‘You’re a brilliant journalist. He’d be a fool to sack you.’
I press my foot against the panel of the breakfast bar. ‘Has he said anything to you?’
‘No. Not really, just something about how lucky you are that Dominic Filcher didn’t press charges.’
‘He didn’t press charges because he knows how fucking guilty he is.’
‘Hmmm. Well, I can assure you he’s on my radar.’
‘Thanks, Rach.’
‘We’ll get him eventually. Don’t worry about that. God, you must be bored. I know what you’re like! At least you’re still getting paid. Youaregetting paid, aren’t you?’
‘Nope.’
‘Oh … shit.’
‘But it’s okay because, well, the strangest thing happened.’ I tell her all about the villa but I don’t reveal the visit from the police. It’s not that I don’t trust Rachel, but she is a journalist after all. The temptation to report on it would be too strong.
And if anybody is going to report on it, it will be me. When the time is right.
‘Wow,’ she says when I’ve finished. ‘Great news about the inheritance, but I’m sorry to hear about your artist friend. Dorothea Roe. Yes, we covered her death at the station back at the start of the year.’
I don’t know how I could have missed it. But then I had been in the middle of the Filcher case at the time.
‘She was pretty well known,’ I say, ‘at least she was in the eighties and nineties.’ I can hear Chris’s boomingvoice in the background shouting at someone, and I flinch. ‘I better go,’ she whispers. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ She ends the call before I’ve had the chance to reply.
When Josh gets home from work I tell him about the police visit and how they think it’s arson. I don’t mention that Dorothea might have been pushed down the stairs. He doesn’t need to know that detail for now, it will only make him worry.
Straight away his body language shifts and I can sense his anxiety. ‘Maybe we should stay here now we know someone torched Dorothea’s place?’
Disappointment floods through me. ‘Why would someone want to hurt us, though?’
He perches on the stool next to me and loosens his tie. He looks tired. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of investigating this, Ims. Leave it to the police.’
‘Of course not,’ I lie. ‘And if we move into the villa we can get security cameras, make sure everything is locked and secure.’ I can’t admit that one of the reasons I want to live in the villa is so that I can chase the truth more easily. ‘Come on, Josh, we were so excited by this. The villa is amazing. And it’s ours. It’s all ours!’ I want him to revert to the fun Josh of last night when he was spinning me around in excitement and making plans for his ugly TV. I watch his face, willing him to say yes.
And then he flashes me an indulgent smile. ‘You’re right. We’ll be fine. Whatever happened to Dorothea has nothing to do with us, and she was an old lady. Vulnerable. But I’ll call the security firm straight away, okay?’
‘Okay, great idea.’ I jump up and give him a quick kiss and ruffle his hair, which makes him laugh.
I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get my job back.
8
That Friday Josh takes the day off work and we move into Villa Oiseau. As we unload the car, Josh’s mum, Jackie, asks me when Alison is coming to visit. Jackie had jumped at the chance to help us move in (probably because she’d like a good nose around).
I squirm inwardly because I still haven’t told Alison. I know I can’t keep putting it off. It’s not that I’m scared of her reaction per se, it’s more that I don’t want her to be envious.
‘I … well …’
‘She still hasn’t told her,’ announces Josh with an eye-roll as he closes the car door with his foot, weighed down by the TV.
‘What?’ Jackie cries in surprise. She stops dead in the driveway with a cardboard box containing mugs in her arms, an overly exaggerated move, but then that’s Jackie. Nobody loves a drama more.
I pull a face. ‘I know. I know. I’ve been putting it off.’
‘Well, she’s not going to be happy when she hears you’ve inherited all this,’ she inclines her head towards the house, ‘and she gets diddly squat.’
