The House Guest - Mark Edwards Page 0,17

taste tequila and, once again, I swore my relationship with that drink, perhaps all alcohol, was over for good. Groaning, I put on a T-shirt and yesterday’s jeans, then left the bedroom. I needed to find my phone so I could at least see what time it was.

Eden’s door was still shut. I assumed Ruth had gone to her rehearsal; I couldn’t imagine her missing it. No matter how hungover she was – and I hoped for her sake she didn’t feel anything like me – she wouldn’t risk incurring Sally’s wrath.

The walk down the stairs made me realise my hangover was far from gone – every step made my brain shake – and when I saw the state of the living room, I wanted to go straight back up to bed. The remains of our Japanese meal were congealing where we’d left them, with a bunch of flies buzzing above the cartons. Noodles hung off the edge of the table, a little pile of them gathered on the wooden floor like worms having a party. A container of dark-coloured sauce had tipped over on the sofa, as had the unfinished second tequila bottle. Books had been pulled from the shelves and scattered across the floor, and there were orange smears on the vintage jukebox, as if someone had sprayed sauce over it. On top of the mess, the room was stiflingly hot and fetid, filled with the stench of last night’s food and booze.

The kitchen was almost as bad. There were muddy footprints on the floor – presumably from when Ruth and Eden had come in from dancing in the garden – and the bins were overflowing. The sink was full of dishes. The food cupboards were open and looked like they’d been ransacked by sugar-crazed kids. To my horror, I saw that the freezer door had been left ajar and a tub of ice cream had melted and oozed out on to the floor beneath.

I was ashamed. This wasn’t our place and we had no right to treat it like this. What would Jack and Mona—

Oh Jesus. Assuming I hadn’t been asleep for more than twenty-four hours, today was Saturday. The Cunninghams were due home tomorrow.

I couldn’t think about that. Not yet. I finally found my phone, lying on the kitchen counter, and was stunned to see it was seven fifteen in the evening.

I’d been asleep all day.

My phone was nearly dead, so I plugged it into its charger and, after filling a glass with water, sat down on one of the kitchen stools.

Something had happened last night. Something I couldn’t remember. I held on to the breakfast bar and waited for it to hit me, in that way that embarrassing memories always do after a drunken night.

Nothing came. Just a chilling sense of disquiet.

I tried to peer back through the fog in my brain. I remembered sitting on the chair, the two women on the sofa. I remembered Eden telling us something. A story.

A spasm of nausea hit me and I doubled over, just managing to stop myself from throwing up.

Eden had told us something last night. A secret.

Something about a friend of hers . . . a girl who had died. Or disappeared? It was unclear. I remembered Eden getting upset. We had all hugged, hadn’t we? I had a vague recollection that my stomach had hurt.

And then nothing.

I had no memory of going upstairs or getting undressed. As I thought this, I saw that the clothes I’d been wearing the night before were in a bundle on the living room floor. So I’d gone upstairs naked?

Oh God, what had happened?

The sight of the mess made me remember Jack and Mona’s impending return again. I got up and checked the noticeboard, where details of their flight home were pinned up. They were scheduled to leave Albuquerque airport at midnight. The plane would land at 6 a.m., New York time. I figured it would take them another hour or two to get through JFK and back here. That gave us twelve hours to clean up.

With three of us, that would be fine.

It was seven thirty. Ruth would usually be home by now. Had she been planning to go out tonight with the cast? I couldn’t remember. Maybe Eden would know. Eden who, I assumed, was still sleeping off her hangover.

I got up, still a little wobbly, and went upstairs. I knocked lightly on Eden’s door. There was no response so I knocked harder.

‘Eden,’ I called through the