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Keeley is curled next to Rebecca on the couch, her head pillowed comfortably on Rebecca’s chest and Rebecca’s arm around her as they scroll through vacation rentals, when he comes in.
“Hello, darling,” Rupert oozes into her office like the slimy rat’s arse that he is. “I hope you don’t mind—”
“Shove it, you shriveled old scrotum!” Rebecca doesn’t even look up as she scoops one of her Manolo Blahniks off the floor and hurls it in Rupert’s direction.
There’s a startled “urk!” followed by a heavy thump. After a moment, Keeley looks up and then pokes Rebecca.
“Hey, babes?”
“Mmm?” Rebecca thinks the villa in Marseille looks lovely, but maybe Greece this year…
Keeley pokes her again. “Rebecca.”
Rebecca looks up. Rupert is crumpled on the carpet with a horrified expression frozen on his lifeless face and Rebecca’s left stiletto sticking out of his forehead. “Huh,” she says, tilting her head thoughtfully.
“Yeah,” says Keeley. “That’s gonna stain.”
Rebecca regards the corpse for a moment and then leans her head out the window. “ROYYYYYYYYYY!” The action on the pitch comes to a sudden halt and Roy turns around. “I NEED YOU TO HIDE A BODY.”
Roy’s expression never changes. “I’ll get a tarp.”
“Good lad.” Rebecca turns back to Keeley and plants a tiny kiss right on the tip of her nose. “Where were we?”
“Marseille, I think. Yeah?” Keeley shifts and leans against Rebecca again.
“Yes, definitely.”
And they all live happily ever after, except for Rupert. And if the grass in the southwest corner of the women’s training pitch seems to grow a little faster than the rest, no it doesn’t.