door. I know you’re in there.”
Marc pushed his chair a few inches away from the table, wincing as the legs screeched across the cheap laminated floor covering. He stood and turned towards the back door. “Maybe I should go.”
“No,” said Abby. “No, it’s okay. I’ll deal with this. You just sit down and have another cup of coffee.” She reached for the kettle and flicked the switch to set the water to boil again. “I won’t be a minute.” She moved quickly across the room, closing the door on her way out. The edge of the door bounced when it hit the frame, opening again, but just a couple of inches. He moved across the front of the table, positioning himself so that he could see through the gap. He watched Abby’s white-gowned figure as she approached the door. She smoothed the gown across her hips, flicked her head to shift the hair from out of her eyes, and opened the front door.
Marc couldn’t quite see the man clearly. The doorstep was set down lower than the hallway floor, and Abby’s thin body further obscured his view. They spoke quietly. The man must not be annoyed after all. Perhaps he was merely concerned. Abby glanced over her shoulder a couple of times, as if she were talking about him. The man attempted to manoeuvre his way past her and through the doorway, but she angled her body to block him.
“Come back later,” he heard her say. “I’m busy.”
“Who’s in there?” The man’s head, with his close-cropped hair, bobbed up and down, back and forth, trying to see past her and into the house. He had a thick neck. He wasn’t tall, but he was broad through the shoulders.
Marc jumped in shock when the kettle clicked off. He turned and watched the steam as it rose in a smooth line from the spout. He walked over and made himself another cup of instant. His hands were shaking. Behind him, the door slammed shut. Footsteps padded along the hallway, towards the kitchen door.
Let her be alone, he thought. I don’t want any trouble.
When he turned to face the door, she entered the room and sat down at the table. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying, or fighting tears. Her face was white but there were pink streaks on her cheeks.
“Are you... are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She looked up, trying to smile, but it didn’t quite work. “I’m fine.”
“Who was that?” He wished he hadn’t asked, but the reporter’s instinct never let him down: he always, always asked the questions that came into his head, as if he did not possess a mental cut-off switch.
“Just an ex-boyfriend... He pesters me sometimes, wants me to have him back.”
“Oh.” He blew on his coffee. Suddenly he didn’t want the drink.
“Listen, I’m sorry but that bastard’s upset me. Can you go?”
He put the mug down on the work bench and stepped away. Suddenly he didn’t know what to do with his empty hands. “Yes, I’ll go. Give you a bit of peace.”
“Thank you,” she said, as if she really meant it.
“Can I have your number?” Again, he wished he’d never asked.
She stared at him, her eyes boring into his, her lips parting slightly. “Are you sure? Are you really sure you want it?” She was challenging him, making him prove that he was man enough.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
She nodded. There was a fruit bowl in the centre of the table. As far as he could tell, it contained nothing but a couple of apples and several dried-out tangerines. She reached into it and withdrew a stubby little betting shop pen, then wrote down her number on a slip of paper she produced from her dressing gown pocket – as if she’d been carrying it around with her for this exact moment.
Marc stepped forward and held out his hand.
She placed the folded paper on his palm. “Give me a call,” she said. “But remember what I said.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t try to save you.” He could see by the look in her eyes that she didn’t believe him, but she was willing to give him a chance.
“I’ll call you a taxi,” she said, standing. Her dressing gown gaped below the waist, flashing her narrow thighs, the unkempt patch between her legs. Marc felt himself grow hard again.
He gritted his teeth. “No thanks. My car’s parked near the Unicorn. I can walk over and get it.”
“Whatever,” said Abby, and turned away.
They stood in the hallway, standing with