Chapter Four
M arilyn put the coffee jug on the table and Bea cringed and got up to get a plate to put under it.
“It’s not that we’re trying to kick you out of your room or anything,” Robbie was saying, cutting into a sausage.
“God no,” said Marilyn. “We’d never do that.”
Which was odd because that sounded like exactly what they were doing to Bea.
“It’s just that there’s two of us and one of you and, well, with all Marilyn’s stuff, it might be a bit easier,” continued Robbie. “We could get some of those boxes out of the hallway, for example, and just store them in the bedroom if we’re using it. And then you can use the spare room. You always said you liked the mattress in there anyway.”
“It’s harder than the one on our bed,” Bea said. There was a moment of stillness as everyone recognized her slip-up. “I mean, the big bed. The bed in the other room. My bed.”
“Obviously, it would be a bit easier,” said Marilyn, helping herself to bacon. “But only if you want to.”
“Right,” Bea said, staring at her crackers and hummus. “Right.” She really didn’t want to move out of her room. All her things were there. It was comfortable. It was the one place she could close the door and know that Marilyn had never been.
Which was unkind because Marilyn was nice really. She’d made breakfast. She was trying so hard to make her way through what had to be a very uncomfortable and difficult situation. They all were.
“You don’t mind though, do you, Bea?” Robbie asked, looking up at her with those big blue eyes that had always used to make her heart feel funny. “It’d be easier, and it’d make more sense and it’s only for a few weeks until we get things settled.”
Idly, Bea wondered if she’d ever feel the same way about someone else as she’d felt about Robbie. Not that she felt that way now, she most certainly didn’t. From the second she’d found out that he’d been with someone else every ounce of love for him had leaked out of her pores. But it had been a nice feeling, a comfortable one, when it existed. One she wouldn’t mind sharing with someone else.
At least she was starting to think about the possibility of someone else. That had to be a start. Still, she’d have to be careful. She couldn’t have anyone else moving into the flat. Four of them here would be… practically an orgy, wrong on so many levels and a nightmare when it came to bathroom scheduling.
“Bea?” Marilyn was saying.
“She gets like this sometimes,” said Robbie. “Kind of spaces out.”
“I’m not spacing out,” said Bea even though she kind of was.
“So, about the bedroom situation?” asked Robbie.
Bea bit her lip. It did all make an awful lot of sense. She would prefer to be able to walk down the hall to the toilet without risking breaking her neck tripping over boxes. And Robbie so obviously wanted her to do this, and Marilyn so obviously wanted things not to be weird.
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Bea said. “Of course. I’ll move some stuff around this morning when you’re both at work, alright?”
“You’re a star,” beamed Robbie. “See?” he said, turning to Marilyn. “I told you she wouldn’t mind.”
“You’re a star,” parroted Marilyn with a pleased little smile that gave her dimples.
Bea had a sudden image of what their children would look like. All big blue eyes and sweet dimples, and she suppressed a shudder. Not that children made her shudder. It was more the idea that Robbie would have them, and have them with someone else.
“Right then,” Robbie said, standing up and wiping his hands on his trousers in a way that always made Bea want to hand him a paper towel like she was his mother. “I should be off. I’ll see you both tonight.”
It was the first time that Bea could remember actually not wanting someone to come home. Or perhaps wanting not to be home herself.
She was being kind, she was doing the right thing, but a tiny little piece of her was awfully upset about losing her home. That’s what was happening here. This place didn’t seem safe anymore, didn’t seem cozy or… or hers. It made her sad.
Robbie leaned over and kissed Marilyn and then leaned in and almost kissed Bea before, rethinking very quickly, patting her on the shoulder and leaving.
For a long minute or two, Marilyn and Bea sat at the table, then Marilyn cleared her throat. “I’ll, um, I’ll be getting my things together too, then.”
“It’s a bit early for you to go, isn’t it?” Bea asked, looking at the clock on the microwave.
“Want to get an early start this morning,” Marilyn said, even though it was perfectly obvious that all she wanted was to not be sitting at the kitchen table with Bea.
Bea let her go. After a while, she heard the front door close, and then quiet blanketed everything and she was finally alone.
Alone to do what? To move her belongings out of her own room? To search for a job that no one wanted to give her?
She sighed. Maybe it was time for a complete rethink. Like Robbie diverting himself from kissing her cheek and patting her shoulder instead. Maybe she needed to move on from cheek-kissing, or yoga teaching in this case, and head more toward shoulder-patting, whatever that might be.
The thought of sitting in an office all day made her feel a bit sick .
All had been fine and dandy until three months ago, when the gym chain she’d taught for had gone bankrupt. And then Robbie had come home with his… his news. And then life had sort of crumbled away.
She took a bite of cracker and wondered if she could maybe retrain to do something else. And if she could, where she’d find the money to support herself doing it. Then her phone rang and she picked it up quickly in order to stop thinking about changing her life just one more time.
“’Lo,” she said, mouth still half full.
“Bea? It’s me.”
“Liz?”
“Um, I need to talk to you. Can you come? I’m at St. Elizabeth’s.”
“The hospital?” Bea said, mouth falling open. She gathered herself. “Er, why? Are you alright?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Liz groaned. “But… I’ve broken my leg.”
LIZ WAS LYING in a bed with one heavily bandaged leg raised by a pulley system when Bea rushed in.
“I told you,” Bea wailed. “I told you that the universe was listening. You can’t curse ex-boyfriends to fall down the stairs and break their legs and then expect that there won’t be repercussions.”
“Calm down,” said Liz, looking pale but otherwise better than Bea had expected. “Did Robbie break his leg?”
“No,” said Bea.
“Well then, I didn’t curse him, did I? And I didn’t fall down the stairs, just for info.”
Bea pulled a chair up beside the bed. “What did happen then?”
Liz sniffed and looked away. “I was changing the bathroom lightbulb and… fell off the ladder.”
Bea groaned. “That’s practically the same thing,” she said.
“Oh, quit your superstitious clap-trap,” Liz said. “I didn’t ask you here to fill me with doom and gloom. I’m in hospital, I’ve got quite enough of that already.”
“When can you go home?” Bea asked, thinking of Liz’s husband and their adorable dog.
“They’re operating tomorrow morning once the swelling’s gone down a bit. After that, it should just be a day or so. They can’t keep me down for long, you know how I am,” grinned Liz. “And then I’ll be back to Pina Coladas and watching Loose Women.”
Bea frowned. “Um, just how stoned are you right now?”
Liz beamed. “High as a kite, my little friend. Practically a satellite at this point. It’s terribly lovely, you know. Want to try some?” She began to fiddle with the IV in her arm.
“No, no,” said Bea, putting her hand over Liz’s.
“Please yourself, more for me,” Liz said, settling again. “Anyway, I’ve asked you here…” She giggled. “I sound like Hercule Poirot inviting all the suspects together in the drawing room to reveal the murderer, don’t I?”
Bea sighed. “Maybe we should try and stay on task? You need my help with something, right?”
“Right,” said Liz solemnly. “Very helpful that you are.” Another giggle. “And now I sound like Yoda.”
“I’m not a fantastic cook,” said Bea. “But I can go around to yours and whip up a few things to put in the freezer for Den. He’s not vegan anymore, is he?”
“Oh no, he eats all the little animals now.”
“Right. And do you want me to take Brandi to my place? I can make sure she’s walked and fed and—”
Liz suddenly clamped a heavy hand over Bea’s. “Why are you acting like my husband’s an imbecile? He’s very capable of taking care of himself and the dog. He’s a grown man. You don’t need to be running after him and looking after him, I certainly don’t.”
“Ah,” said Bea. “Right. Yes.”
Liz struggled to push herself up on her pillows, wincing a little as she did so. “No, no. Den’s fine.” She took a deep breath, like she was trying to sober herself up. “Den’s fine. Brandi’s fine. I’ll be fine. It’s the yoga that’s not fine.”
“Hard to do yoga with a broken leg,” Bea agreed.
“Exactamundo,” said Liz, looking serious. “Which is why today is your lucky day, my lovely little friend.”
“I wish you’d stop calling me little,” Bea said. “And lucky how exactly?”
“Because… Because of the retreaty relaxy place.”
Bea searched her head to decode this. “Ah, right, the retreat that you’re supposed to teach at.”
“Exactamundo,” beamed Liz again. “And you’re just the job for the person. The person for the job. The… You can do it.”
“You want me to take your place?” Bea asked.
Liz smiled beatifically. “Exactamundo.” She closed her eyes, then opened one and glared at Bea. “And don’t be a push-over, no letting people walk all over you, my little friend.” Then she closed the eye again and fell asleep.