Hit and Run Maria Frankland (general ebook reader .txt) 📖

the funeral director, Dad’s phone rings. It’s obvious from his face that it’s her. I can read Dad like a book. “Don’t tell her anything yet,” I hiss, walking to the kitchen door. Not wanting to overhear their conversation, I distract myself from my hangover and other woes, by keeping my promise of playing a game with Jack.

* * *

As he awaits his funeral,

accusations continue to fly

Speculation is rife.

Who knows what really happened?

I do.

Chapter 29

Jack’s voice rings through the house. “Mu-um! Simone and her mum are here.” I sit up in bed, surprised that I have slept the entire night without waking and glance at the clock. It is nine o’clock so I should be grateful that they have woken me as my appointment at the police station is in two hours.

Though what Rob’s ex-wife is doing here, first thing on a Sunday morning is anyone’s guess, and I could do without it. I can’t find a belt for my skinny jeans, so slide a long cotton top from its hanger. It will hopefully stop the gaping waistband from being visible. The weight is tumbling from me. I managed to eat a little of the stir-fry Dad cooked last night – his signature dish, but even now, the after-effects of Friday’s binge haven’t left me. It feels like I poisoned myself.

Before I have to deal with Denise, I should try to be more groomed, but can’t be bothered. Who cares what she thinks of me, anyway? I pass the spare room. Dad’s having a shower in the en-suite. I head down the stairs to where Denise waits at the bottom. Her expression is one of utter revulsion.

“I still can’t believe you ended up living in a house like this. Whilst we got what we did.”

“What! Oh, I’m not getting into this with you Denise.” I stand in front of her. “Where are the kids?”

“Jack’s taken Simone into the lounge to draw.”

I hate the thought of them spending time together, but it’s probably for the best that they’re not around to overhear any discussion we’re about to have. No conversation between Denise and me has ever been over friendly.

“I’m here about Rob’s will and life insurance.” Denise’s eyes are cold, her voice accusatory. In contrast with me, she’s piled weight on lately. She must be a comfort eater when the going gets tough.

“At nine o’clock on a Sunday morning. You’re kidding?” I fold my arms.

“I’ve had no money out of him for months. You owe me.” She points at me.

If anything is guaranteed to make my heckles rise, it is someone pointing at me. “I owe you absolutely nothing Denise. Your daughter is not my responsibility.” I resist the urge to add thank God.

I took a step back from Simone a couple of years ago, after becoming exhausted from trying to get on with her. I got sick of her whining possessiveness of Rob whenever we were all together. She wouldn’t even allow him to sit with me. It became easier to leave them to it. I guess we didn’t stand a chance as stepmother and stepdaughter, not with her mother dripping poison into every orifice.

“She’s your husband’s responsibility though.” She spits the word husband out, like a fishbone. “And I don’t care if you have to put your posh house on the market. As long as my daughter gets what she is entitled to.”

“You’ve always hated me, haven’t you? I can’t believe you’ve turned up like this. Rob’s not even cold on the slab yet.” I’m going to have to make her leave. I’ve no control over my temper right now. I’ll end up thumping her and to assault someone else less than two hours before I’m due at the police station, wouldn’t be a wise move.

“I want what my daughter is owed Fiona.” Her usually ruddy face is pinched white. “It’s disgraceful how you and that selfish sod of an ex of mine have treated us. You will not get away with it, you know.”

“I’d like you to leave. Now.” I turn towards the closed lounge door where I can hear Simone and Jack laughing together. They get on well – it’s me she doesn’t get on with. “Simone - your mum is leaving. Come on, please. Now.”

“What about our money? I mean it. I’m not letting this go.”

Every line and crease is visible on her face. She’s only a few years older than me, but looks more late than early forties. Time has not been kind to her. “When I find Rob’s will and life insurance, if either of them even exist, I’ll let you know if she’s entitled to anything. But let me get past the funeral first if you don’t mind.”

She points at the lounge door this time. “She has got a name. And I want to know about the money now, not after the funeral.”

“Tough.” I reach past her and open the door. I need to get ready for this police interview. I want her gone.

She steps towards me. “You stole my life you know. This,” she sweeps her arm in a circular motion as her eyes scan the hallway. “This should have all been ours.”

“Out. Now.”

Simone emerges from the lounge. She looks just like Rob. Long, wiry limbs, pointed features and the same slant to her eyes. I can’t bear to look at her.

“Why do we have to go Mum? I want to see Jack. He’s my brother.”

“Half-brother.” The words leave me before I plan to say them.

“You’re such a bitch,” Denise snaps.

“I hate you,” Simone says as she passes me. “You should be dead, not my dad.”

“Simone, get in the car. She’s not worth getting upset with.” She points her key fob towards the door. Her car is parked across my driveway. I watch as Simone stamps through the open door toward it and notice there is no nearside wing mirror. It has been snapped off. Not only that, there is some considerable damage around the headlight. It’s dented right