My Best Friend's Murder

  He pauses, a handful of Doritos halfway to his mouth. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I thought maybe if she had someone to talk to—’

  ‘She can talk to me.’

  ‘Of course she can, I’m not saying that. I was just… Did you know I saw someone after my mum died?’

  ‘Did you?’ Rich’s tone isn’t encouraging but I persist.

  ‘I did. My dad insisted on it.’ I want to tell him how unpacking my thoughts every week was the only way to make sense of what had happened, that sometimes talking to someone paid to listen is the only way to feel heard. But I can tell from his closed expression that he doesn’t get it. ‘What I’m trying to say is that it might help for her to see someone outside, someone she can say anything to. It definitely helped me.’

  Rich picks at a gap in the table where the wood has split. ‘Tilly’s different.’

  ‘How?’ I want to sound non-judgemental. Rich is doing an amazing job of parenting Tilly, but it’s a lot for one person. And there’s clearly something bubbling away inside her that needs dealing with. I’m surprised he can’t see it.

  ‘She’s not a teenager for one.’

  ‘No, I know that. I just think there are a lot of complex emotions surrounding the death of a parent, whatever age you are. Talking to someone about it—’

  ‘She’s got me. I don’t want to be cruel about your dad, Bec, but he was always a bit of a non-entity, wasn’t he? You’ve always said how detached he was, even before your mum died. I’m not like that. Tilly knows she can count on me.’

  I should defend my dad, tell Rich that it was the aftermath of my mum’s death – and his relationship with Judith – that pulled us apart, and that’s what I don’t want to happen to him and Tilly. But he doesn’t seem in the mood for listening.

  ‘I know she does,’ I say soothingly. ‘And I get what you’re saying and why you might have reservations. I’m just saying that—’

  ‘I don’t want her talking to a stranger and raking the whole thing up, all right.’ Rich bangs his fist against the table and makes me jump. I’ve never seen him like this. ‘I’ve seen this kind of shit on TV – the way psychologists are with kids. They’ll have her going over and over it, make her think she feels things she doesn’t. Some things are best left well alone. She lost her mum. Of course she’s sad and broken. She just needs to work through it. I’ll help her. She’s got me. She doesn’t need some bloody shrink.’

  I hop off my chair awkwardly. He couldn’t have made it any clearer that I’ve overstepped the mark. That after all I’ve done, it’s still them and me. ‘I should get going.’

  Rich is on his feet so quickly the gravel crunches beneath him. ‘No, don’t. I’m sorry I snapped. It’s been a shitty day with work and Tilly. But that’s no excuse. Please stay.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ I reach under the table for my handbag. I don’t want him to see that he’s upset me. He’s got enough to manage without my emotions. And I shouldn’t have pushed it. ‘I get you’ve got a lot on your mind.’

  ‘I shouldn’t take it out on you though – especially since you’re the one person in my corner.’

  ‘Has something happened?’ He hasn’t been himself since he came in this evening. He was even short with Tilly earlier, snapping at her when she asked for another bedtime story. I should have picked up on it. I was too focused on the pleasure of sitting down and relaxing together.

  ‘HR suggested I take compassionate leave.’ Rich sounds bitter. ‘It’s a joke. They just want me out of the building because I make people feel uncomfortable.’ He shakes his head. Under the bitterness, he sounds defeated. ‘I’ve only just gone back. They’ll be angling for voluntary redundancy before long. If they can get it in before the end of the tax year in April, all the better. It’s not like the department is doing well.’

  ‘Oh, Rich.’ He looks so lost. Without thinking I reach out and squeeze his arm. It’s the first time I’ve touched him since the night we kissed. I snatch my hand away. I shouldn’t be thinking about that moment right now.

  Rich has got his face screwed up. He hasn’t even noticed. He’s too busy fighting tears. ‘It’s fine. I couldn’t give a toss about work. It’s Tilly. I worry I’m doing it all wrong. The crying; the biting.’

  ‘But that’s perfectly normal. She’s sad. She just needs to work through it. You said so yourself.’

  ‘I say a lot of things.’ Rich gives a rueful smile. ‘Some of them I even mean. But I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing. What if I’m totally fucking it up?’

  ‘You’re not. Tilly’s brilliant. Because you’re a brilliant dad.’

  ‘But I don’t know how to do it on my own.’ I can see tears bubbling in the corners of his eyes. In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him cry.

  ‘You’re not on your own.’ I try to infuse my words with the strength I know he needs. There’s so much more I wish I could say.

  This time he’s the one that reaches for me. He puts his arms around me and I pull his head onto my shoulders. I can feel his tears seeping into the top of my dress. He’s hugging me so tightly I think he’s going to break my ribs. I’m just absorbing how it feels to be needed this way when he takes a shuddering breath and pulls his head back, breaking the connection. I tense. He’s going to tell me that as much as I want to help I’m not a parent and I have no idea what he’s going through. He’s right. I gather the corners of my mouth into a smile so that I can pretend the rejection doesn’t hurt. But Rich doesn’t say a word. He dips his head and kisses me instead.

  I feel like my knees might slide out from under me. I know this is a terrible idea. But I can’t help myself pushing closer to him, sweeping my hands down his back. I’ve waited so long. If it weren’t for the faint smell of Doritos on the breeze, this would be one of the most romantic moments of my life.

  ‘Bec.’ He stops and I know it’s all going to come crashing down.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. If I say it first at least I can retain my dignity. ‘I know, we shouldn’t be doing this.’

  ‘We shouldn’t.’ He sounds torn. ‘But I can’t help it.’

  I open my eyes.

  ‘I know it should feel wrong but it feels so right.’ His cheekbones flush. ‘Sorry, that sounded like the lyrics to some nineties song, didn’t it? Cheesy.’

  ‘It didn’t.’ I reach for him again, barely daring to hope. ‘It’s exactly how I feel, too.’

  He buries his hands in my hair and pulls me close. It’s as if we’re right back to that night by the rose bushes. And things had happened the way they were meant to. When I close my eyes, it’s like falling into a dream.

  Thirty-Two

  Friday 19 April

  7.20 p.m.

  The smell of burning fat stings my nostrils and hits the back of my throat as Rich puts the steaks on the skillet. They immediately start to spit.

  ‘Salt?’ he says, and I pass him the salt. ‘Pe—’ I hand him the pepper mill.

  ‘Am I that predictable?

  ‘Adorably so.’

  He puts the arm not holding the spatula around me and flips the steak. We’re starting to anticipate what the other needs and wants automatically. I already feel more in step with him than I ever did with Ed. It’s like we’ve been together for years, not months. The way we could have been if only… I duck out from under his arm. I wonder if Izzy pops into Rich’s head as often as she does mine.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Fine. I don’t want to get anything on my dress.’ I smooth down the material, inspecting myself for marks. The dress I’m wearing is so much more expensive than what I’d usually buy; I might still take it back to the shop after I’ve worn it.

  ‘Where is the leaving do again?’

  ‘Some private members’ club Sydney’s part of. I think it’s near Piccadilly.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’m not coming. I don’t think I’m up to public scrutiny quite yet.’

  ‘I get it.’ I don’t mention that I have
n’t told Rob about my relationship with Rich yet. I keep meaning to. I tell myself I haven’t had the opportunity. Really, I don’t want to jinx it and I’m nervous of Rob’s reaction. After that first night, I was terrified Rich would wake up and think it was a huge mistake. I laid there for about an hour watching him sleep. I had to get up and start doing something else in case he woke up and thought I was some kind of pervert. Even now, I find myself touching him whenever I go past. To prove it’s real.

  ‘Why don’t you come back here later?’

  I’m dying to say yes but I force myself not to jump in too quickly. ‘What about Missy? She’ll have been on her own since the dog-sitter dropped her off.’ I hesitate, not wanting to seem presumptuous. ‘I can’t leave her overnight.’

  ‘I’ll drive over and pick her up after dinner. It won’t take long.’

  ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘Only if you promise to do the washing up.’

  ‘Deal.’ And just like that we reach another milestone. We talk about the usual things during dinner; Tilly, how much he hates his job, who might be at the party tonight – but inside I’m glowing.

  7.40 p.m.

  I contemplate putting on more make-up after Rich goes to fetch Missy. He’s used to having someone who looks effortlessly camera-ready after all. But I don’t want to end up looking like a clown so I wander around looking for something to do instead. The house is spotless – he’s upped the amount of times their cleaner comes – but already signs of Izzy’s absence have crept in. No fresh flowers on the side or designer handbags hung on the back of the chairs. There are coloured pens scattered all over the dining table. I spot a lid on the floor and reunite it with its owner. Finally the house looks like a child lives here.

  Not that it’s having a positive effect on Tilly’s behaviour. She screamed blue murder when Rich put her to bed tonight – and came down twice – and there have been two more biting incidents, both of which the nursery handled badly. I’ve grown to dread pick-up. Oak Tree has a school attached to it, which I know Tilly’s name is down for. I’m not sure she should go. After the way he took my head off about counselling, I haven’t voiced this to Rich.

  I’ve caved and started putting on another coat of lipstick when Missy comes clattering down the stairs. She greets me like a long-lost friend, throwing herself at my legs and head-butting me in the knees. I feel a pang of guilt. I’ve been neglecting her.

  ‘Keys.’ Rich slides them along the breakfast bar. ‘Your place is looking a bit sorry for itself, isn’t it?’

  I cap the lipstick with a click. ‘I haven’t been there much.’

  ‘I wasn’t having a go. It got me thinking.’

  ‘About what?’ My heart rate speeds up.

  Missy chooses this moment to squat on the floor and let out a torrent of urine. ‘Missy.’ I yank her towards the bi-fold doors. ‘I am so sorry. Where’s your kitchen roll? I am so embarrassed.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Rich is totally unruffled. ‘These floors have seen far worse. We potty-trained Tilly in this kitchen, remember?’

  I do remember. Tilly did not take to potty training naturally and for months Izzy and Rich used to find the evidence of this hidden behind sofas and curtains. But it’s not my memory to share.

  ‘Yeah – well.’ I change the subject. ‘That’s no excuse for Missy. Anyway, what were you going to say?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You said you were thinking?’

  ‘I can’t remember now. My brain is in power-down mode.’

  ‘Oh.’ I try not to sound too disappointed. It’s typical. Every time I think we’re moving forward, Izzy pops up in some guise or other. Usually I end up feeling guilty for resenting that, but tonight I can’t quite manage it. I think it must be the prospect of seeing Rob and Sydney; it’s putting me on edge.

  ‘Don’t you need to get a move on? Robbo will be gutted if you miss it.’

  ‘I’m not sure he’d care that much.’ I try to prolong the moment.

  ‘Play nice. You’ve only got one brother. The fact that he actually wants you around means you’re one up on me.’ He tries to sound flippant but I know him too well.

  ‘Still nothing from Charlie or Henry?’

  ‘Apparently Laura is finding it difficult.’ Rich makes a face. ‘She was very fond of Izzy. And you know what Henry’s like. If it’s not right in front of his face he doesn’t give a shit.’

  ‘So what? They should—’

  ‘Forget about it.’ Rich sounds bone tired. ‘You should get going.’

  ‘Maybe I should stay behind. Especially if Missy’s playing up.’

  ‘Bec, I can handle an incontinent basset hound.’ Rich puts on the ‘firm dad’ voice he uses with Tilly. It makes me smile. ‘Now go. Just hurry home.’

  I leave reluctantly and hug his use of the word ‘home’ to me all the way to the party.

  8.30 p.m.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

  ‘You sound like John McEnroe.’ Since Rob’s been dating Sydney, I’ve noticed American terminology creeping into his speech. I keep picking him up on it and he doesn’t like it.

  ‘Sod McEnroe.’ Rob looks incredulous, which is hypocritical given his own dating rap sheet. ‘Are you telling me you’ve shacked up with Rich Waverly when Izzy’s not even cold? That’s a bit sick.’

  ‘We haven’t shacked up.’ I glance round. We’re standing by the bar, under a heater shaped like a hair drier on the club’s roof terrace and I’ve already seen two BAFTA-winners and a minor rapper walk by on their way inside. I wouldn’t have told him if I thought he was going to make such a scene. ‘We’ve just started seeing each other.’

  ‘You mean shagging. If you were seeing him, he’d be here.’

  ‘He couldn’t face the crowd. And after your reaction I can’t say I blame him.’

  ‘Guilty conscience, more like.’

  ‘I thought you’d be happy for me,’ I snap. ‘You never liked Ed.’

  ‘Happy you’ve ditched Mr Insurance and found someone new, yes. Happy that person happens to be the husband of your dead best friend on the rebound? Not so much.’

  ‘Rich isn’t on the rebound.’ I grab a canapé from a passing waiter and chomp it down.

  ‘No, he’s high on life. His wife just died and he’s already banging the babysitter.’

  ‘It’s not like that.’ Rob’s always been able to zero in on my weaknesses and exploit them. And he’s never liked anyone I’ve dated. The joys of having a sibling. I try to brazen it out. ‘This has been years in the making, you must see that.’

  ‘Then why did he marry Izzy?’

  The question is like a slap in the face but Sydney glides over before I have to find a response. She’s wearing a midi-length cream dress that accentuates her bump and manages to make the rest of her look tiny. From behind you’d barely know she was pregnant. Her calves, flashing in the roof garden’s mood lighting, are more slender than mine. She’s even rocking a pair of fierce white Louboutin shoes with wings at the heel and a feathered trim. She looks like an avenging angel. I shrink back. Rob and I might have made up but I haven’t spoken to her since that angry phone call.

  To my surprise, she throws her arms around me. ‘Bec, you’re here at last. I thought you weren’t coming.’ Before I can even absorb that she’s not angry anymore, she turns to Rob. ‘Did you ask her yet?’

  ‘Ask me what?’ I turn to look at Rob but he’s busy grabbing two orange juices from a tray on the bar.

  ‘Drink this, babe.’ Rob ignores me. ‘You’ve been running around all night. You’ve got to keep your energy up.’

  ‘My feet are killing me,’ she concedes.

  ‘If you will wear those ridiculous shoes…’ He bumps his hip against hers.

  ‘Hey, no fair. Don’t come between me and my Loobies. You know you’ll lose.’ She bats his arm and I study the mirrored bar. Seeing someone flirting with your sibling is never a comfortable experience.

  ‘
So did you ask her?’ There’s a touch of impatience, as if she’s not used to repeating herself.

  ‘Not yet.’ Rob looks sullen.

  ‘I’ll do it then.’ Sydney turns to me and gives me her widest smile, the one she used when she won the Oscars. It’s amazing how quickly she can change her expression. And how special her smile can make you feel. ‘So, Bec…’

  ‘Yes.’ I try to concentrate but her enthusiasm is slightly overwhelming. And Rob’s question is still gnawing away at me.

  ‘Now that my press officer has vacated her post—’

  ‘Wait? Tasha left?’

  Sydney puts her hands on her hips. ‘Honestly, don’t you guys talk at all? Yes, Tasha left. She made some calls I wasn’t happy with.’ She looks at Rob like she expects him to finish her sentence. He doesn’t say anything.

  ‘Okay, I’ll say it. She was the one who gave your magazine the pregnancy story. Now she’s gone, we’re a person down and we wondered if you might like to—’

  ‘Tasha was the leak?’ I croak. It feels like someone’s squeezing my windpipe. It’s hard to breathe. Izzy didn’t betray me.

  ‘She won’t want to do it,’ Rob’s saying. His voice is just background noise.

  ‘I’m sorry about what happened.’ Sydney looks genuinely upset. ‘It all got out of control. I’ve been looking for a way to make it up to you—’

  ‘So you want me to come and work for you?’ I struggle to focus.

  ‘I thought the piece you wrote was awesome.’ She grimaces. ‘Before the changes were made. Now I know you had nothing to do with them, it seemed to make sense. And I know Robbie would love to have you close. Especially when the baby arrives.’

  Rob snorts. I can tell he’s still annoyed about the Rich thing. He hasn’t apologised for blaming me for everything either. Much as he’d hate me to say it, he’s similar to Izzy that way.

  Sydney ignores him. ‘So what do you say?’