The Consequences by Colette Freedman

God, I’ve just realized it’s Christmas morning.”
    â€œNew message. Message was left today, Saturday, 28th December.”
    â€œStef, it’s your mother. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely and to see how you were. Give me a call when you get home. It was lovely to see you, even if it was a short visit. The good news is that Joan’s husband, Eddie, is coming up for New Year’s Eve. She told me you gave her some good advice. So, you see why you should come home more often. Your father sends his love.”
    â€œEnd of messages.”
    The kettle whistled, and she returned to the kitchen to make tea. Well, in Robert’s defense, he had made the effort, and he did seem to be genuinely concerned for her. She rooted through her range of teas, looking for something soothing. In the end she chose a caffeine-free Egyptian Licorice. She wasn’t too fond of the taste, but she loved the smell. Cupping the teacup in both hands, breathing in the spicy aroma, she wandered out of the kitchen and into the living room and allowed herself to take in the room, which still bore all the evidence of her terrible encounter with Kathy and Robert. The Christmas presents Robert had brought lay in an unopened pile on the ground. The flowers had wilted in the heat, curled petals everywhere, and the helium balloon lay deflated over the back of the chair.
    Stephanie sank into her usual chair and sipped the tea. She looked at the unopened presents he’d brought and felt not the slightest twinge of curiosity about their contents. She’d give them back to Robert the first opportunity she got.
    She wondered if Robert’s wife had noticed the gold-and-silver-wrapped presents piled behind the sofa when she’d stepped into the room on Tuesday. They were gifts Stephanie had bought for Robert, and now she wondered what she was going to do with them. She certainly wasn’t going to give them to him; maybe she could return them.
    She glanced at her watch, wondering what time the removal of remains would finish. Would Robert come directly to her, or would he have to drop his wife home first? And if the removal was today, did that mean the funeral would be held tomorrow or Monday?
    And then a thought struck her: Would she have to go?
    She detested Jimmy Moran, though she’d always moderated her real opinion when Robert was present, because she knew the two men were great friends. Jimmy Moran had built a completely undeserved reputation through a combination of extraordinary arrogance tempered with too little talent.
    The last conversation she had with Robert about Jimmy had taken place a week before Christmas. Jimmy’s wife, Angela, was finally throwing him out because she’d discovered that he’d had a child by his long-term and much younger mistress, Frances. Angela had put up with a lot from Jimmy over the years—his constant drinking, none-too-discreet affairs, financial difficulties—but that had been the final straw. She was divorcing Jimmy and looking for her share of everything. Stephanie recalled that Robert had been outraged by what he saw as Angela’s vindictiveness. He’d been unable to understand Stephanie’s support for Jimmy’s wife. She’d been surprised, and just a little disappointed, with his reaction. Surely he accepted that Jimmy had treated his wife abominably, and that while he had a duty to his girlfriend and her child, he was also morally and legally obliged to provide for his wife? Stephanie sipped the sweet, aromatic tea, and she wondered how this boded for her own news.
    A sudden thought struck her, and she put down her tea and picked up the phone. She dialed a number from memory as she carried her suitcase into the bedroom. The phone rang once before it was picked up, and a brusque, cultured, and very British voice said, “Flintoff.”
    â€œGood afternoon, Charles. It’s Stephanie . . . Stephanie