later.
‘I just wanted to ask you if you knew where . . . Good heavens, what a mess.’ Petra stood in the doorway.
‘It must have happened while we were in the storeroom. What a nightmare.’ Nina’s voice shook and her mind raced. She was angry. ‘Someone here clearly doesn’t like me.’ She didn’t name names.
‘Are you sure the mess was deliberate?’ Petra winked. ‘You know what these thespian types are like. Just plain messy buggers.’
‘No. No, I clearly remember it being tidy when I left.’ She bent down and picked up a nineteen-forties dress. ‘How can anyone be so thoughtless?’ Nina stood, wondering what she would say to Rosalind next time she saw her.
Then, distracted by the predicted stampede off stage, Nina returned to her work. During the course of the day, she gradually tidied up. It was only as she was packing up for the night that vague thoughts began to stir.
‘What would you do,’ Nina began, ‘if Tom found out that you . . .’ She trailed off, unsure how to explain exactly what she meant. ‘Well, if Tom discovered that . . .’ Again, words failed her. She sighed and sloshed boiling water on to coffee granules. After the day she’d had, what she really wanted was a stiff drink.
‘For heaven’s sake, Nina, spit it out.’ Laura opened the refrigerator and took out the milk. Something was up. Nina never usually called round on the way home from work. ‘So? If Tom found out what?’ Laura snorted out a half laugh. ‘Tom wouldn’t notice if I was nailed naked to the kitchen table with another man sprawled on top of me.’
‘Oh Laura, I’m sorry,’ Nina said, thankful for the diversion. What she really wanted to say just wouldn’t come out right. Instead, she touched a hand on Laura’s arm as she took the milk.
Laura pulled away. ‘You can’t leave me hanging like that. Tell me what you were going to ask.’ Laura slurped her drink then emptied an entire bag of oven chips on to a baking tray. ‘Get this. Tom said he’d cook every other night to
share the domestic burden
after I asked him if he’d forgotten where he lived.’ She said it in a demented voice. ‘So far that’s amounted to him bringing home two takeaways in the last week and suggesting we eat out for his other shift.’ Laura shoved the chips in the oven and cracked the ring pull on a can of baked beans.
Nina watched her friend blast angrily through the evening’s domesticity. She found herself thinking back to last night and the prawn curry Mick had whipped up. He’deven made his own naan bread. ‘Men are lousy cooks anyway,’ Nina lied, hoping it would make Laura feel better. ‘They make too much mess and we’re the ones left—’
‘I just can’t bloody take it any more, Nina.’ Laura slammed her mug on to the worktop and a circle of coffee pooled beneath it. ‘All I do is moan. It’s soul-destroying. And all my moaning is about him. It never used to be like this. There’s someone else. I’m sure of it.’ Laura’s brittle voice was desperate. Nina had never witnessed her so close to breaking. ‘It’s over, Neen. I give up. I want a new life.’ Laura briefly sank her face into her hands, let out three or four pitiful sobs before wiping her eyes and fixing a smile on her face. She was adept at burying her feelings. ‘Now, damn well tell me what you came here to get off your chest.’
‘Forget what I was going to say. It’s not important.’ Nina burned her tongue as she gulped her coffee. ‘Talk to Tom. Talk to anyone. Just get help.’
Nina helped by slapping sausages on a baking tray and snipping the twist of skin joining them. ‘Nothing like a bit of home cooking, eh?’ She laughed.
‘The kids like sausages,’ Laura said dismally. She took the greasy wrapper and chucked it in the bin. ‘It wasn’t meant to be like this.’ She dropped her arms against her thighs. ‘You know, sausages, arguments, two kids who grunt to communicate, and a husband whose personality
‘I just wanted to ask you if you knew where . . . Good heavens, what a mess.’ Petra stood in the doorway.
‘It must have happened while we were in the storeroom. What a nightmare.’ Nina’s voice shook and her mind raced. She was angry. ‘Someone here clearly doesn’t like me.’ She didn’t name names.
‘Are you sure the mess was deliberate?’ Petra winked. ‘You know what these thespian types are like. Just plain messy buggers.’
‘No. No, I clearly remember it being tidy when I left.’ She bent down and picked up a nineteen-forties dress. ‘How can anyone be so thoughtless?’ Nina stood, wondering what she would say to Rosalind next time she saw her.
Then, distracted by the predicted stampede off stage, Nina returned to her work. During the course of the day, she gradually tidied up. It was only as she was packing up for the night that vague thoughts began to stir.
‘What would you do,’ Nina began, ‘if Tom found out that you . . .’ She trailed off, unsure how to explain exactly what she meant. ‘Well, if Tom discovered that . . .’ Again, words failed her. She sighed and sloshed boiling water on to coffee granules. After the day she’d had, what she really wanted was a stiff drink.
‘For heaven’s sake, Nina, spit it out.’ Laura opened the refrigerator and took out the milk. Something was up. Nina never usually called round on the way home from work. ‘So? If Tom found out what?’ Laura snorted out a half laugh. ‘Tom wouldn’t notice if I was nailed naked to the kitchen table with another man sprawled on top of me.’
‘Oh Laura, I’m sorry,’ Nina said, thankful for the diversion. What she really wanted to say just wouldn’t come out right. Instead, she touched a hand on Laura’s arm as she took the milk.
Laura pulled away. ‘You can’t leave me hanging like that. Tell me what you were going to ask.’ Laura slurped her drink then emptied an entire bag of oven chips on to a baking tray. ‘Get this. Tom said he’d cook every other night to
share the domestic burden
after I asked him if he’d forgotten where he lived.’ She said it in a demented voice. ‘So far that’s amounted to him bringing home two takeaways in the last week and suggesting we eat out for his other shift.’ Laura shoved the chips in the oven and cracked the ring pull on a can of baked beans.
Nina watched her friend blast angrily through the evening’s domesticity. She found herself thinking back to last night and the prawn curry Mick had whipped up. He’deven made his own naan bread. ‘Men are lousy cooks anyway,’ Nina lied, hoping it would make Laura feel better. ‘They make too much mess and we’re the ones left—’
‘I just can’t bloody take it any more, Nina.’ Laura slammed her mug on to the worktop and a circle of coffee pooled beneath it. ‘All I do is moan. It’s soul-destroying. And all my moaning is about him. It never used to be like this. There’s someone else. I’m sure of it.’ Laura’s brittle voice was desperate. Nina had never witnessed her so close to breaking. ‘It’s over, Neen. I give up. I want a new life.’ Laura briefly sank her face into her hands, let out three or four pitiful sobs before wiping her eyes and fixing a smile on her face. She was adept at burying her feelings. ‘Now, damn well tell me what you came here to get off your chest.’
‘Forget what I was going to say. It’s not important.’ Nina burned her tongue as she gulped her coffee. ‘Talk to Tom. Talk to anyone. Just get help.’
Nina helped by slapping sausages on a baking tray and snipping the twist of skin joining them. ‘Nothing like a bit of home cooking, eh?’ She laughed.
‘The kids like sausages,’ Laura said dismally. She took the greasy wrapper and chucked it in the bin. ‘It wasn’t meant to be like this.’ She dropped her arms against her thighs. ‘You know, sausages, arguments, two kids who grunt to communicate, and a husband whose personality
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