It took me much longer than normal to get to sleep that night. My brain wouldn’t let me relax until I’d heard Marvin come up the stairs, go along the landing to his brother’s bedroom, and open and shut the door. Then my ears started straining to hear him moving about. Then they strained themselves even further, listening out for the sound of silence after he’d got into bed. Even then my mind wouldn’t let sleep come. Sometimes my imagination was a pain in the backside.
In the morning, I was awoken again by a knock on my bedroom door. Still needing sleep, I desperately wanted to ignore it but as I heard the door handle turn, I suddenly found myself wide awake.
‘I don’t know, Beth,’ Marvin repeated yesterday’s manoeuvres with the mug of coffee, milk, and sugar bowl, ‘you’re not very good at this taking it in turns to make the coffee, are you?’
I hadn’t realised I was supposed to be. And if I had, I would have got dressed before doing it, I thought, as I noticed that this morning he’d invited himself into my room wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts. He had very hairy legs.
‘How long do you think it’ll take you to get ready? Quick shower, bit of toast – what, about half an hour?’ He started to head for the door. ‘Then we can feed those cats of yours on the way.’
Damn! I thought, as he left the room, closing the door behind him. I’d briefly managed to forget that he was supposed to be taking me to the Isle of Wight today. All I wanted to do was curl up under the covers and go back to sleep, but I had half an hour to get up and get ready, and if I didn’t want him coming back in, I’d better get moving.