Jenny followed Dorothy into the kitchen.
‘Christ, Mum, is that the foot?’
There was a poo bag in the middle of the kitchen table the size and shape of a foot.
‘Sorry,’ Dorothy said, scooping it up by the tied handles and swinging it over to the kitchen worktop. ‘I had to put it somewhere so the dog or cat didn’t get it.’
‘There are six body fridges downstairs.’
‘All full.’ Dorothy filled the kettle at the sink and switched it on.
Jenny looked at the two giant whiteboards on one wall of their kitchen-diner, one for funerals, the other for PI cases. The funeral one was full, lots of death work. The PI one was less busy, just an ongoing missing person and a possible unfaithful husband, their bread and butter these days.
The room filled with the whoosh of the kettle as Dorothy made tea and wiped the table where the foot had been with a wet cloth.
‘Nice health and safety,’ Jenny said as she went to the window, took in the view of Bruntsfield Links. Late afternoon and the park was full, families and students, tourists getting some unexpected sun. Her dad’s ashes were scattered out there and she liked to think his spirit had soaked into the grass, although she didn’t believe in any of that. But then she thought the same thing every time she looked out of this window, wasn’t that a kind of belief? Working in funerals had made her realise that truth didn’t matter much in the face of faith. The private-investigator stuff was more about truth, but she wasn’t convinced that knowing the truth helped.
Schrödinger skulked in, avoided her as usual, then stretched out in a sliver of sunlight on an armchair. The cat still had the wiry frame and disdain of his street-cat roots. Einstein followed the cat into the room, sniffed up at the foot in a bag on the worktop, then wagged his tail at Schrödinger, who ignored him. It was pathetic, really, but they both seemed to get something out of the relationship, otherwise why do it?
‘I can’t believe my daughter is getting married,’ Jenny said, turning to her mum.
Dorothy was smiling. ‘I know, our little Hannah.’
Jenny was a long way from mushy about marriage, one failed attempt with a fucking murderer made sure of that, but Hannah and Indy were rock solid, so much stronger than anything she’d had, a fact that gave her a twinge of regret.
Dorothy placed mugs of tea on the table and sat down. ‘Do you remember how your dad used to sit her on his shoulders in the garden when she was little? Bounce up and down, trying to reach the wood pigeons in the trees. I thought it would kill him.’
She trailed off. Grief never died, it lay dormant then surprised you with painful waves at random times. Playing with his granddaughter didn’t kill him but a heart attack did.
‘She’s lucky to have Indy,’ Jenny said.
She was thrilled for Hannah, but her own marriage had failed and now she’d turned her back on a guy she might’ve had a second chance with. Dorothy’s marriage of fifty years was over, but at least she was back in the game with Thomas. Jenny had met him in the kitchen on a few early mornings recently, so he was staying over.
Dorothy sipped her tea. ‘We’re all lucky to have each other.’
A statement so obvious it didn’t need a reply, but it was good to hear the truth.
Jenny got her tea and nodded at the bag on the worktop. ‘What about the foot?’
‘Thomas got delayed, he’ll be here soon.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Nothing yet.’
‘So it’s just a human foot that turned up in the park?’
Dorothy shrugged.
Jenny sipped tea. ‘Is it male or female?’
‘I’m no expert, but I think it’s a woman’s, large though.’
Jenny stared at the bag, pictured it jumping off the counter and walking out of the house. A door banged downstairs, footsteps. Jenny imagined a second foot bounding up two stairs at a time to find its partner.
Hannah burst through the door, Indy behind, their faces tripping them.
‘Dad’s back,’ Hannah said.
Jenny swallowed and felt sick.
Dorothy straightened her shoulders. ‘What?’
Hannah told them about the break-in, the graduation sign, looked at Indy for reassurance, but it felt to Jenny like the volume had been turned down in the room, replaced by a ringing that turned into a roar. She felt suddenly hyper-aware of the dust motes falling in the strip of sunlight, the low-throb purr Schrödinger was making in his throat, the swish of Einstein’s tail on the floorboards.
‘Are you sure it was him?’ Dorothy said.
But who else would break into her flat on graduation day and put up a banner to let her know he was thinking of her, to let her know she was never safe, to throw an icy dart into her heart when she thought she was clear of him.
Hannah ran out of steam, Indy standing to the side now as if Craig’s bullshit had put distance between them.
Dorothy nodded. ‘You should move in here, just for a while. To be safe.’
Hannah turned to Jenny. ‘Mum, you haven’t said anything.’
Jenny shook her head. All her own bullshit was getting in the way, she had to make this as logical as possible. She hadn’t in the past and that was one of the reasons Craig was still out there.
‘We need to tell the police, obviously. Have you done that?’
Indy shook her head. ‘We came straight here.’
Makes sense, the Skelfs were the support network, the comfort through all this shit.
Dorothy stood up. ‘Thomas is on his way here anyway, to look at the foot.’
Hannah frowned. ‘What foot?’
Dorothy nodded at the bag on the counter just as the downstairs doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be him now.’ She picked up the bag and headed for the door.