Page 69 of Pyg

Alice considered her for a moment, then stood and limped to the kitchen. She poured a glass of cold water and punched two ibuprofen tablets from a blister pack. She gulped down the pills and drained the water.

“I need to lie down. You can see yourself out.” Alice limped to her bedroom and crawled between her fresh sheets. She drifted, latching onto the image of Ash’s warm brown eyes, as if they were life rafts in this maelstrom.

JEKYLL OR HYDE

SIX DAYS EARLIER

“Shit,” Alice muttered, dropping her car keys after locking the door. She bent to pick them up and, conscious of the next-to-no-clothing underneath, held her coat with one hand over her arse to stop it riding up. She dropped the keys in her bag and glanced at the time on her phone screen.Over half an hour late. She’s going to be livid. But I come bearing good news and she’ll approve of my outfit, at least.

Trying to focus on the positive, Alice pulled her small suitcase behind her and into the reception of the boutique Cotswolds hotel — one of their frequent haunts, and certainly not one she’d even dare to consider if Fran wasn’t paying. Not that Alice would’ve minded them spending the weekend holed up at her place, but Fran never seemed keen on that.

“It’s too domestic, too mundane,” she’d once said, which Alice shrugged off, but she’d never really understood how it was any different. And besides, Fran needed to get used to the idea of domesticity between them now they were planning to live together.

The young receptionist looked up from her computer and beamed. “Welcome back.” Her high ponytail bobbed like the swishing tail of a golden retriever. “Mrs Dalton checked in earlier. She said for you to go right up. It’s 201, the usual. Do you need a separate key?”

“No. Thank you.” Alice smiled at the young woman.

Standing outside room 201, Alice smoothed her hands over her coat and drew in a couple of steadying breaths before tapping the solid oak door. Fran opened it, a glass of red wine in her hand and her lips set into a firm pout.

Alice took a breath. “Sorry I’m so late, I?—”

Fran held up a hand. “Just come on in, will you?”

“I did text you to say I was with the estate agent and running late.”

Fran walked to the sideboard. Grabbing the open half-empty bottle of red, she splashed it into a glass and held it out to Alice.

“Er, thanks.”

Fran swigged the contents of her own glass and refilled it.

“Cheers.” Fran took a gulp and slouched into the wingback chair, her usual composure as awry as her legs; one was hooked over the arm, the other jiggling.

Alice stood, unsure what to do with herself as Fran surveyed her from her leather throne. This wasn’t really the seductive entrance she’d planned. And now she couldn’t really take off her coat until she’d sparked the mood. She took a tentative sip of the wine — so sour, she might as well be drinking vinegar.

“So, as I was saying, I was with the estate agent. He was really positive about my flat and thinks it’ll sell quickly in this market. His valuation was way over what I paid five years ago, so we’ll have a nice sum to put towards?—”

“Oh, Alice, I’m not interested in any of that.”

Alice tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not interested in your little flat.”

“But I thought we were going to…”

Fran frowned and swished the crimson liquid around her glass.

“Fran, you can’t seriously be this angry with me because I’m a little late.”

“No. I’m angry with you because you expect me to upheave my life to fit in with you.”

What the fuck is happening?Alice placed the glass down, not wanting to swallow any more of that shit as well. “You leaving Jeremy wasyouridea. Us getting a place together was somethingyousuggested. If you don’t want to do that any more, that’s your choice, but we need to have a conversation about what we’re doing here.” She drew an invisible line between them with her finger, surprised by how calm she sounded considering the panic sirens screaming inside her head.

Fran shifted in the chair and glanced up. With a sigh, she rose to her feet and stepped towards Alice.

“I care about you deeply. I don’t want to lose you.” She traced a finger under the lapel of Alice’s trench coat.

Alice frowned. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

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