Keep Your Friends Close

by Janelle Harris

  I begin to walk home, disappointed not to have anything new for my scrapbook, but relieved that Rose still doesn’t have my name or number, although now I have to go to bloody Pilates again so she doesn’t come looking for me. Because I know she’s the type of person who would come and find me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  DARCY

  Monday 1 July 2019

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ Luke asks, sitting on the edge of our bed.

  I’m tucked under the covers in my favourite pastel purple nightdress. It’s silk and loose fitting and just about one of my only pre-pregnancy items of clothing that still fits me.

  ‘Would you like some breakfast?’ he asks. ‘Something light might help settle your stomach.’

  I shake my head and my brain feels like it might split in two. I wonder how long Luke has been sitting there, with his hand on my knee waiting for me to wake up. He’s dressed for work. I can feel how torn he is between leaving me and heading to check on things at the factory. Time is passing in a blur. I don’t remember getting home from the vet’s and I’ve only got out of bed a handful of times since to use the bathroom, or to be sick. I haven’t even been downstairs to check on Jinx once. And the guilt makes me feel even sicker than I do already.

  ‘Jinx,’ I croak, my throat dry and painful.

  ‘He’s fine, honey,’ Luke says, squeezing my knee gently. ‘He’s asleep downstairs. It’s you I’m worried about.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, trying to get comfortable. I’m lying too flat and the baby is putting pressure on my back.

  Luke shakes his head. ‘What are you talking about? You have nothing to apologise for. You can’t help being sick. Any more than Jinx can.’

  ‘He was poisoned, Luke. Poisoned. Who would do something like that?’

  Luke takes a deep breath, as if my question exhausts him. ‘You heard the vet, honey. It was weedkiller. You know what the neighbours around here are like. The Robinsons want their garden perfect.’

  I try to sit up but I’m dizzy and the whole room seems to be spinning. I close my eyes and count backwards from five. Steadier, I try again.

  ‘I think someone did this,’ I say.

  I hear Luke groan before he stands up.

  ‘I’m serious,’ I say, sternly. ‘I told you someone was in the house. I think they’ve come back and hurt Jinx. What if they hurt you or me next?’

  ‘Darcy, this is ridiculous. You’re not well. You’re not thinking straight.’ I can hear the frustration in Luke’s voice.

  ‘Don’t you think I know how crazy this sounds? But can’t you see how strange everything is all of a sudden? I’m scared, Luke.’

  ‘Look.’ Luke exhales slowly. ‘We’ve had a stressful few weeks. And now, with Buckley gone and the future of Darcy’s Dishes up in the air, I think it’s messing with your head. It’s understandable. I’m worried too.’

  ‘Really?’ I ask, surprised to hear Luke finally admit that everything isn’t, or might not be, okay.

  ‘Of course,’ he says, ‘but at the end of the day it’s just money.’ He bends and places his hand on the duvet, covering my round bump. ‘But once you and the baby are okay that’s all that really matters.’

  ‘Um,’ I say, and I don’t have the energy to feign positivity.

  Luke sits beside me and takes my hand. ‘Buckley had all the money in the world but he died a lonely man. I don’t ever want to be in his shoes.’

  ‘But Andrew Buckley didn’t just die,’ I say. ‘He was murdered. Someone killed him, Luke. Every time I think about it I feel sick.’

  ‘Darcy please,’ Luke says. ‘You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking like this.’ He lowers his voice and adds, ‘You’ll drive me crazy.’

  ‘It can’t all be coincidence. You said it yourself, Buckley had more money than he knew what to do with. Someone clearly wants it. Or doesn’t want us to have it. You have to at least see that, don’t you?’

  ‘I see that you’re exhausted, heavily pregnant and stressed out . . .’ Luke repeats the same tired mantra.

  You’re pregnant, Darcy. You’re tired, Darcy. That’s been my husband’s answer to everything for the last seven and a half months.

  ‘Can you hear how patronising you’re being?’ I ask, rolling my eyes.

  Luke begins to pace the floor, his hands on his head. ‘And can you hear how insane you sound?’

  I swallow hard and try not to let my husband see how much what he just said has hurt me. Luke is my best friend. He has been for twenty-one years. He’s the person I confide in about everything. About anything. It’s breaking my heart that confiding in him about this is so hard. He actually pities me. I can see it in his eyes.

  ‘You were fine until we had trouble with the credit card,’ Luke reminds me. ‘You got completely stressed out. Money trouble is weighing heavily on you. Especially with the baby coming. And I get it. I do. I’m not expecting you not to worry. But I think you need to realise that it’s pressure making you paranoid. That’s all. Pressure.’

  I take a deep breath. Just thinking about money makes my chest feel tight. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about the future. Luke and I both know that Darcy’s Dishes barely has enough funds to survive for another six months. I think about giving Gillian a call. I’m desperate for an update about Buckley & Co’s commitment. But Gillian has lost her father in the most horrific of ways. No matter how much I crave financial reassurance, I have to respect that.

  The microwave dings downstairs and startles me.

  Luke smiles. ‘I made you some scrambled eggs,’ he says. ‘I wanted to make sure you’ve eaten before I go.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘I have to check on things at work,’ Luke says.

  I don’t have time to reply before he adds, ‘Toast too, yeah? I’ll make you some before I go, if you’re up for eating.’

  I throw back the duvet and try to slide my legs out over the edge of the bed, but they’re heavy and like jelly all at the same time.

  ‘Hey. Hey. What are you doing?’ Luke asks, placing his hand on my shoulder and steadying me.

  ‘Wait for me. I’ll grab a quick shower and I’ll be ready in ten minutes.’

  Luke shakes his head. ‘Ready for work? Oh c’mon, Darcy. You can barely move. Why won’t you just take it easy?’

  ‘I don’t want to be here on my own,’ I admit, hating myself for the juvenile statement.

  ‘Oh, honey.’ Luke smiles, tucking me back in as if I really am a child. ‘I’ll try to get home early. How does that sound?’

  There’s a sudden sharp clatter downstairs and I yelp and bolt upright in bed with energy that wasn’t there a moment ago.

  ‘What was that?’ Luke says, walking towards our bedroom door. ‘Bloody dog. I better let him out for a wee.’

  ‘I think it came from the kitchen,’ I say.

  ‘A chair probably. I hope he hasn’t broken something.’

  My heart is racing. Jinx isn’t strong enough to knock one of the heavy kitchen chairs over, and if he did he’d get a fright and be yelping and scratching at the door to come up to us.

  ‘Luke,’ I say, calling him as his fingers curl around the door handle. I catch my breath and whisper. ‘What if someone is downstairs?’

  Luke throws his hands in the air and says, ‘Oh, for God’s sake. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,’ before he walks out of our bedroom.

  I drift in and out of restless sleep as I listen to Luke pottering about in the kitchen. I can hear voices. Mumbles, really. As if whoever’s there is making a conscious effort to keep their voice down.

  I’m more groggy than ever when Luke returns with a plate of piping-hot scrambled eggs and some toast. Luke places the plate on the bedside table and leans over me to kiss my forehead.

  ‘Eat up. It’s the only way you’re going to feel better,’ he says, fetching his suit jacket from the wardrobe.

  ‘Who were you talking to?’ I ask, pulling myself to sit up, a
nd I try to ignore how the smell of eggs makes me feel.

  Luke shakes his head and his brow wrinkles as if I’ve asked a stupid question.

  ‘Just now. Who were you talking to? I could hear voices.’

  ‘Jinx, of course.’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘Someone was talking back to you.’

  I expect Luke to tell me I was dreaming or something, but he doesn’t.

  ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘I was on the phone. There’s a botched order. I’m dreading the paperwork already.’

  ‘But I could hear someone. I mean, I could hear voices here. In the house.’

  ‘Eh, my phone was on loudspeaker,’ Luke says, sliding his arms into his suit jacket, instantly making himself look more dapper. ‘I needed my hands free to make your breakfast. Now please do eat it, honey. For your own sake, and for the baby.’

  ‘Of course,’ I say, nodding. ‘Loudspeaker.’

  Luke smiles. ‘Right. I have to go. I’m so late already I can’t leave Mildred on her own much longer sorting this mess out.’

  I smile back and watch as Luke hurries out of the door. I lean to the side and push the plate of stinking eggs away from me. I wait until I hear the front door close before I dial Mildred’s number and I wait even longer, until I hear Luke’s car pull out of the drive, before I hit call.

  It rings for a long time and I’m just about to hang up when a groggy voice says, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mildred. Hi.’

  ‘Darcy?’ Mildred sounds surprised to hear me. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘I was just about to ask you the same question.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  Mildred sounds sleepy so I have to ask, ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘Yes, sorry,’ Mildred says. ‘It’s the middle of the night here.’

  ‘Here?’ I echo.

  ‘In Los Angeles.’

  ‘Oh God, yes, of course. I’m so sorry. I forgot you’re on holiday for the next week. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Darcy, is everything okay? You don’t sound like yourself. Is something wrong at work?’

  ‘Everything is fine, honestly. I’m just silly. Let’s blame baby brain, eh?’

  Mildred laughs.

  ‘Anyway, go back to sleep,’ I say. ‘And I’m so sorry again. Please enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

  I hang up with shaking fingers as I wonder why the hell Luke is lying to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  GILLIAN

  Tuesday 2 July 2019

  It’s cooler today than it has been for a while and I’m not sure if it’s me or the weather. I pop back into the flat to find a light jacket before I leave. The kitchen is a mess. There are more scrapbooks than ever scattered around the countertops. Some of them look as if they’re years old, with yellowing covers and dog-eared pages. There’s a bottle of glue that’s fallen on its side. There’s no lid, and half the glue has dripped all over the countertop and on to the floor, creating a sticky mess. I try to ignore it as I search for my jacket. I spot it draped over the back of a chair and I slide my arms in before I take one last look around at the clutter. Collaging seems to be less of a hobby and more of an obsession. It’s beyond frustrating. This place needs a good tidy. I’m going to have to put my foot down.

  I leave the flat, and try not to think about the mess.

  ‘Morning.’ A voice overhead grabs my attention as I close the door behind me.

  ‘Good morning,’ I call back without needing to look up to know that it’s my gym bunny neighbour out on her balcony the way, I’ve noticed, she is every morning, eating breakfast.

  ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ Kimberly says.

  I nod, but I wrap my arms around myself as a gentle summer breeze flutters by. I’m about to wave and be on my way when she asks, ‘Did you have a nice weekend?’

  I pause and I realise I have no memory of the weekend. It’s as if it never happened. I bought some vodka on my way home from Darcy’s on Friday night. I drank it neat, with a takeaway pizza. I’ve no doubt I repeated the process on Saturday and Sunday and I spent most of yesterday in bed sick as a dog with a horrible hangover.

  ‘I tried knocking on your door yesterday,’ she says, ‘but there was no answer.’

  I tilt my head back so I can make eye contact with her. ‘Sorry I missed you.’

  ‘I was wondering if you’d like to come around this evening for a chat to get to know one another better.’ I don’t have time to answer before she explains further. ‘Eddie is away for the week and I hate being home alone. I’d really love the company if you’re not busy.’

  I make a face.

  ‘I know it’s midweek, but I’d love an excuse to open a bottle of wine. And what better way than toasting new neighbours.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ I say. And I mean it. I could use something to occupy my evening.

  ‘Super.’ She smiles. ‘How does 8 p.m. sound?’

  ‘Perfect,’ I say, walking away. ‘It sounds perfect.’

  I’m at Darcy’s front door in less than five minutes on foot. I take a moment that I’ve never allowed myself before to notice the sparkling white stone that glistens in Darcy’s granite doorstep. The stone is quite obviously bespoke. Steps this fancy weren’t around in the nineteenth century when this house was built. I can only imagine how much something like this must have cost, and I wonder if they used company money. Darcy and Luke definitely enjoy treating themselves to the finer things in life. Neither of them have changed since school in that regard.

  I try to push the memories of twenty years ago out of my head and ring the bell. The dog starts barking straight away and I’m surprised to discover he’s still alive. Nothing else happens, so I ring the bell again. It takes a while, but finally I see Darcy’s silhouette coming towards the door through the colourful glass pane. The dog reaches the door first and bares his teeth.

  Darcy reluctantly opens the door and the dog bounds outside yapping at my ankles.

  ‘Jinx, stop that,’ Darcy commands, clicking her fingers.

  The dog ignores her and I take a step back, worried he’s going to nip me.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says, ‘he’s usually so friendly. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.’

  I take another step back, stepping out of the porch.

  ‘Jinx, come here right now,’ Darcy hisses through clenched teeth.

  Finally, the dog obeys and goes back inside to stand beside his master, but his tail is pointed straight as he glares at me.

  Darcy seems surprised to see me, but she hides it well while scolding her pet. ‘Silly boy. Silly, silly Jinx.’ She turns her attention towards me. ‘Are you all right? I hope he didn’t scare you.’

  I force a smile and say, ‘It’s fine. I’m just glad he’s okay.’

  Darcy bends awkwardly and gathers Jinx into her arms. She looks as if her back might snap in half as she cuddles him. ‘Me too. I got such a fright. I love this furry little guy.’ She drags her fingers through the short fur on the top of his head and he closes his eyes, clearly enjoying it and forgetting his disapproval of my arrival. ‘The vet thinks it was weedkiller,’ she explains. ‘People really need to be more careful.’

  My eyes widen. ‘Weedkiller. Wow. I never knew it could be so dangerous.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  Darcy bends a fraction and opens her arms to let Jinx jump down. No doubt a move they’ve perfected in recent weeks.

  In Darcy’s surprise to see me, she forgets to ask me inside and it’s only when an uncomfortable silence descends that she stands a little straighter and chirps, ‘Come in. Come in.’

  I step inside and she closes the door behind me, but everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Darcy’s movements are slow and jerky as if she has to concentrate hard on even the simplest task. She’s also alarmingly thin. Her belly is round and full but her arms and legs are like sticks that could easily snap, and her cheekbones look as if they might protrude through the layer of greyish skin covering them. Darcy has always
been slim. I used to envy her long legs and high cheekbones. But there is nothing to envy now. She looks frail. Like a dying woman fifty years her senior.

  ‘Can I get you some tea? Or coffee.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Water perhaps,’ she adds, unsure and definitely uncomfortable.

  ‘Is Luke here?’ I ask, casually.

  ‘No. He’s gone to the funeral—’ Darcy cuts herself off mid breath and I wonder what she’s thinking.

  Maybe it’s the first time she’s thought of the funeral and realised that’s where I should be. Or maybe she’s been thinking about it since she opened the door and has been trying to avoid putting her foot in it.

  Either way, I ignore the mention and carry on. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘It was you I was hoping to chat to anyway.’

  ‘Oh,’ Darcy says. ‘Okay. Are you sure I can’t get you something? I’m making a cup of tea for myself.’

  I don’t want to drink anything. But Darcy is so on edge I can tell she needs something to do with her hands.

  ‘You know what, tea does sound good. Thank you.’

  Darcy seems lighter instantly and she leads the way to the kitchen, and I follow.

  She doesn’t invite me to sit, but I do anyway. And when she notices she winces, and I can tell she prides herself on being an impeccable host and failing is embarrassing her. I try to lighten the mood with small talk as she walks around her stunning kitchen with its high-gloss, cream cupboards and ebony, granite worktops. Every inch of Darcy’s world oozes elegance and taste. And, of course, money.

  ‘Tea,’ she says, after a while, when she places two cups on the table in front of me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, waiting for her to sit down, and déjà vu washes over me. ‘I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.’

  ‘Perhaps a little,’ Darcy says, sitting.

  She sips tea that I know must be too hot, but she doesn’t so much as flinch. She dabs the corner of her lips with a tissue she pulls from her sleeve. ‘It’s just a little surprising, considering the day it is.’

  ‘The day it is, is the exact reason I’ve come.’