Chapter Twenty-Six
Haze
We were an hour into drinks-nibbles-party-planning, and I was doing great.
I had not offended anyone. I’d smiled in the right places, and had even succeeded in not rolling my eyes at Araminta’s worry that the party did not have enough gluten-free dairy-free options.
There were five of us here, our little ones all the leading stars of the play.
I did feel a little smug. Little nods that my daughter was as spectacular as I thought she was always helped morale.
Frederica, resplendent in a flowered trouser suit, leaned toward me and started firing questions at me about my house.
She kept going on about whether the garden was north-facing, and did it get morning sun, as those were the best gardens.
I told her I didn’t know, as I didn’t own a compass, which she frowned at.
The two other women were called Devrika and Sasha, and they were huddled together mainlining prosecco as one talked about how much she hated her husband. I was realizing this wasn’t so much about party planning as it was group therapy.
Women needed one another in a way that men didn’t.
They needed to share everything they were going through, to ask each other for advice on all the little things right up to the really big ones.
I was still relatively new to the sisterhood, but I was a fully signed-up member now.
After decades of being out on the fringes, I’d grown to realize how important female friendship was.
I just didn’t want any more of it. Jenny was enough for me.
“You’re an artist,” Frederica announced.
“Yes.”
“I like your stuff. It’s very angry. How is your husband’s business going? It’s still quite new, isn’t it?”
“He’s doing great.”
She seemed to know a lot about us. If we were getting to know each other, I could have free rein on questions too.
“Why do you put your life online?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t I? Curating images of how I’ll always be remembered? I want the highlights reel at my funeral to make people jealous.”
Was this a friendship interview? Us circling each other, working out if we met each other’s criteria?
I mean, clearly she didn’t meet mine. I wasn’t about to choose to hang out with someone who used the hashtag “#handbagsaremypassion.” I liked pretty things too, but they were decorations, not a calling.
I sneaked a peek at my phone. Two missed calls from Fox. He was home with Bibi and Reggie. I tried to ignore my creeping heart rate. Had The Chameleon come for him? Or did he just want to know where the iPad was?
I walked away from the table, mobile clasped in hand, and rang him back.
He answered on the second ring. He was talking fast. “You need to come meet me. Right now. Problem. Big problem.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll send you a pin.”
“Are Bibi and Reggie with you?”
“Jenny’s at work. Frank is babysitting them.”
“Why did you have to go out?”
“I’ll explain when you’re here.”
“What is going—”
“Not on the phone, honey.”
He only ever used “honey” when something bad was going down and he was overdoing the “I’m a totally normal husband” part.
I hung up and looked at my phone. I had three missed calls from Jenny earlier in the evening, and then one text, saying:
Ignore my calls, babe. Enjoy your evening!!
She only ever used “babe” when something bad was going down and she was overdoing the “I’m a totally normal bestie” part.
And a second text.
Don’t worry, Fox is sorting it!
Clearly, Fox had not sorted whatever it was.
I went back to the table.
Sasha was in mid-flow. “…and they never listen and just never get it right.”
Frederica nodded. “Doesn’t matter how many times you tell them.”
I chimed in. “I know, toddlers are the worst.”
Devrika looked up at me. “We’re talking about our husbands.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. I’m afraid I need to go. The baby isn’t well.”
“And your husband can’t handle it?” huffed Sasha.
“Exactly.”
“So typical. Why is it always down to us? Why can’t we ever just enjoy one evening out?” Devrika downed her glass of prosecco. “I bet you’d never have to ring asking him to come home if a kid was ill. Men are useless.”
Sasha snorted. “God, do you remember that time Andy couldn’t even remember what uniform the kids had to wear, so he rang me in the middle of my big presentation?”
“Dick,” said Devrika.
“Such a dick.” Araminta nodded. “And what about when Sean couldn’t find the ballet stuff, so just sent her in a tracksuit? And when he—”
I turned to Frederica, as it seemed Araminta’s rant wasn’t going to end anytime soon. “Very sorry to leave early.”
“Let’s plan a spa day! We’re all members at River Court. It’s essential. I have so much upper back tension that needs working out.”
Fluffy robes and face masks with Frederica. God no. I needed to scare her off. “I only make plans involving alcohol.”
Frederica didn’t flinch. “Perfect. I was going to say we should do dinner one night. With our husbands. We can really get to know each other.”
“Fun!” That was all I could think to say.
I got into the car and clicked on Fox’s pin.
He was twenty minutes away, out by the recycling plant.
What the hell was he doing there? There was no point calling him again.
Whatever was going down was something that he didn’t want evidence of over the phone.
That meant anything to do with our little sideline.
I had to keep stopping myself from slamming my foot down on the accelerator.
The roads got quieter and quieter until I turned in to what looked like a dead end.
I was meters away from Fox’s pin. I reduced my speed to a crawl.
Just up ahead, I saw the back of his car in front of a large oak tree.
He was standing alongside it. I parked up behind him and got out.
He held out his hands. “I know you’re going to find this hard to believe. But it was an accident.”
I looked around. It was so dark, I could barely make out anything except a few trees.
“You hit a deer? What? Just tell me!”
Fox sighed and popped open the boot. Inside was a body. A male body. He was half-wrapped-up in the black tarpaulin we usually kept folded up along with the spare tire.
I got closer and pulled back the tarpaulin. The crinkle as it unwrapped. A bad present.
I looked down at the dead man.
Danny.
Somehow, in the middle of nowhere, Fox had killed my ex.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“Can we start by acknowledging how great it is that even though I killed someone, and knew it would look bad, I didn’t try and cover it up? I rang you straightaway and told you to come here. Open and honest communication about wrongdoings is—”
“Do not therapy-speak me!”
Fox went silent. He was choosing now to remind me of my previous indiscretion? It’d been nearly two years! You think someone is over a betrayal, only for them to fling it back at you first chance they get.
I tried to think about this calmly. My ex was dead, in my husband’s boot.
“How exactly did this happen?”
“Jenny rang me. She had a lead on The Chameleon. She told me to come here and check it out.”
“And what? Danny just ran in front of your car? It was suicide?”
“I was driving, and I spotted a man behind that tree. He was wearing a cap. But he was holding a gun. I ducked, accelerated, and hit him.”
I looked more closely at Danny’s body.
“You mean hit him and then ran over him?”
“I didn’t stop, as I didn’t know I’d hit him. I was ducked down, remember. Not wanting to get shot. I just slammed my foot down, heard the clunk, and realized…”
“This is ridiculous.” I put my hands to my head. “What the fuck? Danny is dead. Actually dead.”
“Why are you so upset?” Fox chewed on his bottom lip. “I thought you said you didn’t care about him.”
You have to be kidding me. He was still jealous. My wounded Fox was so off-kilter we were arguing over my squashed ex, and he was worrying I still had feelings for the guy?
“I’m not upset about him being dead! I’m upset that you killed him behind my back!”
“No! I did not!” Fox took a step toward me. “We’ve learned from all that, remember? I would never do that to you. We’re a team. We do it together or not at all. This was not planned.”
“You’re saying he was waiting for you out here, ready to kill you, and it was self-defense?”
Fox nodded vigorously. “Yes.”
“So, where’s the gun?”