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Chapter 42
Thursday 1st April
‘It’s OK! It’s just Megan! We’re coming up,’ calls Pete from the hall, and I let out a long, shaky breath.
Megan? What the hell is she doing here? And why on earth did Pete let her in?I think, even as my head swims with relief. We were still awake, of course, sitting in the lounge as instructed, the TV showing some late-night comedy hour that we weren’t really watching. We’d put together a cheese board to nibble on after dinner, with the cheddar and Stinking Bishop Jess had brought round, and we’d opened a bottle of shiraz, but neither of us really felt like drinking, taking only a few sips before pushing our glasses away.
‘I’m not feeling it tonight, are you?’ Pete muttered, and I nodded in agreement, although I noted with some amusement that he still wolfed down a generous portion of his smelly cheese.
When the doorbell rang, just after midnight, my heart practically leapt into my throat, my body involuntarily curling into a ball on the sofa, pressing into the cushions as if I was trying to vanish inside the fabric. Pete hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with me, before he jumped to his feet and headed for the door.
‘Pete! No!’ I shouted after him, but he was already halfway down the stairs, calling:
‘I’m just going to see who it is. I won’t open it!’
Now he appears in the doorway looking a little sheepish, Megan a couple of steps behind him.
She looks dreadful, I think. She’s wearing black skinny jeans and a plain navy hoodie, and as she walks into the room she pulls the hood down, revealing unbrushed hair and red-rimmed eyes, puffy from crying.
‘Sorry, Mary, but …’
Pete gestures at his now ex-girlfriend, and I nod. I can’t be angry, not with her in this state.
‘Come in and sit down, Megan,’ I say gently. ‘Are you OK? Would you like a drink or something?’
She shakes her head, then looks at Pete.
‘I just wanted … I just wanted to speak to Pete. I’m really upset. I went for a long walk, and I just ended up here somehow …’
She walked? From Prestbury? It’s miles,I think.
Her words sound slightly slurred, and I realise that she’s been drinking, a faint smell of alcohol now obvious. She sniffs, and a tear runs down her cheek, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
‘I didn’t want us to split up, and I just wanted to see if …’
Her voice breaks, and she sinks slowly onto the opposite end of the sofa and begins to cry quietly.
Bloody hell, I think.
Pete is still standing, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking from me to Megan and back again as if he has no idea what to do next. He looks pale, almost as if he’s in shock. I’m about to tell him to saysomething, for goodness’ sake, when from somewhere a mobile phone starts to ring shrilly, making us both jump. Megan, still sobbing, face buried in her hands, doesn’t even look up, and I scan the room, seeing Pete’s phone on the side table, its screen flashing. He grabs it.
‘Hello? Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have thought … yes, it’s fine, it’s just Megan, my girlfriend … well, my ex now, we’ve just split up and … yes, I know, but she’s really upset, and I thought just for a few minutes … yes, yes, OK. I understand. Thanks. Speak later.’
He ends the call, and gestures at me to follow him out of the room, pulling the door gently closed behind us.
‘That was the police,’ he whispers. ‘Telling me off for letting her in. But I couldn’t leave her on the doorstep, could I? She’s clearly drunk and … well, you know. She looks so bloody sad. The cops aren’t happy; they said not to open the door to anyone else, even if we know them. Listen, I’ll have a chat with her. I’ll try to make her feel a bit better and let her sober up a bit, and then I’ll call her a cab – is that OK? Could you give us a few minutes?’
I sigh.
‘Sure,’ I whisper back. ‘Just let me grab my phone and I’ll go down and make a pot of strong coffee. She looks as if she might need it.’
‘You’re the best,’ Pete says quietly, and he takes my right hand in his and presses it to his mouth for a second, before releasing it again.
‘Oh shush,’ I say, but I can still feel the soft pressure of his lips on my skin, and I feel a little flutter of pleasure.
He smiles, and together we walk back into the lounge. As we do so, Megan turns to look at us, and to my surprise she’s no longer crying. Slowly, she stands up, her eyes narrowing, and I see a strange expression flash across her face.
‘Very cosy, you two,’ she says coldly.
