The Secret Mother(42)

‘Oh, right.’ She backs up to the landing. ‘Well, I’m not a burglar, as you can see.’

‘Hmph,’ I reply. ‘How did you get in?’

‘I wanted to do something nice for you.’

‘Answer the question, Carly. How did you get in?’

She mutters something under her breath.

‘What?’

‘The key under the plant pot,’ she mumbles.

‘How dare you!’ I cry. Scott stupidly told Carly about that key back when we were friendlier and she agreed to come over and water the plants in the garden while we were on holiday. And I – even more stupidly – didn’t think to remove it after Scott moved out. In fact, I’d forgotten it was even there. ‘Is it back under the pot now?’ I ask.

She gives me a sheepish look, so I hold out my hand.

‘You sure?’ she asks, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head. ‘It might be handy for me to hang onto it in case you ever get locked out.’

I give her my best scowl and push my outstretched hand up close to her face.

‘Fine, okay.’ She draws the key from her pocket and drops it into my palm.

‘Look, Carly, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for whatever it is you want to surprise me with. I’ve had another shit day in a long line of shit days, and I’m having an even shittier evening. I just want to go to bed and read my book with a cup of tea, if that’s not too much to ask. So please, take your surprise and get out. You’re bloody lucky I don’t call the police.’

‘That’s a bit overdramatic,’ she says. ‘Just trust me. You’ll like this.’

Trust her? Ha. That’s a joke. It takes all my willpower not to scream at her. How can she have such a thick skin? She hasn’t even apologised for being here. Can’t she see how completely out of order she is?

‘So,’ she says, ‘my brother, Vince, he’s a builder. I asked him to come over and fix your window. Ta-da…’ She pushes open my bedroom door to reveal a scruffy guy in his early twenties next to my bed, standing on a stained and paint-splattered blanket, rummaging around in a large tool bag. He looks up and nods my way. I glare at him, noticing he’s already removed the sheet of chipboard from the window and propped it up against the wall. The curtains billow as freezing air sweeps into the room.

I’m so taken aback, I can’t actually think of anything to say. I’m furious at Carly for presuming it would be okay to let herself and her brother into my house while I’m out. But I can’t yell at her like I want to because she’s here to supposedly do me a favour although I’m highly suspicious of her motives. She’d better not have been snooping around. I narrow my eyes, wondering what she’s up to. I don’t believe she’s doing this to be nice.

‘There’s no catch,’ she says, reading my mind. ‘I just want to help.’

‘You should have asked,’ I say.

‘I was going to, but you were out,’ she says. ‘And this is the only time Vince is free to do it. I saw you come back, speak to the police and go out again. Look, after all the crap you’ve had to deal with, I figured you could use a break.’

If I kick her out now, I’ll look like an ungrateful cow. ‘I haven’t even had any quotes yet,’ I say. ‘How much is this going to cost?’

‘Vince doesn’t want any payment.’

With my current financial situation, an offer like this is not to be sniffed at. On the other hand, I could really do without more people disrupting my evening. ‘How long is it going to take?’

‘Vince?’ Carly says.

‘Half an hour, tops,’ he replies without looking round.

‘Okay then,’ I say. ‘Thank you, I suppose.’ This doesn’t mean I trust her, but at least once her brother’s fixed the window it’ll keep out the arctic draught and I’ll be able to sleep in my bedroom again.

I take a couple of steps across the landing to the airing cupboard, press the central-heating switch and wait for the rumble and swoosh of the boiler to fire up. It’ll take ages for the house to warm up, so I shuffle back into my bedroom – where Vince is now pulling out shards of glass from the window frame – and grab a fleecy sweater from the chest of drawers. I slide off my coat, pull the sweater over my three existing layers of clothing and shrug my coat back over the top. Not for the first time, I wonder why I can’t be left alone. Just for one day.

‘Don’t suppose I could have a cup of tea?’ Vince says hopefully.

I roll my eyes.

‘I can make it,’ Carly offers.

I ignore her. ‘Okay, how do you take it?’

‘Milk, two sugars.’

I stomp back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Carly follows me. What’s she still doing here? Is she planning on staying until her brother’s finished? I’m not sure why she needs to be here too, but it would be churlish to ask her to leave. After all, she is doing me a favour. Although if I was being picky about things, this whole press debacle was her fault in the first place, so really, fixing my window is the least she could do.

‘Sorry my text was a bit abrupt this morning,’ she says as I switch on the kettle. ‘It’s just, I was really banking on you speaking to Flores. Finding out what she knows.’