Page 78 of Not in a Million Years

I said, ‘I should get home. See how things are with the Airbnb guests.’

‘Suit yourself.’

‘Thanks for letting me stay. And message me when Andy gets back safely, okay?’

Daniel nodded, turning back to his work as if I’d already left.

So I did leave. I walked the length of the workshop, breathing in the smells of wood and varnish and wax. I pulled open the door to Daniel’s flat and smelled coffee and the staleness of the cigarettes Andy must have smoked last night, and the lemon sharpness of Daniel’s shampoo.

Then I let myself out and walked slowly to catch the bus home.

Twenty-Nine

I barely bothered to attempt sleep that night, even though Daniel’s message saying Andy was safely home had put my mind at rest on that score. As soon as the karaoke machine next door started up at half past nine, I climbed wearily out of bed and headed for the kitchen. I baked a coffee and walnut cake and put it on a wire rack to cool while I made a batch of tahini and halva brownies. Then I made a buttercream for the cake and iced it. I made cheese scones and lemon iced buns.

At three in the morning, I was contemplating starting a Sachertorte but realised that the elderly people who attended Mona’s drop-in coffee mornings would only be able to cope with so many baked goods, and I didn’t want to be the one responsible for the whole lot of them developing type II diabetes. So I cleaned the kitchen and went to bed, bone tired, the music stopping just as I put my earplugs in and the first dawn light began to brighten the sky outside my window.

Mona tutted when she saw me. ‘Oh my days! Another bad night? You look like a ghost, my dear. And I haven’t seen you for the longest time – I’ve been having to buy cakes at the Tesco Express and the guests haven’t been best pleased. They say there’s no substitute for home baking.’

‘It’s feast or famine for them, I’m afraid,’ I said. ‘I was away for a couple of weeks, but now I’m back and it looks like my neighbour’s flat is being used as an Airbnb and it’s hen party central, so your guests are going to be doing well out of me.’

Mona prised the lids off the tins and Tupperwares and inspected the contents. ‘Delicious – but there’s enough here for a Macmillan coffee morning. You’re not planning to keep this up, are you?’

‘It’s not really sustainable,’ I admitted. ‘And I’m starting a new job next week, so something’s going to have to give. I can’t turn up on my first day after two hours’ sleep, smelling of chocolate.’

‘Is there nowhere else you can stay while it gets sorted out? You need to look after your health, you know, Kate.’

‘I know. I’m hoping eventually I’ll get so tired I’ll just sleep through whatever they get up to, but there’s no sign of it happening yet. I could book myself into a hotel or something, I suppose.’

I thought longingly of an air-conditioned, soundproofed Premier Inn room, with sheets that had been washed by someone else and all the bacon and eggs I could eat in the morning. And then I remembered my sadly depleted bank balance and realised that wasn’t exactly sustainable either.

I could throw myself on the mercy of my friends. But Rowan was in the process of moving out of the two-bedroom flat she shared with her daughter and into the house she’d found with her boyfriend, and was surrounded by the stressful chaos of packing boxes and bubble wrap. Abbie and Matt were heading off on holiday, and Naomi’s three-year-old twins slept even worse at night than I did.

And then I thought longingly of Daniel’s wide, comfortable sofa, where I’d slept so blissfully the night before last. I remembered the firm pillow under my head, smelling of his shampoo; the duvet that had been tenderly placed over me during the night; the delicious fragrance of coffee the next morning. Admittedly, I’d had a fair bit to drink, but it had been a magnificent sleep – the sleep of the gods.

And I really ought to see how Andy was doing, anyway.

I took my leave of Mona and got on a bus, making the now familiar journey south-east to Peckham. I should really have called or texted before heading over there, but my mind was too foggy with tiredness to compose any words. If he wasn’t in, I’d just go home, I promised myself.

But Daniel was in. He opened the door a few seconds after my knock, the mask he wore for his woodworking hanging off one ear, his hair mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it, the sleeves of his overall apparently hastily pulled over his shoulders, because the front was open to expose his tanned, muscly torso.

The sight of him made a jolt of desire pulse through me, and I wished I’d bothered to put on some make-up before leaving home, or at least worn something more attractive than the faded denim shirt dress and trainers I had on.

His face broke into a smile when he saw me, and I felt a weird melting sensation inside me, like buttercream frosting when you spread it on a too-warm cake.

‘Kate. This is unexpected.’

‘I just popped round to see how you and Andy were doing.’

‘I’m all good. He’s out – gone to see a movie, apparently.’

Our eyes met and I knew we were thinking the same thing. ‘Going to see a movie’ could mean just that – or it could mean something completely different.

‘Really? Why didn’t you go with him?’

‘Why didn’t you go with him to his meeting?’

‘I tried. I offered to go and meet his sponsor with him, or at least go with him as far as the bus, but—’

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