AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 36
Saturday 13th March
I wake with a start when my alarm, the weekday one I forgot to turn off, rings shrilly from my bedside table at 7am. My first thought is about how disgusting my room smells.
Why? Why does it smell like this?
Then I remember, and sit up slowly, first looking at the takeaway bag on the floor, cold, greasy-looking chips spilling out of it onto my cream carpet –and, seriously? Is that a piece of batter on the end of the bed?I think – and then turning to see Pete’s sleepy face on the pillow next to mine.
‘Stinks like a fishmonger’s in here,’ he mumbles. ‘Morning.’
‘Oh bloody hell, Pete. We really need to stop doing this,’ I reply. ‘How did that happen? We can’t even use booze as an excuse for last night. We were both stone-cold sober.’
‘I know.’ He sounds more awake now, rubbing his eyes and then propping himself up against the headboard.
‘I mean, I don’t know. And … oh shit, is it seven already? I need to get back into the office – we have a few more hours to do on that rush job this morning, and I said I’d see Megan at lunchtime. I’m absolutely going to talk to her today, OK? I need to get it over with, especially after … Oh hell, I’m so sorry, I just don’t have time to discuss any of this now. Do you mind?’
The guilt is rushing over me again –poor Megan– but Pete is on the move, and without waiting for a reply, he pushes the duvet back and climbs out of bed, scrabbling on the floor for his clothes. He clutches them self-consciously to his naked groin as he bends down and drops a clumsy kiss on my forehead.
‘Have a good day,’ he says; then, turning back to look at me as he reaches the door, adds, ‘And you really need to think about cleaning your room one of these days, Ellis. I think I can see an onion ring in your slipper. Look, there. I mean, honestly, you’re such a slob …’
‘YOU CHEEKY—!’
I grab a pillow and lob it at him, and he ducks and runs from the room, laughing. I lie down again, grinning myself now, but the smell of the stale food is too much. An hour later the room is clean again, windows flung open to allow some fresh air in, and I’m showered and downstairs making breakfast, and wondering how to spend the day. My mind is once again full of uncomfortable thoughts about my feelings about my housemate and what we’ve just done, as well as the usual bubbling anxiety over the bloody Diary Killer, and all I know for certain is that I don’t want to sit and dwell on any of it.
‘Distraction, that’s what I need,’ I say out loud to the kettle.
I end up wandering round the shops in Montpellier for a few hours, coming home with a pair of slouchy cream linen dungarees, an inky-blue ceramic vase, and a box of candied fruit cannoli from the Italian bakery, none of which I really need, or indeed want. I’ve just sat down in the kitchen with a cup of tea and some mushroom pâté on toast, when I hear the front door open, and two people chatting animatedly.
Pete and … oh no, really? Megan. It’s bloody Megan,I think.
I look frantically around the room, almost tempted to run and hide behind the little sofa. Then I realise that would be ludicrous behaviour, and stay where I am, bracing myself.
‘Oh, hi, Mary,’ says Pete, as they walk into the kitchen. ‘I … erm, I didn’t know if you’d be here or not. I thought you might have gone shopping or something. Sorry … we, erm … we won’t be here long. I’m just picking up some stuff to take over to Megan’s …’
He looks as awkward as he sounds, and I smile stiffly, trying to ignore what I’m sure is a suspicious expression crossing Megan’s face as she looks from Pete to me and back again.
For goodness’ sake, Pete. Just tell her it’s over. What’s all the delay?I think.You’re just making it worse.
But of course I don’t say it. Instead I say brightly, ‘Oh, that’s OK. Iwasout shopping, yes. I’ve just got in actually. Just having a quick lunch …’
I gesture at my plate, and Megan frowns.
‘Why are you two being weird? Have you had an argument or something?’
‘No!’ I exclaim, at exactly the same moment as Pete says: ‘Yes! We have …’
We both fall silent.Shit! Shut up Pete,I think, and Megan takes a step backwards, eyes flitting from one of us to the other.
‘Oh. So which is it, then?’ she says, her voice cold.
‘It wasn’t really an argument,’ I say lamely, looking at Pete.
He looks back at me and …
Oh, come on! Is that really a hint of a smile I can see?
‘No, it wasn’t,’ he says, and turns to Megan. ‘More a disagreement. We’re fine. Nothing to worry about. Look, I’m just nipping upstairs to get a few things. Help yourself to a tea or whatever. I’ll be two minutes, OK?’
