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Today has been tough and I’m exhausted. My sales have dipped, I might have to head out to Singapore to fix it and Nicole was particularly omnipresent today; complaining as usual. I look at her out of the corner of my eye. Maybe if I stop engaging, she’ll keep walking and won’t stop. I don’t want to get into a discussion about her ‘rough night’.
‘You’ll be all right in the morning,’ I say, ending the conversation. I take another swig of my beer and turn up the episode ofThe West WingI’m watching, hoping she’ll take the hint.
She does so, entering her room and closing the door quietly.
Now I feel like a shit. Maybe something really horrible is going on. She’s an adult though, and I am her landlord, not her friend. I’m here to put a roof over her head as long as she keeps paying rent, not brush her hair while handing her tissues.
Against my better judgement, I go to her door and knock.
‘Yes?’ she says softly.
I didn’t think this far ahead.
‘You know that if you want to have a couple of friends round, you can?’ I offer. It is the best I can come up with.
‘Thank you.’
‘Just the hot single ones, though. And they’re more than welcome to stay over.’ I laugh. She doesn’t.
‘Is that all?’ she asks.
I feel like a total dick. ‘Yes, that’s all.’
‘Sure, goodnight.’
‘Night.’
Well, no one can say that I didn’t try. I get back into my show and try to put today’s challenges aside.
The next morning, Ariella is about to leave the flat in what looks like the same outfit she’s worn since Monday, with only the shirt colours changing daily. Nicole made a big deal pointing out her ‘uniform’ yesterday and was less than complimentary about her, which seemed a little harsh. Yes, she might be a little dull and may come off as a bit of a snob, but she seems pretty harmless.
‘Morning.’
She is more smiley this morning, or at least attempting to be, as she tips her finished grapefruit in the bin.
‘I ran past the Tube and there was a queue outside, so you might want to get the bus to Swiss Cottage before you hop on.’ Daily local morning news, delivered in person – one reason not to move out.
‘Thanks. Do you mind if I fill up the fridge? The butcher and grocer are meant to be delivering to my old place today. Can they deliver here instead?’
Who has a butcher and a grocer?
‘Sure, whatever you want.’
‘I think I might make a garlic and rosemary poussin tonight. Will you want some?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Just a small chicken, casseroled, with some root vegetables, herbs and lemon.’
It sounds a little posh for a Wednesday night, but I don’t mind. If she’s cooking, I’m eating. Bev still isn’t talking to me, so it might be good to stay away from the pub for a while.
‘Sure. I’m a bangers and mash kind of guy, so I’m sure your poussin will be fine.’
‘Would you prefer bangers and mash?’
I thought she didn’t take requests. ‘I’ll eat anything, the choice is yours.’
‘What time are you back?’
