‘Oh.’
‘We’ve decided to take a break.’
‘A break from what?’
Tess looked at her.
‘Don’t be fucking stupid. You know what that means.’
‘Is this because of me?’ Vicky started to say.
‘No! Not everything is about you!’ Tess exploded, seeming to surge with rage again. ‘You are not the centre of the world! Whilst you were off living the life you wanted to live and doing whatever the hell you like, I’ve been here, trying to make money and keep hold of everything…’ She dabbed the tissue on her chin. ‘I’m going to put some antiseptic on this. God knows what’s under your fingernails. I’m going to bed. There are blankets and pillows in the hall cupboard.’
Vicky watched her sister climb the stairs, and felt so alone in the empty front room.
31
When Erika arrived home, George the cat was waiting for her in the hallway, and purred and turned through her legs when she came through the front door. The house felt arctic. There was a small postcard on the floor in the hallway with Argos Delivery printed on one side. Typed on the other side was: To change your delivery call this number. Someone, presumably the delivery driver, had underlined the phone number in blue biro and added because you weren’t in!!! She noted the three exclamation marks.
‘Look at that, George, my first piece of post, from an angry delivery driver,’ said Erika, leaning down and showing him the postcard. George sniffed at it, and then looked up at her with his emerald green eyes and a loud miaow. ‘Are you agreeing with me?’
He miaowed again.
‘Or is that, feed me?’
Miaow.
‘I must learn how to speak cat. I wonder if Rosetta Stone do a cassette tape?’ said Erika, walking through to the kitchen and flicking on the light. ‘Oh bloody hell,’ she said, seeing the mess of bare floorboards and boxes.
On her way back from dropping off Vicky, Erika had stopped at the petrol station and bought some food and two bags of wood and firelighters. The thought of another night on the floorboards was filling her with dread. She placed these in the corner of the kitchen. She opened another tin of her precious Májka paté for George, made some toast, and heated up some baked beans in the microwave. She watched as George gobbled it down, and she hoped that he would stay and sleep on the end of her duvet. She looked up at the clock. It was long past midnight and she was eating her supper. Erika loved her job, but she longed to have at least one foot in the real world. She knew that having a man to come home to was now most likely never going to happen, but she would settle for a cosy bed and an ordered house. She longed to have a bath and warmth and carpets.
Erika ate and then searched through her boxes until she found a stack of blankets. She was glad when George came with her. She lit a fire in the tiny grate of the back bedroom, and piled the blankets on top of the duvet. George walked onto the freshly made bed and turned in circles before settling down. He lay contentedly watching her.
Erika looked around the tiny warm room and realised how lucky she was. And then she thought of Vicky. The girl was burdened with secrets. And she thought back to the encounter with Charles Wakefield and the Assistant Commissioner, and how they didn’t have a proper ID on Charles Wakefield’s CCTV image.
Erika checked the time. It was now very late. She took a deep breath and dialled Marsh’s mobile number, but it went straight to voicemail. She thought back to him jabbing his finger in the air in Melanie’s office, demanding that he be updated on anything, however small. Erika dialled his landline number and pressed the ‘call’ button.
‘Hello?’ answered a woman’s voice, thick with sleep. It was Marcie, Marsh’s wife.
‘Sorry to call so late, it’s Erika,’ she said.
There was a pause.
‘Bloody hell, Erika. It’s not late, it’s early in the morning.’
‘Yes, but it’s urgent. Is Paul there?’
‘He’s asleep!’
‘Can you wake him up?’
Marcie sighed heavily, muttered more expletives, and dropped the receiver with a clatter. There was a sound of bedsprings creaking and Erika listened as a door opened, and it sounded like Marcie went through to the hall and knocked on a door. Were Marsh and Marcie sleeping in different beds? A door opened.
‘What is it?’ said Marsh, sounding groggy.
‘It’s Erika on the landline,’ said Marcie.
Erika felt uncomfortable overhearing the secrets of Marsh’s dysfunctional marriage. A moment later, Marsh picked up the phone.