like this. I don’t know how long I stand there, taking it in, but by the time I make my way back to the house, I can’t stop my teeth chattering.

  ‘All right?’ Rich looks up as I pull the door shut behind me. He’s helping Tilly lay all the American Girl outfits on the carpet. Izzy’s sitting next to them, her long legs tucked beneath her. Behind them, Jenny’s sitting on the sofa, squinting at the rules of a board game that’s obviously just been unwrapped. The TV flickers in the background, sound on low. It’s the perfect family tableau. I walk over to the dining table to pick up my things.

  ‘I think I might make a move,’ I say. ‘Early start and all.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Jenny protests. ‘You haven’t had any cake.’

  ‘I was about to crack open another bottle of wine,’ Rich adds. ‘One of that Merlot you like.’

  ‘No, really.’ I untangle my handbag from where its strap is caught on the chair. ‘I should let you have some family time.’

  ‘You’re part of the family, silly girl,’ Jenny says. ‘Now come and sit down.’

  Izzy’s voice is noticeable in its absence.

  ‘Honestly, I better go.’ I click my fingers for Missy, who lumbers up. ‘It’s getting late.’

  I wait to see if Izzy will say anything, but she opens The Gruffalo and starts reading to Tilly instead.

  I slip Missy’s leash on. I have to work to keep my voice level. ‘Thank you all for having me. It’s been so nice for me to spend it with you.’

  ‘And us with you.’ Jenny levers herself off the sofa and clasps me to her. ‘I don’t like to think of you going off into the night alone.’

  ‘Are you all right to drive?’ Rich comes over. ‘You two weren’t necking cheeky shots in the garden, were you?’

  ‘Those days are gone.’ I give my best impression of a smile. ‘I’m fine. I should go.’

  ‘David’s just in the sitting room on the phone to Henry,’ Jenny says. ‘Will you wait and say goodbye?’

  ‘I’ll poke my head around on my way up.’ I won’t.

  ‘Well at least we’ll see you at the party on Saturday.’ Jenny pats me on the shoulder and goes back to her place on the sofa.

  ‘Tilly’s party,’ Rich prompts when I don’t say anything.

  I feel like two hands have reached into my chest and are slowly compressing my lungs.

  ‘I’m four,’ Tilly shouts out as if I didn’t know. ‘I’m having a bouncy castle. And a unicorn cake. And unicorns!’

  ‘Petting zoo.’ Rich winks at me, eyes twinkling. But I can’t look at him.

  ‘I didn’t think it would be your sort of thing.’ Izzy uncoils herself like a snake and stands up. ‘Screaming kids hyped on
sugar. You’ve had a lucky escape.’

  I nod, as though I haven’t been to all of Tilly’s birthday parties. First to arrive; last to leave as it happens. I don’t say it. But this feels like the end of something.

  ‘Got it,’ I manage and my voice sounds strangled, even to me.

  ‘Oh and Bec?’ There’s a fleeting moment when I think Izzy might extend the invitation after all, say something nice to wash this whole mess away. Instead, she wrinkles her nose the way she’s been doing to express distaste ever since we were teenagers. She used to practise it in the mirror. ‘I think you’d better take those chocolates you brought home with you. They must have oxidized or something because they’ve gone off. You haven’t had much luck with hostess gifts lately, have you?’

  Twelve

  Wednesday 26 December

  9.47 a.m.

  At first I think the pounding is in my head. Then the doorbell goes and I realize the noise is someone banging on the door, not the result of the bottle of wine I finished off as soon as I got home yesterday. I try to get up but my hip hits something hard. I fumble under the covers and pull out my phone. Did I call someone last night? Before I can check, the pounding starts again. I haul myself up and stumble down the stairs. Missy trails me to the door and I open it, praying I didn’t drunken dial anyone embarrassing.

  ‘Rough night?’ Rob’s rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He’s wearing exercise shorts and a windbreaker as if it’s the middle of summer and he’s got the kind of healthy glow that makes me feel like I’ve climbed out of an ashtray.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I blink. Thank God the sky’s covered in clouds the colour of dirty snow. I don’t think I could deal with sunlight today. I’m never drinking again.

  ‘And a merry Christmas to you, too! After I got your messages, I thought I’d better swing by and make sure you hadn’t topped yourself.’

  ‘Did we talk last night?’ I screw up my face.

  ‘No, but you had a lengthy conversation with my answer machine. Some might even call it a rant.’

  ‘Was it about Izzy?’ I’m almost afraid to ask.