Hit and Run, Maria Frankland [books like harry potter txt] 📗

“I’ll be back shortly,” I say, grateful to exchange the cool hallway air for some warm sunshine. Even so, I shiver. I must look a right sight. Shapeless jumper, baggy jeans, and flip-flops. I rake my fingers through my hair. I should have probably tidied myself up. Particularly in view of the person I’m about to face. But maybe I’m past caring.

* * *

The police will accept they’re not going to find out who hit him.

Two and a half days have passed.

If they suspected me, I’d have been arrested by now.

Chapter 20

There’s no answer when I ring the bell. I can hear voices so tiptoe up the driveway and push the gate into the back garden. A girl is running in and out of a sprinkler. I recognise her as being a couple of years above Jack at school.

“What are you doing here?” Bryony jumps to her feet as I close the gate after me. “You can’t just barge into my garden like this.”

“You wouldn’t take my calls or reply to my messages.” I step towards her. “What was I supposed to do? I want answers.”

“Ella, go inside,” she says to the girl. “Put the TV on for a few minutes.”

“But Auntie Bry, I want to play in the water.”

“Just for a few minutes. Until this lady goes.”

“I want her to go now.” Ella scowls at me as she flounces past us into the house.

“I want to know what was going on between you and my husband.” I’m stood right in front of her now. Mum’s right. Bryony is very pretty. She looks cool and elegant in a long sundress and blonde hair which effortlessly cascades down her back. Without meaning to, I tuck mine behind my ears, feeling ugly and unkempt in front of her.

“Nothing was going on. Just yoga and meditation.”

“Is that what it’s called nowadays?”

“Rob and I were friends Fiona.” She looks straight at me with the green eyes which I imagine have stared into Rob’s. “It is allowed, you know.”

I hate her. And I hate him as well. Since I spotted them in a coffee shop a couple of weeks ago, it’s been hounding me. Now that he’s gone, I should let it go. But I can’t.

“You were together once. You and him. You shouldn’t still have been seeing each other. He was married to me. I thought all that had stopped, anyway.”

“All what?”

“Meditation.” I spit the word out like a fishbone. I know meditation was part of their connection to one another. Something spiritual. Something they couldn’t turn their backs on. I never had that with Rob.

Once, when Rob and I were having a heart-to-heart, he described Bryony as having too much of a bohemian attitude towards money. I really think that is why he married me – the huge inheritance from my grandmother would have attracted him. I’d only just received it when we met in the park, back in 2011. Though now it sounds as though Rob has been having the best of both worlds. Me and her.

“Look,” Bryony glances towards her patio doors. “Rob and I were close, I don’t deny that. But we weren’t having an affair. He was having trouble and confided in me, that’s all. And the yoga and meditation were helping him.”

“What sort of trouble?” He’s confided in her. I should have known.

She seems totally unruffled with the situation. I bet she doesn’t have to find her calm in the bottom of a snifter of brandy or glass of wine. “Have you been in touch with his work?”

“Yes. They won’t tell me anything.”

“That’s where you’ll find your answers. And with that friend of his.”

“Do you mean James Turner? What do you know about him?”

“Nothing really. Rob only came to me to find some peace. I’m only sorry that it obviously didn’t work.”

“Why didn’t he talk to me? I’m his wife.”

“And I was his friend. He should have been able to be friends with whoever he chose.” Her expression darkens. “Without worrying about repercussions from you. Do you know how scared he was that you’d find out he was here? Love is not a possession, you know.”

“Don’t start with your psychobabble. I wasn’t possessive. I just wouldn’t have wanted him hanging around with his ex. Who would?”

“You didn’t trust him at all, did you?”

“It would appear I had good reason not to.” We fall silent for a few moments. She knows more than she’s letting on. “Since he’s spent so much time confiding in you,” I say, “I want to know what you know about his money troubles?”

“I’ve told the police everything I know.”

“I’ve got a right to hear it too.”

“You haven’t got a right to anything from me. Ask the police to tell you if you’re so interested. I’m sure they’ll be in touch anyway.”

“Have you got an alibi for the other morning?”

She laughs now, a tinkly sound which makes my fist ball in my jeans pocket.

“They will not be looking at me when they look into you. And his ex-wife.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the ones with the history. The form. The reason. Anyway, I’m looking after my niece. I’d like you to leave. And if you come back, I’ll have you done for harassment.”

I stare at her. “Why are you being so awful? What on earth has Rob said to you about me?”

“Enough. You’ve put him through the mill over the years, haven’t you? He should have stayed with me.”

“Well, he didn’t, did he? He married me.”

“Ask yourself why.” She rubs her index finger against her thumb in a gesture that says money, then jerks her head towards the gate. “Please leave. Now.”

I open my mouth to respond, but tears sting my eyes. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry, so I do as I’m told and lurch away from her house, back onto the street. She’s lucky I haven’t got a drink inside me. I’d have punched her if I had.

I can’t face