‘Thought you were Arsehole.’
Natalie pushed the door open gently. ‘Oh, don’t be like that. You know how he is if he can’t get his daily fix of current events.’
Lilah groaned. ‘I’m just so sick of it here. Can’t we go somewhere else?’ She pulled the sheet off her head and sat up straight. ‘I know! Let’s nick Andrew’s car and drive to the coast.’
‘Lilah, we can’t do that…’
‘We can! Just for a day, or two. We can go swimming in the Med, pick up sexy French boys… We deserve it!’
Natalie clambered onto the bed next to her, getting under the sheet and pulling it back up over their heads, like a tent. ‘We can’t do that. And you don’t want to pick up French boys, you’re just cross.’ Lilah rolled onto her side, draping her arm over Natalie’s body.
‘Don’t you long for it sometimes, though? The idea of being elsewhere.’
Natalie rolled onto her side too, so they were facing, their noses almost touching.
‘I’m happy here.’
Nat went into the room next door and robbed a spliff out of Dan’s cigarette case. They sat on the bed and smoked it, and then Nat decided that, because Lilah had been denied the joys of Radio Mélodie FM, she would sing French pop songs, to cheer her up. They lay on the bed and laughed and laughed until tears ran down their faces, until they were gasping for breath. All of a sudden Nat leapt up, scrambling to get off the bed. She just about made it to the door and then she stood there, bent over a little, her knees knocking inwards, her face red turning to puce.
‘Nat? Are you all right? Nat? Are you peeing yourself?’
Seventeen years later, Lilah stood on the doorstep and laughed out loud. She flicked her cigarette butt into the snow, desperate all of a sudden to run inside and say, ‘Do you remember the time Nat peed herself?’ But she couldn’t, of course, because she was sworn to secrecy on pain of death, so the only people who knew that Nat had peed herself were Nat and Lilah. And she had a feeling Nat wouldn’t find it funny any more.
She was too cold to stand outside any longer, so she pushed the front door open and crept back inside.
‘Good morning,’ she said, popping her head around the kitchen doorway. ‘Any coffee going?’
‘Lilah! Jesus. You’re blue, do you know that?’ Jen looked horrified. ‘Were you outside? I thought I heard the door go – what on earth were you doing?’ Jen caught hold of her wrist and pulled her over next to the wood burner. ‘Sit there. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.’
Lilah allowed herself to be dragged over to the fire; she flashed Andrew her best naughty little girl smile.
‘Went out for a fag, innit?’ She gave him a wink. ‘How are you, Drew? You look knackered.’
‘Thank you, Lilah. You look… freezing.’ Lilah sat down and crossed her legs, allowing her kimono to slip off her thighs. From underneath lowered lids, she looked up at him.
‘Oh, come on. I look better than that, don’t I?’
He shook his head impatiently, as though dealing with a naughty child, but she could see the blush creeping up from the neckline of his sweatshirt.
Fights over radio stations notwithstanding, they had been very happy here, she and Andrew. Yes, she would have liked to escape to the Riviera to drink cocktails and go dancing every once in a while, but most of the time she was content, working on the house and working on her tan, playing volleyball on the lawn, making love with Andrew on steamy afternoons in the bedroom upstairs, the two of them bronzed and fit, as perfectly, beautifully athletic as they were ever going to be. Looking at him now, greying, a little overweight, his shoulders a little hunched, his jaw just a bit too heavy, the contrast with that Andrew might have been shocking. Only Lilah wasn’t shocked, because the grey, and the exhaustion, and the slope of his shoulders, that hadn’t taken the best part of twenty years. That came pretty much overnight, and she’d
Natalie pushed the door open gently. ‘Oh, don’t be like that. You know how he is if he can’t get his daily fix of current events.’
Lilah groaned. ‘I’m just so sick of it here. Can’t we go somewhere else?’ She pulled the sheet off her head and sat up straight. ‘I know! Let’s nick Andrew’s car and drive to the coast.’
‘Lilah, we can’t do that…’
‘We can! Just for a day, or two. We can go swimming in the Med, pick up sexy French boys… We deserve it!’
Natalie clambered onto the bed next to her, getting under the sheet and pulling it back up over their heads, like a tent. ‘We can’t do that. And you don’t want to pick up French boys, you’re just cross.’ Lilah rolled onto her side, draping her arm over Natalie’s body.
‘Don’t you long for it sometimes, though? The idea of being elsewhere.’
Natalie rolled onto her side too, so they were facing, their noses almost touching.
‘I’m happy here.’
Nat went into the room next door and robbed a spliff out of Dan’s cigarette case. They sat on the bed and smoked it, and then Nat decided that, because Lilah had been denied the joys of Radio Mélodie FM, she would sing French pop songs, to cheer her up. They lay on the bed and laughed and laughed until tears ran down their faces, until they were gasping for breath. All of a sudden Nat leapt up, scrambling to get off the bed. She just about made it to the door and then she stood there, bent over a little, her knees knocking inwards, her face red turning to puce.
‘Nat? Are you all right? Nat? Are you peeing yourself?’
Seventeen years later, Lilah stood on the doorstep and laughed out loud. She flicked her cigarette butt into the snow, desperate all of a sudden to run inside and say, ‘Do you remember the time Nat peed herself?’ But she couldn’t, of course, because she was sworn to secrecy on pain of death, so the only people who knew that Nat had peed herself were Nat and Lilah. And she had a feeling Nat wouldn’t find it funny any more.
She was too cold to stand outside any longer, so she pushed the front door open and crept back inside.
‘Good morning,’ she said, popping her head around the kitchen doorway. ‘Any coffee going?’
‘Lilah! Jesus. You’re blue, do you know that?’ Jen looked horrified. ‘Were you outside? I thought I heard the door go – what on earth were you doing?’ Jen caught hold of her wrist and pulled her over next to the wood burner. ‘Sit there. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.’
Lilah allowed herself to be dragged over to the fire; she flashed Andrew her best naughty little girl smile.
‘Went out for a fag, innit?’ She gave him a wink. ‘How are you, Drew? You look knackered.’
‘Thank you, Lilah. You look… freezing.’ Lilah sat down and crossed her legs, allowing her kimono to slip off her thighs. From underneath lowered lids, she looked up at him.
‘Oh, come on. I look better than that, don’t I?’
He shook his head impatiently, as though dealing with a naughty child, but she could see the blush creeping up from the neckline of his sweatshirt.
Fights over radio stations notwithstanding, they had been very happy here, she and Andrew. Yes, she would have liked to escape to the Riviera to drink cocktails and go dancing every once in a while, but most of the time she was content, working on the house and working on her tan, playing volleyball on the lawn, making love with Andrew on steamy afternoons in the bedroom upstairs, the two of them bronzed and fit, as perfectly, beautifully athletic as they were ever going to be. Looking at him now, greying, a little overweight, his shoulders a little hunched, his jaw just a bit too heavy, the contrast with that Andrew might have been shocking. Only Lilah wasn’t shocked, because the grey, and the exhaustion, and the slope of his shoulders, that hadn’t taken the best part of twenty years. That came pretty much overnight, and she’d
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