Page 18 of All Our Missing Pieces

‘So what are you doing here, Livvie?’ Her question surprised me; until now, we’d exchanged only barest details of what our lives were now – work, the house, what Orla had made for dinner – and none about what they’d been before. But I knew that was what she meant – she wasn’t asking why I was sitting in her bedroom before dawn, that was for sure.

‘I needed a place to live,’ I said. ‘Kind of urgently.’

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, nibbled round the edges of a chocolate before putting the middle bit in her mouth all at once, and waited for me to continue.

There was something about that moment – the horribly early hour, the intimacy of the bedroom, the dim light of the small lamp next to Beatrice’s bed, my feet tucked warmly under my dressing gown – that made me let my guard down. I found myself spilling out the story of Samantha and Gary, their party, Gary’s kiss, Samantha’s rage and my abrupt departure.

‘And then I saw Orla’s ad in the newsagent,’ I finished. ‘And she was right there looking at it, and it just felt right, somehow.’

‘So you never knew her before?’ Beatrice asked. ‘Or the house? You literally knew nothing about her?’

‘Nothing.’ Thinking about it now, it seemed like a mad decision – but who cared? It had all worked out fine.

‘And it’s all worked out great.’ Echoing my thoughts, she smiled again. ‘That’s cool.’

I remembered the word Orla had used, and smiled back. ‘Serendipitous.’

Beatrice yawned hugely. ‘Looks like we’re safe for tonight, anyway. We ought to try and get some sleep.’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’ Reluctantly, I stood up, feeling a wave of tiredness sweep over me. Then a thought struck me. ‘We should go to the pub. You know, for a drink.’

Beatrice hesitated for a second. ‘Why not? Tomorrow? Today, that is?’

‘Let’s do it. And… shall we ask Luke?’

‘Roommates night out!’

I stood up, moved towards the door and then stopped. ‘What about Orla?’

‘What about her? She wouldn’t want to come. It would be weird.’

‘I suppose so. Okay, then. It’s a date. See you later.’

‘Sleep well, Livvie.’

To my surprise, although too briefly, I did.

That evening, I left work on time and hurried back home. I showered, washing my hair and shaving my legs, and put on some of the expensive face cream Emily had given me for Christmas, which I’d been illogically saving for best.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Beatrice was hovering on the landing in her dressing gown.

‘I spoke to Luke,’ she said. ‘He’s up for it.’

‘Awesome! See you downstairs.’

I spent longer than usual doing my make-up and straightening my hair, and dressed in baggy combat trousers, a cropped vest top and high heels. Passing Beatrice’s door, I could hear her hairdryer going and smell hairspray and perfume; the bathroom door was closed and the shower running again, so evidently Luke was getting ready too.

But my excitement faded and I felt a pang of guilt when I stepped into the kitchen and saw Orla there alone, opening the oven to check on the progress of a lasagne.

‘You look nice, Livvie,’ she said. ‘Off out?’

‘Just down to the pub. Beatrice and Luke and me. We thought, since it’s Friday…’

‘And since it’s Friday’ – Orla seemed unruffled by my news – ‘I’ve opened a bottle of wine. It’s only supermarket plonk. Would you like a glass?’

Half an hour later, Beatrice, Luke and I left the house. Any worries I might have had about overdoing my outfit for what was after all just a casual drink had been dispelled by Beatrice’s appearance – she was wearing a short summer dress that showed loads of cleavage, and shoes even higher than mine. Luke was wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt, but they were free of paint splatters and he smelled of lavender and mint.

‘We scrub up okay, don’t we?’ He grinned.