‘…I mean, she wasn’t a massive fan of me taking the lead on it at first, but I asked her politely, stated my case, and feel likeI may have stood up for myself a little bit, maybe. Then she just told me to go for it.’
‘That’s amazing, my love, just what we like to hear,’ I said, somewhat muffled, as my mouth was stuffed with bread. Gareth, though remarkably good at his job, had always been a little bit of a people pleaser when it came to his colleagues. It was always nice to hear stories about him sticking up for himself a little more, especially against people like Vivian. Just a shame it wasn’t Isla – or his friend Cecilia, or Cis, as she preferred to be called. I was not Cecilia’s biggest fan, nor was she mine. There had always been something scheming about her that I’d never quite trusted. Like there was always something ticking away in her brain.
‘What case is it, though? Anything interesting?’ I said, switching my tone to a voice-level whisper.
‘Oh, just a missing persons case, nothing particularly exciting,’ Gareth said as his doppelganger returned with a bottle of wine.
A cold shiver gently tingled up my spine. A missing person case? Could it be O’Neill? No, surely not. If Gareth was investigating the disappearance of our next-door neighbour, he would definitely have mentioned it to me. This was the man who could never resist telling me what my birthday gift was each year. I took another deep breath, letting the thought slip from my mind as quickly as it had entered.
‘And you? How was your day today? Anything thrilling happen at social services?’ Gareth asked.
‘Not really. But I did get those super-strong bin bags you like that don’t leak on my lunch break, though. Found a Morrisons that sells them, so small victories, right?’
‘Oh, now that is exciting. We can toast to that,’ Gareth said, as the waiter finished off pouring our glasses. ‘Did you speak to Angus today?’
‘No, not today. I think he’s having one of his bad mental health days, so he let me know he was all right, but nothing more than that.’
I obviously couldn’t delve into the lengthy diatribes Angus had been subjecting me to every time I’d called over the past few days. All he’d done was rant to me about how foolish it had been for me to kill O’Neill, and state that – despite having scarcely left his flat for the past decade or so – he wouldn’t help me clean up the mess. Because of course, he was just so helpful last time.
‘Ah, that makes sense. He’s still taking his meds though, right?’
‘To the best of my knowledge, he is. I think he has a lifelong prescription for paroxetine.’ I grabbed my glass and took a sip of wine, realising I really needed to send Angus another message before the end of the day to ask him if he was still taking his meds.
‘And anything from Beryl today?’
‘I mean, today she was talking about how she can already feel her boobs getting bigger.’
‘What?’ Gareth exclaimed, his mouth agape, aghast.
‘No, no, not neighbour Beryl, colleague Beryl – the one who’s just got pregnant.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Gareth said, shaking his head and giving a quick, relieved wheeze. He composed himself and then grinned at me, a huge full-tooth smile that I’d always loved, but which he never liked to show in photos, for some reason. ‘I hadsomany questions.’
‘God, I’m going to have to say goodbye to so many bras when we get there,’ I moaned, taking another swig of wine, realising that I had unconsciously drunk my entire glass.
‘Don’t say the Lord’s name in vain,’ Gareth said with a smirk. ‘But what about neighbour Beryl? Did you speak to her today? She still looking into our window every chance she gets?’
It was true; Beryl was an exceptionally nosy neighbour. Gareth was convinced she had been spying on us. With her house being opposite us and situated higher on the street’s incline, he swore he’d seen her peering down into our kitchen on more than one occasion. The fact that she could lip-read due to her hearing loss didn’t ease Gareth’s paranoia either.
‘Not to my knowledge,’ I said. ‘I’m still walking that dog though, which is a joy. Though Beryl says that she’s feeling better now, so hopefully it won’t be too much more of me having to walk Mussolini reincarnate.’
I could see Gareth thinking about something as he scrunched his face up, wondering if he should say it.
‘What about grumpy, creepy neighbour? Have you seen him recently?’
I wasn’t quite sure why he had hesitated. He had probably clocked on to my revulsion towards O’Neill. No matter how much I’d tried to hide and suppress it, unfortunately, it seemed like my husband knew me too well.
‘No, not since I helped him with his shopping. When was it? Saturday, I think, but haven’t seen him since. Saw the light was on in his bathroom today.’
Gareth seemed satisfied by that answer, nodding as he reached across the table to grab another piece of the rapidly dwindling pile of bread.
‘I do feel we have joined a nice little community here, which is good. You feeling a bit better about the house now? A bit more at home?’ Gareth asked, taking a redundant glance at the menu that he had definitely already studied online.
‘I do. It’s just…moving is just strange, isn’t it? You go from knowing about every nook and cranny in your old place to suddenly being somewhere completely new. Like, who’s in our old apartment now? Is it a younger, sexier couple than us, whoget up to wild stuff and have loads of parties and have shower sex?’
‘Have you been thinking about this a lot, Fran?’ Gareth asked with a comforting chuckle, reaching his hand across the table to clench mine.
‘No, I haven’t, because shower sex is actually really hard and wet and cramped and it takes a lot of awkward positioning, but I do think it’s a bit bad that we haven’t done it in our new place yet.’
