Page 16 of Love Unlocked

Al doesn’t feel the need to repeat himself.

‘Before I design the clean-up I need to determine the extent of contamination and risks for people and wildlife first—’

‘I don’t care,’ Al says, hating that he’s even giving Walter the time of day. ‘Just do your job that I got for you.’ And on that note he leaves, feeling pretty good about himself until he gets back to his office.

He could have left out the last part. It made him look weak.

8

Melody

Yes.

The simple one-word texted reply from Belinda, in answer to Melody’s question. Melody sits up on her bed, her mind racing as it slots together pieces of information. Multiple newspapers shift on the bed covers as she wriggles around excitedly. She’d been working late at a club the previous night, and had spent the morning reading a week of newspapers in bed, preparing for the podcast later, when she’d had an idea. Belinda and Derek had broken up on a Thursday. As had her friend Gemma and her husband. As had the night club owner she’d worked for last night and the young man working at the cloakroom. As had Filip Wozniak who keeps texting her. What had happened on that Thursday? Was there something in the zeitgeist? In the water? In the moon cycle? She’d fallen down a rabbit hole of crazy events and conspiratorial online chat groups, before moving to Friday’s newspapers – she’s as old-school with newspapers as she is with vinyl – and there it was, the answer she was looking for.

She texts her friend Gemma the same question she’d asked her mum.

Did you have a love lock on the Grace Plunkett Bridge?

Yes. Y?

Melody throws the covers off, sending the newspapers sprawling to the floor, and gets dressed for the podcast.

Melody isn’t concentrating on the road. A white van driver shouts at her when she runs a red light on her e-scooter. In her head she runs through her piece for the podcast, not wanting to mess up like she did last week. She still hasn’t spoken to Louise or Sam but she’s going to up her game this week. She has a good story for today and she can’t wait to share it.

At the studio she expects to find Prunella in her usual spot eating avocado and chia seeds, TV make-up still on, dressed in an outfit fit for the pages of an editorial magazine, but she’s nowhere to be found. Melody sits with Ed and waits, unused to being first. When Prunella’s Golden Goose trainers appear through the window, coming down the external stairs to the basement office, Melody sits back and puts her boots on the table. She got here first and she’s going to make a meal of it. Prunella’s sunglasses hide half her face, but still something seems off. The glasses come off and Melody’s smile quickly fades and she removes her feet from the table when she sees Prunella’s face. Prunella doesn’t look like Prunella. Her eyes are small and red and the skin around them is swollen.

At first she assumes it’s a facial procedure of some kind. Melody has yet to fall foul of anything cosmetic but the latest treatments and injections are Prunella’s favourite hobby and she’s starting to resemble a pin cushion. The air around Prunella tells Melody that it’s more than that.

‘What happened?’

Prunella quickly slides the shades back on.

‘It’s an allergic reaction. There were feathers in a thing.’ Tears roll down her face. Ed tactfully slips away.

‘Are you crying?’

‘No,’ she says in surprise. And then she starts crying, shoulders shaking up and down, while saying, ‘No, I’m not crying.’

She’s sad Barbie. Melody is so taken aback by this alien view that she forgets Prunella is real and hurting. She suddenly snaps to it and moves to her, offering her arms in a hug. Prunella accepts and breaks down.

‘Do you want to talk about it … in the pod?’ Melody asks, joking.

‘No.’

‘Do you want to talk about it with me now?’

‘No.’

‘Okay.’ She doesn’t want to push. ‘Just one of those days?’

Prunella purses her lips and nods, a kind of squeak comes out as a response. She sits down, exhausted, removes the glasses and Melody is concerned. Puffy eyes, with a gaunt face.

‘Please tell me you’re not sick.’

‘I’m not sick. Just distract me, please.’

‘Okay. Well, I’ve a whopper of a story, a theory I’ve been working on, which I’ll share with you on the podcast.’