Page 45 of One More Day
‘You can come up here and get your belongings, Rose,’ I call down the stairs, having decided that it would be very inappropriate for me to touch a stranger’s underwear, even if my dog has just had it in his mouth. ‘Rose?’
‘My belongings? Can’t you bring it down with you?’ she shouts back at me. ‘It’s only a bra, Charlie, it won’t burn you.’
She is finding this highly amusing, which I admit is better than her going crazy over it. I know that in a few minutes I probably will find it amusing too, but I’ve tried hard to establish strict boundaries, and this is about as far from them as I could have imagined.
I bend down and pick up the bra with two fingers, holding it at arm’s length and trying not to look at it too closely, but as I walk down the stairs my eyes divert towards it as if they’ve a mind of their own.
It’s a rather fetching colour, I must admit. It’s made of lace and mesh … and I should really stop looking at it. Rose has a unique look with how she dresses and presents herself, so I’m not surprised at her glamorous choice of underwear.
What am I even doing? Why am I even thinking about this?
‘Sorry about that,’ I say when I eventually reach the kitchen after what feels like a marathon walk.
I reach out without meeting her eyes and maybe I’m imagining it, but I do believe she deliberately takes her time to reclaim the bra from me, as if she is enjoying my humiliation.
‘You’re such a rascal, Max!’ Rose says to my dog, who now is willing to show his face again. Her attention only makes him want to play more, and then George joins in.
I feel my cheeks flush, but then her mood changes like the flick of a switch and her face turns to horror. She sniffs the bra and holds it out in disgust.
‘Well, this is going to need a wash,’ she says, horrified. ‘He’s peed on it.’
Max senses trouble as he runs under the kitchen table and George barks in support of his owner.
‘If it’s ruined, I’ll reimburse you in full,’ I shout over the renewed bedlam. ‘Just send me the bill.’
She shakes her head and blows out some steam.
‘Would you like the bill sent by text message?’
‘Sure. That’s how I roll.’
I don’t know what else to say. Rose opens the washing machine door and throws in the soiled bra, then slams the door shut and mutters to herself as she adds detergent to the top drawer, then selects a delicate wash. Delicate, indeed. I quietly call Max with a light whistle and we are just about to make our escape upstairs, both very sheepish and embarrassed, when Rose calls me.
‘Charlie, can you come back down a second?’ she asks.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask ‘what now?’ but I remember I’m already on the back foot, so I return to the kitchen.
‘Yes?’
‘I have … I have a confession to make, and I think now is a good time to come clean.’
Oh.
‘Really?’ I have no idea where this is going.
‘Yes, really,’ she says. She licks her lips and stands up tall. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t going to tell you at all until tomorrow, but now thatyourdog has probably ruined a very expensive item of mine, I may as well come clean aboutmydog. And it’s too much to explain in a stupid text message or whiteboard note.’
‘Go on.’
She takes a deep breath and just goes for it.
‘Yesterday while I was caught up in making the decorations, George made his way up to the bedroom.’
‘And … ?’
‘And I’m so sorry but … well, he made mincemeat of your book.’
‘What?’
