The Day She Came Back(64)

Gerald had already unfurled his own bin liner from a roll and was gingerly stepping among the flowerbeds, popping litter, cigarette ends and at least one condom into its dark confines.

She cringed. ‘Thank you, Gerald,’ she called from the hallway.

‘Less thanking and more doing is, I think, the order of the day. Let’s stop in an hour for tea.’

She liked his offer of a reward and looked around the hallway walls; thankfully, everything looked to be intact. There were, however, several scratches and scuffmarks on the parquet flooring, which she knew she could tackle with beeswax polish and a soft cloth. With her own bin bag now at the ready, she bent low to gather the horrible clutter of stuff on the floors and in corners that did not belong there, tutting at the rather grey-looking bra that not only had someone neglected to wash carefully, shoving it in with the dark colours, but had also seemingly neglected to put back on before going home.

Unsurprisingly, the drawing room looked the most forlorn. Partly due to the bare surfaces, from where Prim’s precious objets d’art had, thankfully, been removed, but also because the memory lurked of the crush of bodies and their squeaky trainers and heels, which had run rampant over the block wood floor. Here too she managed a sizable haul of trash, and she stepped outside to place her third bulging bin bag on the driveway. She looked up at the sound of a car door closing and saw Daksha walk up the driveway wearing rubber gloves and carrying a bucket from which poked various cleaning products.

Victoria couldn’t hold back; she ran to her friend and threw her arms around her, holding her tight. It meant more than she could possibly say to have her friend back by her side, and with Bernard in the garden room and Gerald roaming the hallway, for the first time since Prim’s death, she realised she was not alone, she was not alone.

‘I . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .’ Daksha managed over her shoulder.

Victoria pulled away and looked into the face of her beloved friend. ‘I am so sorry, Daks. I was an arsehole.’

‘You were an arsehole,’ Daksha agreed, restoring her glasses. ‘And I have to ask, are you now cured of this arseholeness, do you think?’

Victoria nodded. ‘I am. I really am.’

‘Well, thank goodness for that. I missed my friend.’

‘I missed you too. So much happened.’ She looked around the garden and remembered the flare of panic she had felt.

‘Give me the highlights or the lowlights, whichever.’ Daksha flapped her hand.

‘I guess a weird highlight would be there were people I had never met before having sex on the stairs.’

‘How on earth do you have sex on the stairs?’ Daksha looked perplexed.

‘Very carefully.’ Victoria nodded. ‘And then I struggle to pick a lowlight. It’s a toss-up between falling off my heels and then throwing up in the larder or finding Flynn in Prim’s bed with Courtney.’

‘Let me guess, his pants had fallen off?’

‘They had.’ She allowed herself the smallest of smiles, even though to recount it hurt. ‘And then Gerald turned up with a gun.’

‘You are kidding me!’

‘I’m not. He opened a can of whoop-arse and went all gangster. Everyone ran, taking their decks with them.’

‘Decks?’

‘Yes, you know record decks, for music.’

‘God, Vic, I know what decks are. What, did you think that I live in a cave? I was just wondering what kind of party it was if you needed decks at all?’

‘I love you, Daksha Joshi.’ Victoria smiled.

‘This is all well and good,’ Gerald called from the hallway. ‘Hello, Daksha dear, but love isn’t going to get this house straight. That we can only do with elbow grease and effort!’

‘I thought you said we could have a cup of tea?’ Victoria called out. Gerald checked his watch. ‘Not for another eight minutes.’ He winked and disappeared inside.



By mid-evening they’d finally, finally got the house almost fully restored and smelling fresh: the rubbish was gone, the floors cleaned and laundry sat in piles on the floor of the boot room. Bernard had left a little after midday and Gerald had only just headed home, with a huge hug of thanks. Victoria and Daksha now took up their favourite spots on either end of the freshly plumped and cleaned sofa in the drawing room. The three had worked tirelessly and had enjoyed congratulatory fish and chips around the kitchen table not an hour since. Victoria ran her hand over the waistband of her jeans, her stomach full of the food she had devoured at speed.

The drawing room felt wonderful. Having dusted each surface before returning Prim’s ornaments, and polishing the floor before replacing the rugs, the place actually shone a little more brightly than it had before the party.

‘There, all back to normal.’ Daksha yawned.

‘Are we all back to normal?’ she hardly dared ask.

‘Nearly.’ Her friend smiled. ‘Don’t worry; we’ll get there. I think you are going through something that most of us can’t begin to understand, and so the odd breakdown of normal service, nuts behaviour and pockets of lunacy are probably to be expected.’

Victoria nodded, not proud of the breakdown in normal service and hoping her nuts behaviour was drawing to an end, because, quite frankly, it was exhausting.

‘I have been feeling so empty and so angry,’ she confessed.