Page 72 of Not in a Million Years

‘Someone like… a boyfriend?’

I nodded, trying to look casual but feeling suddenly tense and weird inside – guilty, almost.

‘First date?’ he asked. ‘One of your Tinder dudes?’

‘Actually, no. Second. And I met him through work. I mentioned him to you when we were… Before.’

I didn’t want to remind myself – or him – of that evening by the sea in Alsaya, which already felt like about a hundred years ago.

‘Second? That’s going some, by your standards.’

‘Daniel, I don’t know if I’ve missed a memo or something, but I don’t have to justify my love life to you.’

‘I wasn’t asking you to. Just making conversation, like I said. What’s the guy’s name?’

I considered refusing to tell him, saying he needed to butt out. But what would be the point? I’d only give him the satisfaction of feeling like he’d embarrassed me – and then that silence would descend over us again, and if I had to endure that for more than about ten seconds I might scream.

‘He’s called Claude.’ Like I told you when we were in Turkey. And like I’d bet my almost-full bottle of Le Labo perfume you remember.

‘And it’s going well, is it?’

‘Seems to be. We were actually on our way back to his place when I found out about…’ I gestured vaguely with my hands. ‘All this.’

‘Poor old Claude,’ Daniel said, with a grin that didn’t look entirely sincere. ‘Thought he was in like Flynn and got packed off home with blue balls. Let me know his address – I’ll send flowers.’

Now I couldn’t help rising to his provocation. ‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous. And what the hell were you thinking, anyway, letting Andy go off on his own? Anything could have happened to him, and you’ll be responsible if it has.’

‘Oh, I will, will I? What did you expect me to do, put one of those backpacks on him with reins like toddlers have and not let him out of my sight?’

‘You should have gone with him. He’s on crutches, for Christ’s sake.’

‘And a grown-ass man, and a guest in my home, as opposed to a prisoner. And under strict instructions from his physio to stay as active as possible. He’d already started frying onion for a bloody risotto, Kate. I wasn’t to know he’d do a disappearing act in between that and chopping the garlic.’

‘I still think—’

‘You still think what? That between us, we can somehow control Andy’s life and dictate what he does? Because that worked just great before, didn’t it?’

‘Jesus, Daniel. You know perfectly well I never tried to control anyth—’

Then I stopped. We both stopped, because there was the unmistakeable sound of a key scraping at the door, fumblingly, trying and failing to find the lock.

I sprang to my feet.

‘Leave it, Kate,’ Daniel said. ‘He’s perfectly capable of letting himself in. Probably.’

I sank back onto the sofa, weak with relief but shaking with pent-up anger that had nowhere to go, feeling like the hard chair I’d been sitting on before wasn’t equal to holding me up. Moments later, Andy walked into the room.

I say walked. He was on his crutches, for one thing, so it was more a sort of three-point swing. He’d got much better at using them, I’d noticed, but it was still awkward. Especially as he couldn’t quite manage to move in a straight line. He executed a sort of parabola from the front door to the kitchen, where he deposited his keys and a small brown paper bag. Then he manoeuvred to another door and opened it. Inside, I could see a washing machine and tumble drier stacked one on top of the other, a hoover and ironing board, and shelves holding cleaning products.

‘Ooops,’ Andy said, almost as if he didn’t know we were there. ‘Mustn’t piss in the futility room.’

He veered off again, found the right door, and we heard the sound of copious urination. Then he reappeared, clocked us, and broke into his familiar megawatt smile.

‘You’re still up!’ he cried. ‘I thought I’d only been gone five minutes and then I saw the time. Flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it? But now we can all have fun together, because look what I brought.’

He snatched the brown bag off the table and tossed it over to Daniel, who caught it effortlessly, one-handed. He upended it onto his outstretched palm and I saw a small ziplock bag tip out.

‘Daniel,’ I said, ‘for God’s sake don’t! Not now.’

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