Substitute by Susi Holliday

Author:Susi Holliday [Holliday, Susi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2021-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Five

CHRISSIE (NOW)

Back at home, Chrissie dumps the shopping on to the table and shoves her phone into the charger. She tries to switch it back on, but the empty battery flashes red then the screen goes black.

‘Shit.’

She leaves it charging, then fires up her laptop to check her emails. While she’s waiting, she grabs the cold items from the bag and opens the fridge. There’s a bottle of wine in there, invitingly chilled. But it’s a bit too early for wine, even after all the stress. She slams the door closed and switches the kettle on instead. She checks her phone again, and the battery light is still red.

The laptop is waiting for her, but the only new emails are junk – offers from online stores she can’t remember signing up for and has never got round to unsubscribing from. She checks the junk and the deleted folders, just in case – but there is nothing of interest. Nothing from the restaurant, responding to her messages. Nothing from Joseph Marshall. Nothing from Nathan or Wendy either, but that’s not surprising. Neither of them communicates with her via email anyway. And even if they did, the pair of them are clearly still too mortified to know what to say.

It’s strange, because of all things, she’d have thought this betrayal would hurt more. But she feels disconnected from it, as if it is just part of the strange turn of events that started when Joseph Marshall came to her door – and maybe even the least important part.

She takes the other things out of the shopping bags and starts to put them away. She’ll take Amanda’s chocolates around later when she goes to collect Holly. She picks up the other box – Maureen’s box – and thinks again about Arthur. It can still be a coincidence, can’t it? She blinks away tears. It has to be.

Her phone beeps, and she snatches it up. The battery light has gone green – 5 per cent and charging. It’s come back on. She drums her fingers on the worktop, waiting for it to finish rebooting. Takes a mug out and drops in a teabag. The phone beeps again and the screen lights up. Then the tinkling sounds and short vibrations of missed calls and messages start firing like missiles. Her hands shake as she scrolls through. WhatsApps from Wendy and Nathan. Four voicemails. Missed calls from an unknown number. She’s dialling the voicemail when there’s a sharp knock at the front door.

She freezes. She’s too rattled for this. Her whole body is stiff with tension. The neck pain still flares when she moves the wrong way, and now a pulsing has started behind her left eye. She sucks in a deep breath, holds it, releases it slowly. Gently clenches her hands into fists and unclenches them, then does it again. Just a couple of the tips she learned from the therapist she saw briefly after her mum died. Just enough to calm her before she sparks off a full-blown panic attack.

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