Page 121 of Duplicity

‘You can say that again,’ Marlowe says, digging in her handbag for some cash. I know she’d go ballistic if I tried to cover the sitter, so I don’t even try. She hands over a few notes. ‘Here you go. Thanks so much for looking after her. I’ll keep a close eye on her.’

He nods and takes the cash. ‘Cheers. And I wouldn’t worry too much. Probably just a summer cold. I’m sure she’ll work through it pretty quickly.’

‘Be careful, mate,’ I tell him. ‘There are a few unsavoury characters hanging out in the entrance hall. They just tried to pull a blade on us.’

‘Take the fire escape stairs,’ Marlowe suggests. ‘It’s left out of the door, at the end of the hall. It’ll take you straight out onto the street.’

When he’s gone, Marlowe jerks her head towards the door Robbie emerged from. ‘I’m just going to…’

I follow her in. Tabby’s room is larger than I would have expected. Best guess: Marlowe gave her the biggest room. She’s probably sleeping in the shitty box room. This is definitely a haven, though. My heart aches at the effort Marlowe must have put in here. Strings of flower-shaped fairy lights cast their rose-pink glow, and in the corner is, I assume, the epic tent Athena organised.

But the real attraction lies in the middle of the room, where the little girl who’s already stolen my heart sleeps peacefully. Her blonde hair covers most of her face, and I wish I could stroke it. I remember how soft it feels. I’m glad she has this sanctuary, even if the illusion of safety in here is just that.

An illusion.

I watch as Marlowe bends to kiss her head and then I follow her out to the main living area. It’s clear she takes pride in keeping her home clean and cheery, but the colourful prints and the bunch of cheapo supermarket flowers can’t detract from the stark reality: that this is a tiny, badly constructed flat in an unsafe block in a rough neighbourhood. Marlowe doesn’t belong here.

Even if she’s not ready to step into the professional glory that could await her, she should at the very least have a life where her safety, and that of Tabby’s, is a certainty.

‘Thanks for an amazing evening,’ she says to me distractedly. ‘It meant so much to me. I’m going to hit the sack, so you can go now?—’

‘Not on your life. I’m not going anywhere. Not while those stabby little shitheads are around. I’m calling the police.’

‘You can’t call the police,’ she hisses. ‘They never give me any hassle, but you just went full alpha male on them. Of course they’re going to act out if they’re provoked. But if you call the cops it’ll raise a whole load of trouble for me and everyone else in here.’

‘They can’t get away with shit like that—holding court down there in a public space and threatening other residents.’

‘It was very clear to them that you’re not a resident,’ she argues, and I glare at her. ‘Semantics. I’m calling the fucking cops.’ I pull my phone out, and she grabs it.

‘Brendan.Don’t.I’m begging you. It’ll just make things a million times worse for me. They’ll just get a warning and then they’ll know it was us who caused trouble for them. And you’re not the one who has to walk past them every day with a kid.’

I stare at her, feeling sick. I can’t bear the idea of Tabs and Marlowe feeling scared every time they enter their own fucking building. And what about Marlowe’s parents? They must feel desperately unsafe when they come here.

‘Fine. You can move in with me. I have loads of space, and Mark will be thrilled, and you can play the piano whenever you want, and?—’

‘Bren. We’re not moving in with you. Don’t be ridiculous,’ she says, but her face is soft. ‘We’re not in a relationship. I’m your employee, and yes, you’ve been a very good friend to me andTabs these past few weeks, and we’re so grateful. But no one is moving in with anyone.’

This is crazy. I understand somewhere deep down that Marlowe is her own person and is entitled to call the shots in her own life, but it’s beyond frustrating that she refuses to listen when I so clearly know what’s best for her.

‘For someone who’s as amazing a mother as you are, you’re very cavalier about Tabby’s safety,’ I spit out. I regret the words as soon as I’ve said them. ‘I’m sorry. That was a dick move. I’m so sorry, love.’

Her eyes prick with tears, and I hate myself. My only goal this evening was to bring happiness and hope to her, and I’ve gone and ruined it by being a giant bellend.

‘I do everything I can to keep her safe and well, and you know it. But I’m a normal person with limitations on what I can provide for her. Right now, I’m prioritising her health, which, thanks to you, has turned a corner. But I’m not in a position to sweep her off to some fancy enclave in Chelsea or other places that feel like fantasy lands. I live in the real world, with dangers and shitty neighbours. Like everyone else, I just have to suck it up and do my best and hope the universe doesn’t hate me enough to throw a mugging onto the shit show I’m already dealing with.’

I can’t bear it. I wish I could tug her into my arms and squeeze her as hard as I can. ‘You’re amazing. You’re doing amazing, and I’m an entitled prick. But it fucking kills me to see you living like this when you work so hard and deserve so much.’And when I could give you the moon if you let me.

‘I know you mean well,’ she admits through gritted teeth. ‘Just try not to be so heavy-handed, alright? My life is not your problem.’

My life is not your problem.Truer and more devastating words were never spoken.

‘You can say that, but those guys downstairs might come up and make trouble for you, and this front door of yours is a fucking joke. I’m staying here tonight.’

Her jaw drops in horror. ‘Not on your life. Don’t you try to pull that card. I wasn’t born yesterday.’

‘I’m not trying to get into your knickers, love. This isn’t some sleazy ploy. I’ll sleep on the sofa.’

We both look at the sofa, which is a modest two-seater and a good foot or two shorter than me.

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