Page 58 of One Summer

‘Seems a bit try-hard, somehow. Misleading at best…’

‘It’s just really soft,’ he says. ‘I don’t care how clothes look or what they say, as long as they feel right… I can’t stand it when you can feel the seams.’

‘You’re hyper-sensitive?’ I ask, which comes out more snidely than I intend.

He shrugs. ‘Maybe I am.’

‘And I suppose you wear those seamless socks, the ones specially woven like a cocoon?’

He flushes deep red, and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. I only know about those socks because Henny buys them at eight pounds a pair and swears by them, but I feel a bit bad for bringing it up when it obviously makes him uncomfortable.

‘Do you want a cup of tea or something, while you’re here? I’m not touching that soup.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were my next-door neighbour? Seems weird that you wouldn’t mention it.’

‘I didn’t think you’d last more than a couple of days.’

Offensive.

‘I’m going to be here for six months, as per the terms of my agreement.’

He shrugs. ‘The kitchen’s this way.’

He walks ahead of me in his Yale sweatshirt, and I almost turn and leave, but the only thing waiting for me back in my house is some dying fleas, a family of blowflies and three racks of hungry snakes. Oh, and two furry mortal enemies.

‘Fine,’ I say, hooking my parka on his hatstand. Let him see me in my penguin pyjamas. It’s not as if I care about his opinion of my sleepwear.

He’s in the middle of the kitchen holding a flowery teapot and spooning tea into it. He’s brewing a pot of tea leaves, rather than shoving a teabag in a mug.

‘Nice teapot,’ I say.

‘Nan gave it to me,’ he says. ‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk. Do you have an ice cube?’

I want to cool down my tea as fast as possible. I don’t want to sit here in silence burning my tongue as I knock back nuclear-hot tea in record time.

He takes a glass to his fridge, presses a button and it fills with ice cubes.

‘Fancy,’ I say, as he passes it to me, and he grimaces.

‘The old fridge broke so I bought a new one. I didn’t know it had that feature when I ordered it.’

‘Yes, you did,’ I say. ‘You read all the specifications at least three times.’

There’s the twitch of a smile around his mouth, but he doesn’t give in to it.

‘So why are you on Loor?’ he asks.

‘You know why. I’m the snake-sitter.’

‘Hmm…’

‘What’s with the humming?’

‘You’re not running away from something? Most people are when they come to live on Loor.’

‘No,’ I say.

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