Page 65 of Behind Frenemy Lines

But I didn’t need to say that. Kriya wasn’t stupid. On some level, she must know she was heading for a collision.

Kriya: “I’m going to get dressed. Have you got everything you need?” She jumped up and started taking things out of the cupboard. “I’ve got oats, muesli, Koko Krunch… There’s bread in the freezer if you’d like toast. Butter’s in the fridge. Or would you like peanut butter?”

Was going to say, automatically, that it was fine, but realised I was actually pretty hungry. Had forgotten to have dinner the night before. “Muesli’s good. I’ll help myself. Thanks.”

Was working my way through the bowl of muesli when there was a loud rapping at the door. Glanced around for Kriya, but the bathroom door was shut. Could hear the buzzing of an electric toothbrush through it.

A voice called through the front door:

“Hello? Kriya?”

Went to the door and looked through the peephole. Two women outside, both some variety of Asian and laden down with shopping bags. One was wearing big spectacles and yellow dungarees. The other was wearing a baby.

Opened the door. “Can I help you?”

They gaped at me.

The one with the baby said: “Oh my gosh, sorry! We thought this was Flat 57.”

CG: “It is Flat 57. Are you looking for Kriya?”

Kriya emerged from the bathroom, in jeans and a silky green top. She was putting earrings on—pretty dangly gold ones, with green stones.

Kriya: “Eh, what are you guys doing here? I thought we said brunch?”

Yellow dungarees: “Yeah, we said brunch. Nine a.m. Baby has to be back in his cot for his nap by eleven, or May Yin won’t get to sleep tonight.” She pointed at me. “Who’s this guy?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Kriya

It turned outthere were damn a lot of messages in the group chat that I hadn’t read. Everyone had agreed they’d show up before nine a.m. to help make the nasi lemak, so May Yin could eat and get back home in good time for the baby’s nap. Only Esther had overslept: she was on the Tube and would be turning up around ten a.m., in time to eat but not to cook.

“When did you send these?” I said, scrolling through my WhatsApp backlog.

Zuri was unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out ingredients for our early brunch on the kitchen counter, while May Yin fed her baby.

“Don’t know,” said Zuri. “Last night. Why weren’t you checking your phone? What were you doing—?”

She cut herself off. She and May Yin looked from me to Charles, wide-eyed.

“I wasworking,” I said. “We had a late night.” I realised how that must sound. “At the office.” I cleared my throat. “Charles is having issues with his flat, so I offered him my sofa bed.”

At least the sofa bed was still out, evidence of our chastity.

“Let me put this away,” I said. “I’ll put the yoga mat down. Then Ethan can have a play on the floor.”

Charles had been hanging back, looking like he was wishing he was well out of it. But he came and helped me with the sofa bed.

“I’m Zurina,” said Zuri to Charles. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“This is Charles,” I said. To Charles, I said, across the expanse of sofa cushions: “Zuri and May Yin and I went to uni together. We met organising Malaysia Night. Zuri’s a book publicist. May Yin’s at Deloitte, but she’s on leave right now. Oh, she’s in tax, you have something in common there. Charles did a seat in Tax Law when he was a trainee,” I added to the girls.

“Charles,” said May Yin slowly, but it was Zuri who said:

“Wait. This isKawan Baik?”

I could practically hear the whirring in Zuri and May Yin’s heads. Charles looked polite and uncomprehending.

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