‘What’s this for?’ Sue stared at the bills Raven had just pressed into her hand.
‘Rent,’ Raven clarified, as if she were regularly in the habit of plunging into her bag and handing people money. ‘It’s still alright to move in today, right?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Sue over-egged her smile. It was something her mother always chided her for. Appearing to be delighted when she was, in actual fact, completely mortified. Ironic, considering her mother was the most frequent recipient of the smile. Well. Maybe it was a tie with Katie. ‘It’s wonderful. Perfect. Moving in today is exactly what I was hoping for.’
‘Phew,’ Raven feigned swiping the sweat off of her brow, leaving a few crinkles of concern behind.
Sugar.
For some reason, Sue hadn’t foreseen this. Raven actually moving in.
‘Alright there, girls?’ The jolly chap who did ‘security’ (read: sat at the front desk, drank coffee and cadged any and all cake/biscuits that came in) bustled in out of the rain, took one look at the large duffel bags pretty much blocking the reception area and reached for them. ‘Anywhere I can help move these big boys?’ He gave them one of those knowing winks. ‘Health and safety, girls. I would’ve thought you 111’ers would know all about that.’ He pointedly placed a bright yellow Caution triangle in the centre of the entryway as if the two of them were the hazard that needed to be circumnavigated.
Sugar, crumbs and duck bums as Gaz would say.
There was no chance she’d be able to whizz home and make it seem as if she’d spent even a minute whirling round the house like Kirsty Allsop, zhushing this and fluffing that, quirking a throw pillow into a jaunty angle on top of an artfully arranged (but seemingly casual) collection of other throw pillows all in anticipation of Raven’s arrival. She’d not ironed any sheets. Bought a small bouquet of seasonal flowers. Made a warming pot of stew or even a Victoria sponge. She’d done absolutely nothing to prepare for a visitor, let alone a housemate. She hadn’t expected anyone to actually want to move in. Putting up the notice had felt more of a symbolic move. A sign that, despite every outward appearance that she was ignoring the fact her life had changed irrevocably, she was trying to move forward. And pay the mortgage.
‘You said it was alright—’ Raven’s voice was edged with the same panic Sue’s was.
‘Yes, I—of course it’s alright.’ Sue reached out to give her a reassuring pat at exactly the moment Raven crisscrossed her arms over her chest, her hands overlapping at her throat where … was that a skull pendant she wearing?
The entryway was getting busier. A steady stream of people shaking the sleety rain off of their coats, following Colin’s instructions (the security man had put his badge on now) about where to leave their sodden brollies. People going through their daily routine without so much as a thought that one day, it might all change forever.
What had she been thinking? Asking someone to move in.
Her stomach churned as she tried to imbue herself with the power to explain this had all been a horrible mistake.
She didn’t have room in her house.
She didn’t need a flatmate.
She just wanted to be able to pay her mortgage, was all.
‘Sue? I’m not really getting the vibe that you want me to move in.’
Sue goldfished for a moment, lightheaded with indecision. This was worse than the time she’d smoked one of Katie’s menthol cigarettes, only to throw up all over Katie, and that had been pretty bad. Worse, even, than the time she and Gary had gone to Portugal with the lads and their wives and she’d been the only one gullible enough to be tricked into eating snails. She should’ve known they weren’t cockles, but she hadn’t grown up by the sea, had she? Or the time she’d worn her swimsuit inside out. Those times had, of course, eventually become funny. Gaz had a knack for it. Getting her to laugh at moments that had filled her with mortification. It was one of the reasons she’d been attracted to him. Watching him josh around with his friends in the school corridors. Propping up the side of the newsagent’s with his foot and his back as he and his mates cracked one another up. He’d leap up from his post to open the door for the old women or mums with children. She’d liked that, too. He’d been a teen, and then a man, completely at ease with himself. Or so she’d thought.
Last night, just as she’d done every night since the funeral, she’d walked up the stairs, stood outside Gary’s office, fully intending to go inside and make up the small twin bed for Raven. Instead, she put her hand up, watched her trembling fingers bounce and jig closer and closer to the door handle.
Shellshock, her mother had said over and over in a stage whisper when she’d stayed with them in the weeks leading up to the funeral. P-T-S-DEE. That’s what they call it now. Her mother loved a good armchair diagnosis. Particularly when it was a psychological trauma. She was always calling out to the police detectives on the crime shows she devoured, ‘It’ll be a mother issue with that lad. Can’t let go of the apron strings.’ Or, ‘Most likely scarred by a kiddy fiddler, she was. Or, ‘Parents must’ve let her run circles round them as a child. Never knew boundaries.’
The only boundary Sue had ever crossed was marrying Gary. Her mother had disapproved. Her father, who had never seen anything wrong with marrying a tradesman – particularly one who had his own father’s business
