‘Daniel, I missed your call. I still want to meet. You said you’d still be up . . . Please can you come over? Maybe you’re in the shower or something . . . Let me know. I’ll wait up, so don’t worry about it being late.’
She didn’t want him to go over. She needed more time, didn’t need anything to accelerate the already fast-burning touchpaper. She pressed ‘3’ to delete and then got rid of the text announcing the voicemail as well. Next she looked at the call history. Laura’s call was listed at the top, and in a couple of swipes, she’d deleted it. She scrolled down through the remaining calls from what she supposed were work colleagues, Will, his dad, and then she saw it. It wasn’t listed as a name but as the number in full. The only one she knew off by heart, as she’d lived there. Her mother’s house. Her mum and Daniel had had a conversation at eight thirty-seven the night before. Quickly she thought back. It was exactly the time she’d gone out to get the wine. Her heart was pounding. So he knew everything, or at least enough. That’s why he could hardly look her in the eye when she’d come back and why he’d been distracted and distant since. It was also why he was going to see Laura tonight.
Except he wasn’t, she reminded herself quickly. She’d removed the message. Cherry often found that her brain was at its optimum under pressure; she got a physical buzz from solving problems against a ticking clock, and tonight was no different. In fact, tonight was inspired, genius, and most of all felt like exactly the right thing to do.
She would go and see Laura.
Cherry felt an odd sense of fatalism, as if by recognizing what to do, she’d started a sequence of events. She didn’t know what they were yet, but somehow knew they would hold her answer.
But she had to prepare herself, and quickly. The shower had gone off and he’d be dressed in a minute. She scrabbled around the kitchen, and grabbing two slices of bread, slathered them with mayo and put in some sliced beef and rocket. Poured a fresh glass of water and put them both on the worktop, just as he came in.
‘Expect you’re hungry. Thought this would be quick, especially if you end up going to see your mum.’
He looked touched by her thoughtfulness. ‘Thanks. Has my phone rung?’
She shook her head. Daniel checked the kitchen clock and she followed his gaze. It was ten to eleven.
‘I said I’d give her half an hour. I’ll eat this, and then if she hasn’t called, she’s probably crashed.’
Cherry watched attentively as he wolfed the sandwich. After he finished, hands clasped, he stretched his arms up in the air, expelling the tiredness of the day. Then he picked up his phone again and Cherry held her breath, wondering if he was going to call Laura. But he put it back down.
‘Might crash myself,’ he said. ‘I’m on a six a.m. shift tomorrow.’
‘Don’t blame you,’ said Cherry, putting his plate in the dishwasher.
‘Sorry. I haven’t been much company tonight, have I?’ He yawned, a massive tidal wave of exhaustion that took him by surprise.
‘Go to bed,’ said Cherry sternly. ‘I’ll join you in a minute. Just going to put this on,’ and she started to fill the dishwasher with salt. She deliberately took her time, and when she went to the bedroom, he was, to her satisfaction, fast asleep. Cherry congratulated herself on her sandwich. She’d added half a zopiclone, left over from the days just after Daniel had ‘died’, when she thought she’d lost everything and had had trouble sleeping. A half would be effective enough to put him into a deep slumber but not so powerful he’d have any telltale signs in the morning. She’d crushed it into powder and the peppery rocket and garlic mayonnaise had helped disguise the faint taste. There was only one thing left to do. She took Daniel’s phone, which he’d left charging on the worktop, sent a text and then deleted it from his sent box: ‘Sorry. Was in the shower. Coming over now.’
‘I thought it was time we resolved this . . . difference of opinion,’ started Cherry tactfully.
Laura was just staring at her, looking a little moronic, if she was honest. It made Cherry feel good, honourable even that she was prepared to offer an olive branch.
‘Instead of you continually trying to push me out and me . . . retaliating’ – she saw Laura stiffen at this subtle acknowledgement of her schemes – ‘why don’t we just quit before it gets out of hand?’
What was wrong with her? Why was she still staring as if she’d had a lobotomy or something? She clearly had to spell it out. She moved forward and saw Laura flinch.
‘Stop being so jumpy. I just fancy a sit-down, that’s all.’ She led Laura into her own living room and relaxed onto the sofa. Laura was still standing, framed in the doorway.
‘I suppose it’s too much to ask for a drink? Oh, never mind. Let me just say what I came here to say. I’ve tried really hard, Laura, to fit in, to be a good person, an ideal girlfriend for Daniel . . .’ Remembering something, she looked around the room and laughed ruefully. ‘I was so nervous that day I came for supper, the first time we met, and all you did was make me feel like an outsider. It was you and Daniel, no room for anyone else. But I’m not on the outside, not anymore, and you just can’t seem to get that. But I’m prepared to forget about everything. We should be friends. I want us to be friends.’
Eventually Laura spoke.
‘Are you mad?’
Cherry looked around the room, as if she thought Laura were addressing someone else. ‘No. I really don’t know what I’ve done to make you dislike me so much.’
Incredulous, Laura opened her mouth to speak, but Cherry knew what she was going to say and it irritated her. ‘Oh, I know, the puppy, the letter to Marianne, although he decided to divorce you himself,’ she added spitefully. ‘But those things were after you’d been such a bitch to me. That lie . . . it was . . . unforgivable.’
Laura flinched.
‘Can’t argue with it, can you? I was just giving you a little taste of your own medicine.’ Cherry got up and pushed past her into the kitchen. The room was shadowy, lit only by the under-cupboard lights.
‘Do I have to make myself a drink?’ she sighed, getting a bottle of juice out of the fridge.
Laura eyed her warily but didn’t speak. She saw her phone where she’d left it and wondered if she could get to it and dial 999 without being noticed. But then surely Cherry would hear it being answered and she was very unsure about her state of mind. She knew she should probably be trying to talk to her, reason with her or something, but she was nervous, didn’t know what she was dealing with. She slowly opened a cupboard, took out a glass and slid it across the worktop. Cherry looked at it in pleasant surprise.