I raised my hands. ‘I can’t move out. I’ve got nowhere else to go. Not from here, remember.’
‘Oh, I remember.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I recoiled.
Liam held his hands up in defence. His eyes danced with humour. ‘It’s hard to forget with that accent you’ve got, that’s all.’
‘Don’t do that.’ I gestured with my finger.
‘What?’ Liam’s eyes widened in mock innocence.
‘Act like I’m going all she-hulk on you. I’m not.’
‘You can go she-hulk on me. I can take it,’ Liam said cockily. My cheeks warmed, and I wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face.
‘Can’t you stay at Lydia’s?’
I shook my head. ‘It’s a tiny one-bed. She also complained about the landlord not sorting the mould in the bathroom. I doubt another person showering would help with the black mould.’
‘She should have told me,’ Liam grumbled. ‘Her landlord is useless.’
I ran my hand through my hair, panic rising. ‘I can’t stay with Lydia, and I can’t afford an Airbnb either. Fuck.’ Liam watched my hands as I ran them through my hair again. ‘This is a disaster.’
‘Brian and Sandra have space.’
The prospect of looking at my uncle’s face every day and being reminded of my dad made me feel a bit sick. Plus, the funeral fiasco was still hanging over my head. Just thinking about it sent my nervous system wild.
No. I couldn’t stay with them. They barely knew me. After two days, they’d get sick of me, and I’d have even less family.
A new idea was growing in my brain, fresh and green.
‘How long?’ I asked.
‘Probably about four weeks, as long as there are no delays.’ Liam shrugged.
I nodded. ‘I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yep. Just another obstacle, nothing major.’ I smiled.
Liam looked at me for a moment or two, his gaze searching. I did my best to look as neutral as I could.
Finally, his eyes narrowed. ‘You’re up to something, Red.’
‘No, I’m not!’ I protested.
Liam hummed and gestured to his eyes and mine with his two fingers.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Are you usually this dramatic?’
Liam laughed. ‘Me. Dramatic. Funny.’
Then I spotted it. On the remaining plaster. There were some pencil drawings.
‘What’s that?’ I leaned in closer.
‘Must have been written on the plaster when that last person decorated,’ Liam said as he carefully peeled off the wallpaper to reveal more words.