[DCI Finnegan 05] House Arrest by Ely North

Author:Ely North [Ely North]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Handed Print
Published: 2023-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

29

Despite having a residential permit for parking on her street, Prisha cannot find a spot. She eventually finds a place to park in the visitor car park overlooking the west beach.

‘Bloody tourists,’ she grumbles as she steps from the car and wipes the sweat from her brow. Grabbing four heavy carrier bags of shopping from the boot, she trudges back to her abode. Feeling exhausted, she climbs the steps to the front door, fumbles with her keys and lets herself in. She gazes up at the narrow staircase which leads to her top-floor flat and groans. She plods up the stairs, deposits the bags down on the landing, rummages for her keys again, then kicks open the door.

‘I need to buy myself a bungalow,’ she mutters as she staggers inside, slamming the door shut with her backside. It’s been a long week, and it’s not only her limbs which ache but also her frazzled brain. Momentarily, she’s forgotten about the two cuckoos who have taken up temporary residence. As she enters the living room, she suppresses a groan. Zac is sprawled out on the couch, his long legs dangling over the edge. Opposite is Frank, slumped happily in the reclining armchair.

‘Bullshit!’ Frank erupts. ‘That linesman needs glasses. He was never offside.’

‘It’s you who needs glasses, Frank. He was offside by a mile,’ Zac retorts.

They are both engrossed in the football.

‘I see you two have made yourselves at home,’ Prisha snipes, gazing upon the clutch of empty beer cans on her precious coffee table and the empty snack packets that adorn her new carpet, accompanied by a scattering of crumbs.

‘Ah, Prisha. Long day?’ Frank enquires.

‘You could say that.’

‘Hey, if you’re heading into the kitchen, pop the kettle on and make a brew, would you? I’m gagging for a cup of tea.’

‘And while you’re there, grab me another Carlsberg from the fridge. There’s a sweetheart,’ Zac adds.

She glowers at them, but as they’re both focused on the television, it’s a wasted scowl.

‘Sport, beer, and tea. And who said men can’t multitask?’ Her observation goes unanswered. Bustling into the kitchen, she puts the groceries away, makes a cup of tea for Frank, grabs a beer for Zac and re-enters the living room.

Nothing much has changed on the TV apart from the ridiculously rich men in blue are now attacking the goal of ridiculously rich men in red. She hands Frank his brew.

‘Thanks, love,’ he says without averting his gaze from the sport.

She passes Zac his beer.

‘Cheers, Prisha. You’re a star,’ he says, instantly tugging the ring-pull and taking a hefty glug.

‘Or an idiot,’ she whispers to herself.

‘Why don’t you plonk yourself down and watch the footy. It’s a cracking game; Liverpool against Chelsea.’

‘I’d rather stick my head in a bucket of cold piss,’ she mutters, turning towards the kitchen.

‘Prisha,’ Frank calls out. ‘What’s on the menu for tonight? I was fancying a good old-fashioned casserole. Beef, carrots, potatoes, maybe with the addition of a few frozen peas. Yorkshire puddings would go lovely with it.

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