Chapter 10 #2
“Hey!” she shouted as I ran, leaving her with something splattered all over the floor.
I couldn’t cope. And I took a giant jump over the equipment in front of the door to number four and got myself inside.
Not safe. This was not safe. Nothing was safe.
Bathroom. I got in. Closed the door that had no lock. Got myself in the tub and drew the shower curtain.
Then I sat there and let the shivers in my bones wreak havoc.
Because there was nothing good here. Nothing safe. Nothing at all.
“Hey, kid,” he said gently as I woke up. Peter. His hand gently stroking down my arm. Just up and down. “Probably not very comfy in there, but I get it. I only came in here for a breather, and there you were. Fast asleep.”
“Tired,” I lied. I wasn’t. I was awake. Just. The fuck? I’d fallen asleep here?
“It’s okay. Want a cup of tea if I go get one?”
“Great,” I said weakly, letting myself look at him. Soft silver hair, too long really. A strand of hair just about covering the crinkles at the edge of his eye. Kindness. He always looked at me like that, with…kindness. Not many people did that. But that was my Peter.
I had to stifle a weird giggle at my own thoughts. He wasn’t mine. Just…the weird guy I had to share a bed with. I didn’t mind. Weirdly I didn’t. What had Gina said? My man? Bullshit.
“Right,” he said, getting up, then reaching down to grab my hand. “Up you get.”
“I like it here,” I said, truantly.
“Not good for your back. Trust me. Years of work with a bad posture. Come on. Go lie on the bed, and I’ll bring the tea.”
He made me get upright, then left me by the sink, and I managed somehow to splash some water on my face.
My armpits were soaked and my hair? Too much product that I somehow couldn’t tame back to how it was supposed to look.
I looked unhinged. A mess. I also looked like I’d spent the last three years crying, and that was something no splash of water could fix.
Peter’s toiletry bag was right there on the side, and I cheekily let my finger move the toothpaste on the top to the side. There was some face cream there because I’d seen it before. There was also…
A laminated photograph. Mary. I knew Mary.
I mean, who didn’t? She’d been an institution in entertainment, a staple in the industry.
I had no idea what that actually meant, but those were words I’d heard thrown about over the past week and I…
She’d been beautiful. For an older lady, she certainly didn’t look like someone’s mum.
Slim, and perfectly styled, and next to her, a younger… and now I did laugh because he was…
Dashingly handsome, and that was no lie. Just a young fit bloke with a big smile and his arms around a woman who looked…happy.
“She was always happy,” he said as I jumped out of my skin.
“Sorry. I was looking for the…”
“It’s fine. The cream? Wondrous luminance. She was sponsored by them for years.”
I laughed, and he did too.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered.
“I know. We should mention it more. Stick it into conversation. They can’t use it because it’s all…you know. Trademarked.”
“It’s good stuff.”
“I still use it. I probably have another five years’ worth of stock at home. The boys won’t touch it. Someone has to use it up.”
“She was beautiful.” I had to say it, standing here with the photo still in my hand.
“She was. Inside and out. Not to say we had the perfect marriage, because. God knows, it was hard at times. We didn’t always…”
“You argued?” I had no idea what I was talking about.
“Of course we did. Only normal. But we had…differing opinions sometimes. Also normal. She was a little wild. I was nothing of the sort. Didn’t always mesh well.”
“I can imagine,” I said, gently putting the photograph back. Picking out the face cream and squeezing a small amount onto my finger tip.
“The smell will always remind me of her. It somehow calms me. Like…it used to.”
“That…” I couldn’t finish what I was saying. Instead I stood here with a woman’s scent on my fingertip. Feeling so ridiculous it wasn’t even funny. Also? Insensitive to the max. Even I could see that.
“Here,” he said gently, taking the cream from my finger with his. Rough skin against mine. “Just a little under the eyes. Covers up any little misdemeanour. That’s what she used to say. See? Now you look good.”
“Makes no difference,” I said flatly, staring at the dishevelled mess in the mirror. “I still look a mess.”
“No, you don’t.” Words spoken so softly I could barely hear them. “Your shirt is wet, though,” he continued quietly. “Let me get you a new one.”
I ripped it off, the shirt. I stood there with my flat chest and pale skin, my eyes blinking into the harsh light. A soft sheen of magic under my eyes. My lips dry and puffy. Hair? Oh, somebody help me. Save me from all this…catastrophic mess.
“Here,” he said, returning through the open door, passing me a new shirt. Then he froze. Just stood there looking at me.
Not long. Just a second too long. Enough to make his cheeks pink. His eyes flutter.
Then he walked out. Left me standing there with two cups of tea at the side of the sink and a stomach full of things that felt absolutely one hundred per cent…
Wrong.