Page 60 of Tricky Girls

I shake my head at that untruth. The only home I knew was between the ages of eight and ten and that was in the form of a person. And that person wasn’t my mum.

I know she mourns that home too. She tells me often enough. It was me who wrecked it, after all.

‘If he’s there, I won’t be,’ I repeat.

‘Maybe I’ll see you in the new year then.’

The line goes dead. I toss my phone onto the floor, uncaring when it misses the bath mat and clacks on the tiles.

I slip beneath the surface of the water, needing to drown this awful, twisty, crawly feeling that arises each and every time I speak to that woman. My fingers drift to my thigh, nails picking at the still-healing wounds, the agitation leaching away like water down a plug hole.

I come up for air briefly before sinking back under. The world’s calmer under here. Muffled and soft. It’s nice… I might stay here a while.

Haz

As soon as I’m inside, I rip off my tank and toss it onto the sofa, leaving me in only my sports bra. ‘Fuck, I reek.’

‘And I smell like daisies,’ Elly says.

‘Yeah, because you did fuck all as usual. Never gonna get these beauties with that work ethic.’ I flex my arm that’s still shiny from sweat from the jog home from the gym. ‘Don’t know why you bother coming at all to be honest.’

‘Because you’d be lonely without me.’

I grunt because she’s not wrong. She’s as integral to my gym sessions as my water bottle.

‘Right, well I’m off for a shower.’ I pluck my tank from the sofa, knowing Nic will have my ass if I leave it there. ‘Start with dinner, will you, wifey?’

‘Of course, dear. You put your feet up.’

I take the stairs two at a time, grabbing my towel from my room before making a quick stop at Tilda’s. Empty. I peer round, seeing her stuff still strewn about. It’s become a bit of a daily dread, the thought of returning to see all her things gone, packed off back to halls. I’m sure she’d let us know first, but there’s no telling how that slimy ex-boyfriend of hers might twist her arm.

Slinging my towel over my shoulder, I enter the bathroom, faltering for a moment at the sight of the bath full to the brim with bubbles. The room’s foggy with steam, the air smelling like sickly sweet vape liquid.

Then I spot skin between the bubbles, Tilda’s hair darkened to black by the water.

She’s like fucking Ophelia, the sight causing my heart to jackhammer.

Dunking my hand into the water, I grab at any bit of her I can.

She sits up, palming water off her face, makeup running. ‘Oh, hey. You’re back.’

‘Tilda, baby.’ I put a hand on my chest, breathing out a harsh breath. ‘Don’t fucking do that.’

She smirks, rearranging the bubbles to cover all her important bits. ‘Thought I’d topped myself? In a drowning way?’

‘You were doing a pretty good impression. Didn’t tell me you were half fish.’

She carries on smiling, the silence of the room reminding me she’s full on naked under those bubbles.

‘Came to use the shower,’ I say uselessly, plucking at the towel on my shoulder.

Tilda glances down at the water, running a gentle hand along its surface. ‘Pretty big tub.’

She’s joking, obviously. She’s a top-class fucking joker. But like I said before, I know how to take advantage of an opportunity when it’s dangling in front of me.

I strip off my joggers, dropping my towel on top of them. Tilda’s still looking down when I step into the water but very quickly snaps her head up.

‘Woooah,naked here.’

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