AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Millie?’ Tom says again. ‘What are you going to do?’
chapter 51
millie
Harper is sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee from my favourite mug when I get back from my morning run. I have a blister on my left foot from my new trainers: the police have yet to return my running shoes. My sour mood is not improved when I see Harper propped up against my kitchen counter, leafing through one of my cookbooks, a cuckoo in my nest.
‘You’re out of Colombian dark roast,’ she says, turning down the corner of the page to mark her place. Dog-earing books is a cardinal sin I don’t even tolerate from Tom and I have to suppress the urge to snatch the book out of her hands. ‘And you’re getting low on milk, too.’
I open the drawer containing my coffee pods. I’m not about to defile my body with Tom’s decaff, which leaves me a choice between an insipid Nantucket medium blend or – God help me – the Caramel Vanilla Cream left over from an ill-conceived foray by my husband into variety packs when we first bought the coffee machine. I slam the drawer shut again. I’ll have to stop by the Lebanese hole-in-the-wall near the hospital for a decent hit of caffeine on my way into work.
I open the cupboard above the Viking range for my protein powder and am confronted instead by a neat row of condiments and spices. ‘What the hell, Harper?’
‘Oh, I moved that stuff to the bottom cupboard on the other side of the fridge,’ she says airily, flicking the page. ‘You want your spices by the cooker so they’re easy to get to.’
‘I want my protein powder and spices where I left them,’ I say tightly.
She flips the book around and holds it up to her chest so I can see the glossy double-spread colour photograph. ‘This looks amazing. What’s that weird chimney thing?’
‘It’s a tagine.’
‘Have you got one?’
‘Yes. Where’s Tom?’
‘He said he had to get to a meeting in town after he dropped the kids at school. He’ll be back around lunchtime. So, you’ve made this recipe? It’s, like, Moroccan or something?’
‘Harper, I don’t have time to chat. I need to shower and get to work.’
‘Oh, by the way,’ she calls as I start up the stairs, ‘I tidied your airing cupboard. It was super messy, so I folded everything for you. And I moved the towels to the lower shelves, so you can reach them better.’
I grit my teeth. She’s been here three days, and so far she’s rearranged my kitchen, my cupboards and the furniture in the sitting room: ‘Oh, I like the sofa here,’ Tom said, ‘you can see the TV so much better, and it makes the room look bigger.’
She’s bounced back to full health with irritating speed. If it wouldn’t negatively affect my patient mortality numbers, I’d strangle the girl myself.
When I come back downstairs after a brief cold shower – not by choice: Harper has used all the hot water – she’s in the hallway waiting for me.
‘Can we talk?’ she says. ‘It’s important.’
‘I’m running late,’ I say, picking up my keys. ‘Maybe when I get home. Unless you’re not feeling well?’
‘Oh, no, I’m fine. My scar’s a bit itchy, but I feel, like, basically back to normal.’
‘Good. Tell Tom I’ll be—’
‘It was Stacey in the car,’ she says.
I close the front door again. I don’t need to ask herwhichcar. ‘Are you sure?’
‘She looked right at me,’ Harper says. ‘She knows I saw her.’
I digest this for a moment. I’m not entirely sure I believe her, though I certainly believe Staceycapableof ramming her car into a young woman with two small boys at home without a second thought. But Harper has a pliable relationship with the truth, and it may suit her to position herself on #TeamMillie for now. There’s no better way to do that than to find a common foe: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
But the only way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.
‘Why didn’t you tell the police this?’ I ask.
‘Because it’s her word against mine. She’sStacey Porter. She’s a national treasure. Everyone loves her. Who’s going to believe me?’
