One flick of her eyes towards him, and she could tell. He had no idea what she was going on about. He looked bewildered.
‘The bin?’ she ventured. Nothing. Just a gormless, rather scary-looking shepherd with stubble stared back. ‘You came into my room, peed in my bin and then passed out on my bed.’
His face went slack, his jaw practically swinging loose. Relief washed over her. If he didn’t remember that … He knew less than Jon Snow. Luke didn’t know her, or her past. Either that, or Hans had told him with beer-lubricated lips, and then he pickled that knowledge with alcohol.
‘I didn’t,’ he said eventually, feebly from his sloth position on the countertop. ‘Did I?’ His Yorkshire accent grew thicker as he started to mutter and curse under his breath. If her mother were here, she’d be mortified. The last time Rebecca had said ‘nowt’ to her mother when she had asked what was wrong, it had been hell. All week her irate mother had sent her interviews of sporting people having ridiculous accent meltdowns on TV. To be fair, the French Joey Barton clip had creased her, Hans, and Holly up for weeks.
‘I am so sorry. I don’t drink that much, as a rule.’ It took a minute for her to realise the tea towel was still mumbling.
‘Good rule,’ she quipped grumpily, thinking of the pee bucket in her room, next to her lovely, warm and usually man-free bed. ‘You had a good night though?’ She kept it light, but really she wished she could take her wooden spoon and go digging in his hungover brain. Hopefully one of the brain cells he had killed last night contained Hans’s little Rebecca bulletin.
He nodded feebly at her, his brows furrowing and un-furrowing like aerobic caterpillars. ‘From what I can remember. I am sorry, I won’t do that again. I do appreciate you putting me up. I’ll go clean.’
Ready for him, Rebecca reached under the countertop, grabbing a roll of bin bags and some gloves. ‘Here.’
His face softened as he looked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. Damn it. This is piss in a bin guy, Becks. Knock it off. ‘I’ll be coming back up in ten. I need some shut eye before we open.’ Oh crap. I dropped a ‘we’ then myself accidentally, but I can’t take it back now. Too obvious. I can see it though, floating in the air between us. I need to pluck it out of the air, stuff it back in and force out an I. I will open. This is temporary, having 00-drunkie under this roof. She made a mental note to call Hans as soon as the hour was suitable for ringing a friend, to bollock him. Holly’s pregnant and bored too, so I bet she’ll give him a good ribbing for me.
Luke, moving for the first time as though he was human, came towards her around the countertop, reaching for the items she was offering him. She felt his fingers close around her hand, just for a second, before he withdrew. Slowly, like his fingers were saying hello to hers. She didn’t totally pull hers away either. Sleep deprivation was making her cuckoo.
‘I am sorry, for last night. And this morning, I suppose. I know it must have been a lot for Hans to ask, you putting up with me and everything. I do appreciate it though. It was a bit of a spur of the moment thing. I didn’t even realise what it involved, really.’ He looked around him and out of the window. The view was looking rather spectacular this morning, with the light trickling over the mountains, showing the fresh, untouched powder. He stopped talking, transfixed. Rebecca found herself looking at that powder, remembering how it felt the first time she had been the one to ski through that pure white canvas.
‘Living here must be amazing,’ he said, almost wistfully. She nodded, but couldn’t bring herself to answer. The chicken timer went off, and the moment was broken. He jumped as though a grenade had gone off behind him, his knees bending in reflex. Rebecca had never been more grateful to an inanimate object in her life. Well, nearly. She was a single girl after all. The nights were long, lonely, and full of battery-powered distractions. She didn’t answer, and after a moment she could see his shadow move towards the interior stairs. She took her phone out of her apron pocket and went to tap out an expletive-filled text to Hans, but he’d beaten her to it. She put the phone on the counter as she read the first few words.
I know you don’t like any of this, but he’s a friend. He needs help, and I know you understand that. Please try to remember that. Don’t hate me. Holly is typing this for me, because I am a drunken dickhead who tried to call you with the remote control. I am in big trouble.
She didn’t need to read anymore. I don’t want to know anything else. Denial is a powerful bedfellow, and I fancy snuggling up with it just that little bit longer. She knew what Hans was like. He was the biggest lug with the loudest voice, and the biggest heart too. As unlikely as his friendship was with Luke, who looked like Kevin Hart beside the Rock when the two friends
