Page 30 of One More Day
‘OK.’
‘I’ll get one of those magnetic whiteboard things and we can mark up each time whose turn it is to grab the essentials.’
She lifts an apple from the fruit bowl and crunches into it quite loudly, then talks as she chews.
‘What about sleeping arrangements? I take the sofa as offered?’
I pull out a chair from the kitchen table and sit down, poring over my list as she speaks. I’ve a pen in my hand just in case she comes up with something I’ve left out, but I think that I’ve covered everything.
‘Well, yes, I’ll get to that in just one second, but first please know overall that I’d like to respect your personal space and in return, I’d like you to respect mine,’ I reply. ‘Now, what time do you usually eat dinner?’
‘Gosh, I’m not sure.’
‘Roughly?’
She frowns in thought.
‘I tend to just eat when I’m hungry, to be honest, Charlie,’ she replies. ‘Which I know probably isn’t much help, but I’m more of a snacker than someone who sits down for a proper meal. My cooking skills aren’t my greatest asset, and that’s putting it lightly.’
‘Aroughtime, even?’
‘Er, around six? Look, I’ll stay out of your way at mealtimes best I can, I promise,’ she says, leaning on the worktop. ‘You said you’re a morning person. I’m a night owl. We’ll take turns to get basic food stuff in and we’ll communicate by text message or via your whiteboard thing. After that, I imagine the rest will fall into place. We’ll be like ships in the night in no time.’
Her eyes sparkle as she speaks. I watch her move around the kitchen, and I know I could easily enjoy getting to know her better. But that’s the opposite to why I’m here, so I’m sticking to my guns.
She throws the apple core into the pedal bin and puts her gloves back on, then begins tackling the stain on her coat again.
‘I would really like to use the hot tub but I’ll give you plenty of notice,’ she says, glancing back at me as she scrubs. ‘I can’t believe this cottage has a hot tub now. Howen vogue! I know it’s bitter cold out, but I’ve this vision of sitting beneath the stars and gazing up at the night sky. It gets so dark here at night. I think that’s the only thing I really would like to do, but I’ll write the time on the whiteboard so we don’t clash.’
I have a thing about stars too, but I won’t mention that. The last thing we need is to find things in common.
‘OK, great. Now, on to the big one. Sleeping arrangements,’ I say over her gentle humming, which she stops almost as soon as she starts, as if she’s remembered again that we’re strangers and that it’s just a tiny bit annoying. I think it might be a rather unbearable version of a well-known Christmas hymn I’ve heard before, but never in this way.
‘OK, I don’t expect to have the bedroom to myself every night, so I was thinking if you take the sofa bed again tonight, then you have the proper bed upstairs for the next two nights?’ I suggest.
She is going to scrub a hole into her coat pocket if she carries on.
‘You sure? That means a lot of changing of bedclothes,’ she says without looking back at me. ‘But yes, that sounds fair. Thank goodness one of us is organised or we’d be bumping into each other in the bedroom.’
She laughs, just a little, but I do my best to keep a straight face.
‘Apparently bicarbonate of soda is a good way to remove oil from clothing,’ I suggest as I watch her battle it out with yesterday’s unforgiving stain.
‘Bicarbonate of soda?’
‘It might be too late but it’s worth a try. Looks like an expensive coat.’
She stops and stares at the coat as if it’s almost too good to be true. Then the rubber gloves come off again.
‘Bicarbonate of soda?’
‘Yes, you know, baking soda. I remember my mother doing it once. Or was it my aunt?’ I try to recall where I’ve heard it from. ‘It works, believe me.’
She turns away again and strokes the coat like she is remembering something, or maybe a time she wore it somewhere special.
‘You’re sure?’
I search the cupboards then set a small tub of bicarbonate of soda down on the worktop beside her.
