‘Really?’
‘Not the thing to focus on, furniture bomber. What are we going to do now?’
Looking down around him, a piece of lettuce astride his socked foot, he winced. ‘I’m going to get my credit card out, and pay for this fixing.’
Rebecca looked at him, one hand on her hip and one hand on the back of her couch to steady herself. ‘Credit card? For who, the cleaning fairies? Last time I checked, they dealt in cash or toddler teeth. Go look in the long cupboard in the kitchen, there’s a mop bucket and a dustpan and brush in there. I’ll get some cleaner for the couch.’ It was red wine, so she didn’t hold out that much hope, but she wanted to get out of her clothes. Looking at him, she realised he probably felt the same. ‘Sorry, we should probably go shower first.’
His eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together. ‘I mean separately, of course. You go first, I’ll wait till you’ve done.’ He looked like he wanted to argue, so she moved first. Which wasn’t that easy, given that she was standing on cushions, covered in junk and bits. Taking a small step forward, she toppled a little, and his arm was around her middle in an instant, pulling her tight to him and squashing a piece of tomato that was hanging out on his top between them.
‘Careful,’ he said, close to her cheek. ‘The glass. Stay there, till I get it cleaned up. Don’t move. You go shower first, okay?’ He was oddly masculine, and for a second she thought he was going to ask her to braid her hair and head to the Red Room. His knitted tank top ruined the daydream a little, but she went with it. He steadied her, and not letting go, he stood down, avoiding the shards. Leaning forward slightly, he looked around him, mentally and audibly mapping out his path. Turning back to her to give her an all clear, he then leaned forward a bit more. His head was hovering near her stomach, poised. ‘You ready?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said, and before she got so much as a pinkie off the fabric, he hoisted her right up over one shoulder, and crab walked to the hall. He didn’t stop there either, heading straight to her bedroom, her slightly panicked hands grabbing at his bottom to try and stop her head from moving like a windscreen wiper. ‘Hey! I can walk now, thanks.’ He opened her bedroom door, and when they were both inside, he whirled her around in his arms, and put her gently to her feet. She couldn’t see him very well, since her hair had come loose and was now around her head like a lion’s mane. Scraping it back behind her ears, she puffed a bit of fringe out of her eyeline.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he started. ‘I’m sorry that I’m saying sorry, yet again. I must be your worst nightmare. I swear, in my flat, I have a nice place. I’ve lived there a year now, and only had one minor house fire. Well …’ He was still holding her around the waist, and seemed oblivious to the fact. She didn’t know why she hadn’t brought it up either. Trauma perhaps? Shock? She’d felt something. It was probably her stomach mourning the loss of that meal. ‘It was pretty minor. There was a singed rug over the balcony incident.’
‘Really? What happened?’ She could feel her lips twitching. He really was a geek. He was adorable with his glasses on, his face all pinched up at the memory.
‘Well, I pulled my tea out of the oven, and it was on fire, so I dropped it on the rug. Then the rug caught fire, and I just grabbed it and, well, I ran out onto the balcony and threw it over the side.’
He moved a hand away from her waist to illustrate his story, imitating himself throwing a flaming rug out into the night. She laughed, but it stopped in her throat when he put his hand back where it was. She could feel the heat from him. He seemed to notice it too, because he looked down at his hand.
‘The thing was, the neighbour had a lot of pots out, and some clean washing. The whole lot went up, she ended up moving out for a while, it was a whole thing.’
He squeezed his hand tighter, just for a second, and then released her. Looking into her eyes, he gave her a shy little smile. ‘Anyway, no fires here. I’ll go clean up, shout me when you’ve done.’
He left the room, leaving her standing there staring after him. A moment later, the radio started playing again, and she half smiled as he started to sing. Heading for the shower, she realised that she hadn’t thought about competitions or failures for a few hours. It felt pretty good. Maybe Saturday wouldn’t be so bad after all. Bearable even.
Chapter 4
There was a pretty pot of daffodils on the windowsill, but they couldn’t be real. Wrong time of year, he was sure. As sure as he was about anything these days. He’d have a look, ask someone usually. Offer to cut some fresh blooms from his own garden. Stuck here, in this squeaky-wheeled bed, he couldn’t do a thing but stare at them. Was the water in the bottom real? If he knew that, he could figure it out. He squinted his eyes, but his face still felt odd. He wasn’t sure he even had control.
‘Morning Frank, time to get up and shaking lad. Come on, your friend is here to see you again. I wouldn’t keep her waiting either if I were you.’
She was
