ED
It was Saturday and I surprised myself by leaping out of bed, wrapping my Rajasthani lungi around my waist. I was feeling the lightest I’d felt in a week – although this week had felt like the longest week in the world. I folded my bedding neatly away and stowed it behind the couch, then rearranged the futon back into couch shape, carefully arranging the throw over the top. Next I opened the window a fraction. A biting-cold wind came in but I knew Mara couldn’t abide fustiness, especially her brother’s. She had emptied a trunk for my possessions when I’d returned from India, and from this I pulled clean jeans and my one collared shirt. I sifted through my other clothes on the floor, making a pile of the dirties and neatly folded the rest, placing them in the chest. I stood back. It was a pleasant scene, this order first thing in the morning. I could almost get used to it. Gathering up piles of dirty clothes, and the ones to wear that day, I headed down the narrow hall to the bathroom.
The door to the bathroom was shut. Amazing – I’d never known it possible for Sam to be out of bed before ten o’clock on a weekend morning. Coffee first then.
A little while later, Sam’s eyes widened when she saw me with just my lungi wrapped around my waist.
‘Aren’t you cold?’
I rubbed my bare arms. ‘A little.’
‘You should have told me you were up – I could have got out of the bathroom a bit sooner.’
‘That’s OK, when a woman needs as much help as you do to face the world in the morning, I wouldn’t dream of demanding that you shorten your shower.’
‘Charming!’
She reached out and hit me playfully on the arm.
‘Didn’t hurt,’ I teased, hoping she’d do it again. I ran my fingers over where she’d just touched it in a ridiculous attempt to get closer to her.
She just narrowed her eyes at me and withered.
‘Whatever, Indian boy,’ she said, gesturing to my lungi.
‘You know you love it,’ I replied. She just sighed back. Maybe that was trying a little too hard. Still, she hit me. I’ll take that.
After breakfast, we both got stuck into cleaning and airing the flat. Mara had made good progress in the week since her accident. The doctors weren’t saying yet when she’d be discharged but Sam and I had both taken to keeping the flat immaculate, ready for her homecoming the minute she was allowed out. I suspected that Sam’s motive was the same as mine: if the flat was ready it would somehow speed up her return. Sam had also knuckled down big time with her work. She says she’s on a mission to pay back the rent she owes – again, trying to get everything in order for Mara.
The times I had seen her I could have sworn she was being nicer to me, and staying away from the topic I hated most. And she kept asking how I was coping. I suspected that Mara was behind this change in behaviour, and for my own sanity I tried not to fantasise it was because Sam was having a change of heart.
That morning, she opted to clean the bathroom – ‘as I need it more than you, apparently’ – and I set to work in the kitchen, wiping down cupboards and worktops, cleaning the windows, and brushing and washing the floor. George watched, bemused, from a chair, his tail twitching. I popped my head into the bathroom when I was finished. There was Sam, on her knees, leaning over the bath and scrubbing it fiercely with bright pink gloves. She leant back and pushed her hair out of her face, adding a wet slick down one side of her hair. Of course she hadn’t thought of tying it back, I chuckled silently to myself. She looked at me with bright eyes. I leant on the door frame. She really was utterly, painfully gorgeous.
‘Cup of tea, ugly?’
‘Gasping for one, thanks. I’m almost done.’ And she leant back over the bath and scrubbed some more. I had to wrench himself away to the kitchen, as it was too much watching her from behind. Way too much.
‘God, that’s good.’ Sam took a noisy slurp from her tea.
‘It looks good in here, Mara’s going to love it.’
‘She’d better!’
Sam sat back to allow George to transfer from his chair to her lap. She fussed over him for a while. I watched her, enjoying the moment.
‘So did you meet anyone nice in Scotland?’
Whoa, that came out of nowhere. I didn’t want to talk about other people, not now. Not when I had her to myself. I shrugged.
‘There was one woman.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘We had some fun.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘It was.’ I nodded. I supposed it had been. She was sexy and funny, and it was nice to flirt with someone. Would I have slept with her if I’d stayed the last week of the shoot instead of coming back? Maybe. Maybe not.
‘Good for you, Ed. Glad you had some action.’
I made a non-committal noise in the back of my throat and before I could stop myself asked, ‘Have you seen Charlie this week?’
‘No, I’ve either been working or at the hospital, haven’t I?’ Sam sounded sharp. I knew I shouldn’t have brought him up but it was so hard not to. After all, Charlie was the double-barrelled elephant in the room. Maybe she’d change the subject.
‘He hasn’t been in touch much actually.’ Sam’s tone was softer, confiding. ‘Just a couple of texts asking how Mara is but not responding to me when I suggest we meet up. He sure plays hard to get better than anyone I know.’
My heart soared involuntarily. Maybe he’s losing interest!
Sam looked up quickly from George.
‘I thought it was women who were meant to be the complicated ones?’ she said.
I looked at her and shrugged. If only you knew, Sam, if only.
At one o’clock, the flat was finished, tidied within an inch of its life and smelling of fake lemon. We were super-duper pleased with ourselves. Neither of us had done that much concentrated housework in a long time, possibly ever. The next plan for the day was to grab a sandwich and eat it on the Tube on the way to the hospital.
‘Where’s the iron?’ I was on a roll – this tidy business was going to my head.
‘Jesus, I don’t know, do we have one?’
‘Haven’t you gone all girly girly on us? You should know these things now!’
‘Yes, well. I’m not sure I’m very convincing.’
‘You’re lovely the way you are, you know.’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. ‘For a troll,’ I added hastily.
Sam gave me a look I couldn’t read.
‘Fuck off,’ she said.
‘Sorry.’