She looked at Sam, squatting on a footstool. ‘Sorry I was sharp,’ she said, and to her horror tears welled in her eyes. She muttered, ‘To be honest, I’m scared.’
‘Course you are. That’s why I offered.’ Sam gave a half smile. ‘I didn’t mean to rub it in.’
‘Kitty thumped the arm of her chair. ‘Life’s really shit.’
‘Yeah.’
She glared at the carpet, and Sam watched her face. After a while she groaned. ‘I can’t write this bloody thing on my own, and if I must have someone to help me, it might as well be you.’
Sam grinned. ‘You’d be doing me a favour, anyway. I can’t paint at the moment. My mind’s in the wrong place.’
Kitty blew a lengthy breath at the ceiling. ‘I may be the first dyslexic journalist in history.’
‘I’ll be here, for as long as you need me.’ Sam’s expression was so kind that Kitty wanted to weep again. ‘Oy. Don’t get all sentimental on me,’ she said, but she laid her hand onto the arm of the chair, almost as if she were reaching for him.
Sam lowered his own onto it and for the first time, Kitty did not push him away. They looked at each other, their eyes acknowledging something unspoken.
Kitty was the first to break the moment. She pulled her hand from under Sam’s and shot him a sideways look. 'I will write again. You realise that, don’t you? Because if I don’t, I’ll be hell to be with.’
‘I do.’ Sam beamed at her and grabbed the pencil. ‘OK, how do you want to start?’
‘Well,’ Kitty said, ‘I have a feeling there might be a novel in this.’
THE END
Find out more about Sue Nicholls on her website www.suenicholls.com. Here, you can follow her hilarious blog and discover more about her writing, as well as obtaining a free short novel: another intriguing case for Kitty and Sam.
