Billie Jo. Kimberley Chambers

poured herself and Chelle a large vodka and sat down opposite her friend.

      ‘Why don’t you charge the phone up, Chelle, and see if it’s working? If it is you might find out who his bit on the side was. She’s bound to have contacted him if she hadn’t heard from him. Or would you rather not know now and just remember the good times?’

      Chelle looked at her friend and shrugged. ‘I don’t know, what do you reckon? Oh fuck it, I’d rather know, I think. It’s not as though he can run off with her now and leave me with nothing, is it? I might as well know the truth.’

      Plugging the phone into the charger, Chelle noticed the signal on the front, and felt a mixture of fear and excitement. Terry had always left his mobile in his car, either that or it was in his pocket, and it was the first time she’d ever been able to get her hands on it. Stuffing a handful of peanuts into her mouth, she turned to Hazel. ‘It’s charging, how long shall I give it?’

      Hazel jumped up excitedly to check it was actually working. ‘Let’s give it half an hour or so. We’ll have a good drink first to prepare ourselves for the outcome.’

      Billie Jo stared at the Chinese takeaway and politely excused herself from the table. Tiffany and her family had been wonderful, but she desperately needed some time alone. There wasn’t a word in the dictionary to describe just how she felt right now. Devastated, distraught, heartbroken, they barely scratched the surface.

      Her father’s death was all her fault. If only she’d spent Boxing Night with him, like he’d wanted her to, he’d still be alive now.

      Shoulders slouched, she made her way into the living room. The silence was welcoming. The decorated tree reminded her of how Christmas used to be her favourite time of year. The trip to Lapland, visiting Santa’s Grotto at Harrods. Her dad and Davey Mullins had even organised a surprise Christmas party one year, where they’d dressed up and entertained all her friends. Billie wiped her eyes. It upset her too much to think about her wonderful dad. She needed to forget, lock the past inside her broken heart. That was the only way she could even begin to cope.

      A few miles away, Jade was going through the self-same motions as Billie. Returning to Romford and her memory-filled flat had made her feel giddy with pain. If it hadn’t been for her unborn child, she was sure that she would have ended it all. By taking her own life, she would have been with him, been able to tell him all the little things that she was so desperate to say.

      Worried about her mental state, her parents had insisted on staying with her. She hadn’t wanted them to, as being alone was the only way she could even attempt to grieve.

      Escaping into the loneliness of her bedroom, she lay down and cried like never before. The sheets bore his DNA. His scent was apparent and she immediately vowed never to wash them again. They would be put away, stored as a keepsake of the man who had been so cruelly taken from her.

      Chelle got a bottle of wine out of the fridge and poured herself and Hazel a large glass. She’d been on the vodka all day but it wasn’t touching her. She needed to feel like she’d had a drink to listen to Terry’s messages and wine always worked wonders for her. Part of her pondered if she was doing the right thing. Did she really want to know who her husband had been knocking off?

      She’d been surprisingly calm since the news of Terry’s death. Partly because she’d been permanently pissed and partly because she was relieved that he hadn’t run off with his fancy bit. She would have hated being left a penniless laughing stock. His death was a tragedy, but at least she had the sympathy vote and financial security. Terry had taken out a life insurance policy years ago to take care of his family if anything were to happen to him.

      Snapping herself out of her daydream, Chelle took the phone off the charger, switched it on and watched it flick into life. It frantically let out a series of bleeps, indicating the many answerphone messages that had been left. Chelle handed the phone to Hazel and topped her wine glass up. ‘I can’t listen to them, mate, you’re going to have to do it.’

      Hazel shoved the phone to her ear and pressed the appropriate button. The first few messages gave away nothing. One was from a pissed-up Dave from Maxie’s pub, one from some other geezer called Joe and one from Benny Bones. It was when Hazel got to messages four, five and six that things started to liven up. Jade had left all three. She’d left them the morning after Terry had texted her outside Maxie’s pub.