Page 61 of The Girlfriend’s Secret

‘I love you,’ I had said then in response, simply unable to contain my happiness at how everything was working out. Not only had I successfully managed to get away with murder and make myself rich in the process, the one person who was threatening to ruin all of that was now gone and I was looking forward to eating a tasty takeaway to celebrate that fact.

As the call ended, I couldn’t picture how life could get much better. But that was earlier and now, as the front door opens and my nostrils detect the first scent of the delicious food that Frederik has collected on his way home, I realise it is going to get better. Not just because I’m about to be eating all sorts of delicious things, from egg-fried rice and noodles to Peking duck, but because once this meal is over and we’ve all had a good night’s sleep, the fun can begin.

The travel planning. The house-hunting. The new car shopping. Whatever else I want to do with all the money I now have, I’m sure me and my husband are going to get a lot of enjoyment from figuring out ways to spend it.

But before that, I want some bao buns.

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ Frederik says to me as he enters the kitchen, holding up the two big bags of food emblazoned with the logo of our favourite Chinese restaurant.

‘Hungry? I’m starving,’ I say with a smile before taking the plates out of the oven that I put in earlier so they would be warm when we place our food down on them.

Moments after my husband’s grand entrance, I see our eldest son making his own entrance, strolling into the kitchen looking far more clean-cut than he usually does. It’s always weird to see him dressed in anything other than oil-stained overalls, but he is wearing a smart T-shirt and jeans combo tonight. He’s shaved too. He looks good. Fresh. I make a mental note to make more of an effort with my own appearance now that I have the necessary funds to do so. But I notice one other unusual thing about Scott. He is carrying a cardboard box into the room.

‘What’s that?’ I ask him as he places it down by the table where we will be eating shortly.

‘It’s a box from Grandma’s house,’ he says. ‘I was over there earlier. It’s full of photos that I want to have a look through.’

‘How did you get into her house?’ I ask before Scott holds up a finger from which a recognisable key is dangling.

‘I wondered where that had got to,’ I say when I realise it is one of my mum’s spare house keys, and the one I noticed had been missing when I was looking for it. ‘When did you take that?’

‘The other day,’ Scott replies casually before tossing me the key, and I place it down on the counter, rolling my eyes at my son’s sneakiness.

‘You could have just asked to borrow a key,’ I say to him. ‘You didn’t need to take one without telling me.’

‘Sorry,’ Scott mumbles back before going over to assist his father with all the food.

As the pair of them unpack several containers of noodles, rice and various meats, I figure it’s a good time to go and get the one missing member of the family.

I head upstairs before lightly knocking on Joel’s bedroom door.

‘What?’ comes the cry from within.

‘Dinner is ready,’ I call back.

‘Not hungry.’

‘We ordered Chinese.’

I count to five before the bedroom door predictably opens and Joel appears, looking like an underground animal coming to the surface for the chance of something to eat.

‘How are you feeling?’ I ask.

‘Rubbish,’ comes the curt reply before we go downstairs and join Frederik and Scott at the table.

The generous assortment of food is already laid out, and my eldest son is tucking in, although he pauses respectfully when he sees his brother is here.

‘I’m sorry about Haven,’ he says simply as his sibling sits down opposite him.

‘Thanks,’ Joel replies very quietly before the only noise in the room is the sound of cutlery hitting plates.

‘We need wine,’ I decide before getting up to find a bottle and, when I do, I think about how this is one of the last cheap wines I’ll ever be drinking. From here on out, it’s only the good stuff.

I pour myself and Frederik a glass before offering our sons one of their own. Scott accepts but Joel declines, though that doesn’t stop me pouring one for him anyway.

‘It’ll make you feel better,’ I say to my youngest as I slide the wine glass across the table towards him, and while he looks at it like he doesn’t believe that, he eventually picks it up and takes a sip.

‘It’s been a rough week or so, but things can only get better from here,’ I say, raising my glass to the table. ‘As long as we all stick together, we’ll be fine.’