“Okay,” Billy whispered back and sniggered at them both behaving like teenagers about to be caught by their mum for being up late.
Rosa listened to the toilet flush and then the squeaky board again, holding her breath. She gasped when a quiet knock came at the door instead of the expected click of the landing light switching off. Pulling the phone to her chest and then changing her mind and sliding it under the covers, she said, “Yes, Immy?”
The door opened and a sleepy Imogen poked her head around it. “Who are you talking to?”
“Just…I was watching something on my phone and I reacted to it. Sorry, I’ll keep it down.”
Imogen nodded, then yawned. “Okay. It’s fine, I can put my earbuds in,” she said, shrugging. “Night.”
“Night.”
When she was gone and the light clicked off outside, Rosa pulled the phone out and found Billy with her hand over her mouth, laughing.
“It’s not funny,” Rosa hissed. But it was, and she couldn’t stop the smile appearing on her own face. “Honestly, you’d thinkshewas the parent.”
“Well, get used to it—we’ve got a whole lot of sneaking around to fit in.”
Chapter forty-one
Monday was exactly as one would expect a first Monday back at work after a week off. Rosa was flat out all morning with errands and research for Roger.
“I need to know how long it would take to strangle someone. Does size make a difference?” he’d said, before heading back into his office and closing the door.
She’d made an enquiry with a local pathologist and medical expert, Dr Tristan Barnard, before she’d left for Austria. Rosa figured making that kind of request would be a lot easier than having to trawl through Google and research books. There was a reply in her inbox stating he’d be happy to help, but his only availability was Thursday—and only if somebody didn’t die. She wasn’t sure if that was humour or an actual warning, so she put it down to both and replied she would be there.
When her phone rang just after lunch, she didn’t expect it to be Imogen.
“Imogen? What’s wrong?” she said. Her jaw tightened and her fingers flexed against the desk, ready to propel herself out of her chair and into her car the moment Imogen said she was needed.
“Nothing, I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to Robbie’s after school. We’ve just been given a huge project and we want to get started on it.”
“What about dinner?”
“I’ll grab something, it’s fine. Georgia will probably cook for us.”
“We spoke about that, Immy.”
“I know, but you feed Robbie when she comes over—it’s no different,” Imogen said in that way only teenagers could—part annoyed, part you’re-the-best-mum-ever for caring.
“Okay, so I’ll pick you up at 6.40—”
“No need. Robbie wants to try her hand at guitar, so Pippa’s going to take us both and speak to Garth about lessons for Robbie. She’s already called him, and he’s happy to let Robbie and Pippa sit in on my lessons.”
“Right, so you just need picking up then?”
“I guess.” Someone said something in the background, and then Imogen said, “Robbie says she’ll get Pippa to drop me off.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you tonight.”
And then Imogen was gone. For a moment, Rosa dwelt on it—her daughter was growing up, no longer needing her the way she used to—and then she had another thought...
She pressed the buttons and dialled the number.
“Billy Fisk,” the voice said on the other end. “How can I help you?”
Rosa chuckled. “Are you free later…I mean, earlier than we planned?”
“If I wasn’t, I’d make myself free,” Billy answered. “What’s going on?”
