Page 16 of No Safe Place
Her eyes went to the sprawling devil’s ivy, hanging in a macramé sling. A gift from Callum, years ago, that had slowly taken over one sunny corner of the room.
Scott moved the bric-a-brac on her shelves aside and pulled out a big book of brutalist architecture, picked up on the Southbank years ago.
‘I could always just take the essentials to yours.’ Lily flopped back onto the bed. ‘Cal won’t mind me storing some stuff here.’
‘Or maybe you should be ruthless, babe. Although we both know how hard you find it—’ He flipped through the pages, and then paused, peering closely at a photograph of the Barbican centre. ‘Letting go of things.’
Chapter 8
Wednesday | Afternoon
Lily
Lily went to the kitchen to make Scott’s toast, and bumped into Cal.
He was constructing an elaborate sandwich, his back to her. Lily stared at the back of his head. He’d buzzed his hair short last week. Lily quite liked it. The buzzcut owned his slight baldness, where the brushed-forwards flyaway mop apologised for it.
He’d been receding since he was twenty-four, his hairline deteriorating at roughly the same rate as their relationship.
‘All right?’ Cal asked, without turning round.
He’d lost more weight.
Scott was right. It was going to be hard letting Cal go.
‘Not bad. Still feel sick-y.’ She leaned against the counter, still talking to Callum’s back. ‘Are you going to get some writing done today?’
He ignored her. ‘Loverboy here, is he?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, demurely, opening the cupboard above the toaster. Her Hovis was half-undone and upside down, confirming the suspicion that Callum was using her bread. The only thing that irritated her more was when he borrowed her leftie scissors, and took them to his room.
She took two slices from the packet and dropped them into the toaster.
‘I don’t know why he has to stay here so often.’ Callum turned to face her, dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and they hung loose on him.
Before she could answer, a sharp stabbing pain in her abdomen made her gasp, a hand going to her side. Callum frowned but didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, the pain ebbed away, and Lily straightened up.
‘He was on a night shift.’ She shut the cupboard door with more force than she meant to, and Cal smirked. ‘And ours is closer to the hospital.’
Cal lifted the uncut sandwich in one hand and took a bite.
‘If it bothers you, I can always move out.’ She let the challenge hang in the air.
‘Scott’s welcome here any time,’ he said, sweetly, through a mouthful of ham.
They both jumped at the knock on the front door.
‘Shit.’ A large drop of mayonnaise had escaped the sandwich and was dripping down his chest, a white parody of a Halloween stab wound, right above his heart.
The loud knocks on the door continued, but this time it was the pop of the toaster that made Lily jump. Her stomach gave another painful clench.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she muttered, mentally shaking herself and heading for the hall. ‘Yes, I’m coming.’
She rattled the handle, but it was locked.
They had an old-fashioned door you needed the keys toopen. Lily riffled through the junk on the dresser, hunting for them. Broken scissors, chocolate wrappers. A thick wad of pizza and burger leaflets made a break for it, cascading to the floor.
Her keys fell with them, and she snatched them up. If there was ever a fire they’d burn to death.
