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I concentrate on shoving my keys into my handbag so I don’t have to look at Alice when I reply. ‘The date didn’t go too well.’
I sneak a peek up at Alice. She’s folded her arms across her chest and an eyebrow is quirked at me. ‘What do you mean? What happened?’
This is why I was so keen to avoid Alice tonight. She’s affronted every time a date goes awry, as though I’ve insulted her by not falling head over heels with the guy. I look down at the doormat beneath my feet. This really is like getting collared sneaking into Great Aunt Dorothy’s house and I’m lost for words as she awaits an explanation.
‘Emily…?’
I sneak another peek at her. Poor Alice. There is such hope in her eyes. It’s going to be such a shame to squish it.
‘I ended it.’
‘You ended it?’ Alice’s voice comes out all high and squeaky, and she clamps a hand to her mouth, her eyes swivelling towards the closed living room door. When she speaks again, the whisper is back. ‘What happened?’ Her eyebrow quirks again, as though adding ‘this time’to the end of her question.
‘He wanted me to meet his parents.’ I wait for a reaction, but Alice doesn’t bat an eyelid. ‘His parents, Alice. We’ve been on three dates. That isn’t normal!’
Alice opens her mouth to argue, but closes it again with a sigh. ‘I suppose you’re right. It is a bit soon.’
‘A bit soon?’ I give a hoot, which earns me a death glare from Alice, who thrusts a thumb at the living room. I dutifully lower my voice even further. ‘Three dates, Alice. I’ve known the man for approximately six hours. You’ve been with Kevin for a year and…’ I yelp as Alice grabs me by the arm, her grip so tight it pinches.
‘Will you shush?’ Her eyes are back on the living room door again.
‘Sorry.’ I try to extricate myself from Alice’s grasp, but the woman’s fingers are like a vice. ‘But you know what I mean. Also, you’re really hurting me.’
‘What?’ Alice looks down, suddenly realising I’m trying to squirm from her grip. ‘Oh. Sorry.’ She releases my arm and I start to inch towards the stairs.
‘Anyway, I’m exhausted. I’m going to go up to bed.’
‘No, you are not.’ Alice’s fingers are clutching my arm again before I can make any attempt to shuffle off upstairs. ‘You are not leaving me with that woman. She’s been here for twenty minutes and I already feel like jumping off a very tall building. She’s mocked my career choice, my living arrangements, my so-called weight gain.’ Alice looks down at her tiny frame. ‘Pur-lease. Bitch knows I look smokin’ hot.’ She tightens her grip on my arm, and her eyebrows press down low. ‘Any minute now we’re going to start on my love life. I need you, Emily.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier if you just told them about Kevin?’
Despite their one-year relationship, Alice hasn’t told her family about her boyfriend. They’ve never met him or even heard his name. As far as they’re aware, Alice is still very much single (and doesn’t Francelia like to goad Alice about that).
‘Are you kidding me?’ Alice jabs her free hand at the living room door. ‘That woman in there would make our relationship hell until she’d crushed it if she knew about me and Kevin. You’ve met her. She’s evil. There’s not a chance in hell she’d accept Kevin.’
‘Not even if she knew you were totally in lurve with him?’ I make a silly kissy face, but it doesn’t make Alice smile. In fact, it makes her face and shoulders droop.
‘Especially if she knew I was totally in love with him. She’s done it before and she’ll do it again. She doesn’t want me to be happy.’
‘You have to tell them the truth one day,’ I point out.
‘I know.’ Alice nods, though with little enthusiasm. ‘And I will. Just not now when Carolyn’s about to get married. The wedding is the only thing that’s put Francelia in a good mood – I don’t want to ruin it. Now isn’t a good time.’
‘Will there ever be a good time?’ I ask, but Alice doesn’t get the chance to answer as the living room door swings open. I almost recoil in horror as evil stepmother Francelia appears in the doorway. She’s actually beautiful (on the outside) – though this is more down to her highly paid surgeon than Mother Nature. Francelia is forty-seven (and not thirty-five as she tells everyone) but she doesn’t have a single crease on her face or grey hair in her glossy, chin-length bob.
‘What’s going on out here?’ she asks, eyes narrowed (no crow’s feet) and one hand planted on a slender hip. ‘And why have I been left to fend for myself? This is not how we treat guests, Alice. You are a very rude young lady at times. Your father would be shocked at your behaviour.’
‘Papa Monroe not here today then?’ I pop my head past Francelia into what I know will be an empty living room. Alice’s father hasn’t been to the house in the ten years I’ve lived here, and I think I’d die of shock if he rocked up now.
‘Mr Monroe is very busy this evening.’ Francelia has an icy glare when she’s irritated. It’s actually quite scary. It makes me wonder what would happen if I chanted ‘Francelia Monroe’ three times in front of a mirror.
‘He is a very busy man,’ I say, which is clear, as he never has time for his daughter. Alice flashes me a pleading look, silently begging me to leave it. Alice is a strong and feisty woman, but she wilts whenever she’s in Francelia’s presence.
‘He is indeed.’ The corners of Francelia’s mouth pull upwards, hinting at a smile. ‘Now, are we going to stand out here all evening?’
‘No. Of course not.’ Alice finally releases my arm and follows Francelia back into the living room. She glances over her shoulder, eyes wide and pleading. It’s been a very trying evening and I want nothing more than to drag myself up the stairs and crawl into bed, but I can’t do that to Alice. Taking a fortifying breath, I step into the living room and prepare for battle.
Chapter Two (#ulink_6e468570-1ce0-5b2c-90fd-3bc85a54eacc)
The next half an hour with Francelia is as arduous as the date I’ve just endured (my date did not take well to being dumped mid-chew and made a bit of a scene), but I’ve been nothing but polite as I settle myself down with a cup of tea, biting my tongue as Francelia throws out jibe after jibe about Alice, the house and even Carrot, our gorgeous little ginger cat.
‘Seriously, girls, you should open a window.’ Francelia gurns as Carrot pads past her again. I like to think he does this on purpose to push the evil one’s buttons. ‘You can always tell immediately which houses have cats living in them. It’s the smell.’
‘The house doesn’t smell,’ Alice says, but she gives the air a quick sniff anyway.
‘Believe me, it does. What is it those adverts say?’ Francelia lifts her cup of tea to her lips (it’s part of the super-expensive china set Alice bought for use whenever her stepmother descended). ‘Ah, yes. You’ve gone nose blind. Just because you can’t smell it, doesn’t mean the rest of us are as fortunate.’ She jabs a foot at Carrot as he winds his way past again and I would quite like to send any hint of politeness on a one-way trip out of the window and smack her in the gob. Luckily, Carrot skitters out of the way and Alice places a calming hand on my thigh to anchor me in place.
‘Maybe I should put Carrot out in the garden for now.’ Alice hops up off the sofa and scoops the little kitty up into her arms. ‘Emily, why don’t you pop the kettle on again?’
Because it would be an invitation for the witch to stay longer?
‘Sure.’ I follow Alice into the kitchen, filling the kettle while she opens the door for Carrot and encourages him into the garden. The poor bugger doesn’t want to go outside, but he’s in danger of sporting the pointy toe of a Kurt Geiger court shoe up his arse if he remains indoors.
‘That woman.’ Alice leans against the closed back door and growls. ‘Why did my father have to marry such a cow?’
‘You could just tell her to bog off. Or you could let me do it.’ I like this idea. I’d enjoy it.
‘No.’ Alice gives a sad shake of her head. ‘My father would never forgive me. He’d never speak to me again.’
He doesn’t anyway, I want to point out, but I know this will only hurt my friend, and her family do enough of that themselves without me wading in to throw a few verbal punches her way. The only decent member of the Monroe family – aside from Alice, obviously – is Carolyn, but she’s just as cowed as her sister when it comes to Francelia.
‘She’ll leave soon,’ I say in my best soothing voice. ‘The gates of hell will close behind her and we can get on with our smelly little lives.’
There’s a flicker of a smile on Alice’s face before she frowns. ‘We haven’t gone nose blind, have we? What if she’s right and the house does smell?’
‘The day Francelia is right about anything is the day the Devil pops his ice skates on for a twirl around his frosty kingdom.’ I pull Alice into a hug, trying to squeeze away the damage Francelia has done – and not just this evening. ‘The woman is a muppet, and we don’t listen to muppets, do we?’
‘Not even Miss Piggy?’
‘Okay, we can listen to Miss Piggy. That girl is sassy and confident and she doesn’t take any crap. She’s a role model. Francelia Monroe is not.’
‘I quite like Kermit too. And Gonzo.’
‘Animal was always my favourite.’
Alice and I grin at each other. Francelia can spew her poison but we refuse to be infected. At least from the safety of the kitchen. I kiss Alice’s forehead and release her from the hug.
‘You got this. Don’t let her win.’
Alice shakes her head and throws her shoulders back. ‘Never.’
‘Good girl. Now, am I allowed to spit in her tea?’
Alice practically rugby-tackles me as I head for the kettle and pulls me out of the way. ‘Absolutely not. We won’t stoop to her evil ways.’
We make the (spit-free) tea and take the tray through to the living room, where Francelia is studying our bookcase, running her nasty, ruby-red talons along the spines of my historical romance novels.
‘You honestly read this trash? I thought you were an actual historian. Doesn’t it rot your brain?’
‘It hasn’t so far,’ I say, my voice cheery. I will not let her win. I will not let her rile me.
‘I suppose we all have our guilty pleasures.’ Francelia wipes her hands down the thighs of her navy trousers as she sits, as though she’s rubbing away something unsavoury after touching my books. ‘Some of us read silly little novels and some of us covet expensive, irreplaceable jewellery…’ She shoots a glance at Alice, but her stepdaughter is rearranging the scatter cushions on the sofa and doesn’t notice.
‘I don’t feel guilty about my book choices in the slightest.’ I set the tea tray down on the coffee table and refill Francelia’s cup. She arches an eyebrow. She thinks I should feel guilty. I think she should take a long run off a short pier.
‘So. Francelia.’ Alice is starting to get hot and flustered, so I retreat to the sofa and vow to keep it zipped. ‘How was your trip to Aruba?’
‘Ghastly.’ I think Francelia’s lip is curling, but it’s hard to tell with all the fillers. She doesn’t offer up any more information.
‘Good to be back home then?’ I can see beads of sweat starting to form on Alice’s forehead. I hate the way this woman’s mere presence turns my friend to mush.
‘I wouldn’t exactly say that.’ Francelia places her teacup down and clasps her hands on her lap. ‘Anyway, the reason I popped over this evening…’
Yes! This is what Alice and I have been waiting for. She’ll tell us why she’s here, we’ll deal with whatever it is and then she can clamber back onto her broomstick and fly back to Harrogate.
But Francelia doesn’t get the chance to divulge her reason for descending (uninvited and without warning) as there is the unmistakable – and panic-inducing – sound of key meeting lock from the front door. I turn to Alice and our eyes meet, wide, startled, conveying what our mouths are desperate to say.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.
We’re up off the sofa and barrelling into the hallway in a split second, Alice reaching the front door milliseconds before me. Kevin takes an alarmed step back when he opens the door to see us standing there, panting like rabid dogs.
‘Go!’ Alice hisses, eyes darting backwards to make sure Francelia hasn’t followed.
Kevin laughs, but he’s frowning. ‘What?’
‘Didn’t you get my message?’
‘What message?’ Kevin, painfully slowly, takes his mobile out of his pocket, holding it out to show a blank screen. ‘I turned it off during the performance. I must have forgotten to switch it back on.’
‘Francelia’s here.’ Alice’s eyes dart back towards the living room before she addresses her boyfriend again. ‘You have to go.’
Kevin sighs, long and heavy, but he knows the deal.
‘Fine. Text me when she’s…’
‘Hello? Who’s this?’ A shiver runs down my spine at the sound of Francelia’s voice. She looms behind us, no doubt fighting against the Botox in an attempt to arch a practised brow at poor Kevin.
‘This is Kevin,’ Alice squeaks. ‘Emily’s brother.’
I look at Alice, then Kevin (who is in the process of folding his arms in an ‘oh, really?’ way), then back at Alice.
‘Emily’s brother has a key to your house?’ Francelia doesn’t miss a bleeding trick.
‘For emergencies,’ Alice says.
‘And what’s the emergency right now?’
Alice’s mouth opens. She shuts it again. She’s got nothing.
‘He’s also staying with us for a few days.’ I shouldn’t encourage Alice’s cover-up of her relationship, but I can’t stand to see her flounder. ‘On the sofa.’ I roll my eyes at Kevin. ‘What are you standing out there for, bruv? Get inside, you big dope.’
If Alice notices the majorly pissed-off look on her boyfriend’s face as he steps over the threshold, she doesn’t show it. She leads us all into the living room, where the three of us sit on the sofa – Alice on the left, Kevin on the right and me in the middle.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,’ Francelia says as she arranges herself in the armchair. She flashes Alice a reproachful look.
‘It’s Kevin. Kevin Jackson.’ He holds out his hand, but Francelia doesn’t acknowledge it, never mind shake it.
‘You have a different surname to your sister?’
‘Different dads,’ I say as Kevin settles back down into the sofa.
‘Hmm, it figures,’ the witch mutters before turning her attention back to Kevin. ‘So, Kevin Jackson. Why are you – a grown man – sleeping on your sister’s sofa? Don’t you have a home of your own? Don’t you work?’
‘I’m a music teacher,’ Kevin says and Francelia nods.
‘At the local school like Emily? That explains it then. No wonder you’re “sofa surfing”, as they say.’
‘I’m not sofa surfing. I have a place of my own.’
‘Oh?’ There goes the eyebrow again. ‘Then why aren’t you sleeping there instead of on this sofa?’ She points at the sofa we’re all sitting on, in case he needs clarification.
‘His flat’s being fumigated,’ Alice says. ‘For rats.’
Francelia recoils. I quite enjoy seeing her so uncomfortable, but Kevin is taking less pleasure from the experience.
‘How unfortunate.’ Francelia rubs at her calf with the pointy toe of the shoe that had designs on Carrot earlier. Her eyes roam the carpet for rodents, as though Kevin has turned into the Pied bleeding Piper and brought his little infestation pals along with him. ‘Anyway, the reason I popped over…’ She peers into her handbag, as though expecting to find a furry critter nestled there, before reaching gingerly inside. ‘Emily, this is for you.’
Chapter Three (#ulink_4b323aca-28db-55c6-8892-5bfd211bdb87)
‘For me?’
I observe the proffered envelope with suspicion. What is this? Surely no good can come of accepting anything from this woman? I do not trust Francelia Monroe. Not one little bit.
‘What is it?’ I ask, but my question is swallowed by the gasp beside me, followed shortly by a squeal and handclapping.
‘Is it…? It is, isn’t it?’ Alice has stopped clapping and is now bouncing up and down on the sofa. Francelia gives a curt nod before thrusting the envelope at me again.
‘Go on,’ Alice says, grasping me – quite tightly, again – by the arm. ‘Open it.’
