Cock & Bull - Laura Barnard Page 0,45

shit in bed?’

She snorts a laugh. ‘You’re not bad in bed. Garry was just a moron. He was never good enough for you.’

‘Oh and Clooney is?’ I raise my eyebrows.

Her face lights up in mischief. ‘Isn’t the risk worth it for him?’

She takes a biscuit out of her dressing gown pocket. Trust her to have a biscuit for breakfast.

‘Do… you fancy him?’ I can’t resist asking.

This has been nagging at me for a while. I suppose I know in my heart of hearts that if she does, I don’t stand a chance. She’s always been the prettier, funnier sister.

She dips her biscuit in her tea. ‘Nah, I prefer them blonde. Plus, you two have this whole vibe going on.’

‘We do not have a vibe going on.’ I can’t help but feel a little glimmer of hope blossom in the pint of my stomach. I’m so girly and giggly at just the mention of him.

She grins, popping the biscuit in her mouth. ‘You know you do,’ she mumbles, her mouth full. ‘You almost kissed the other day. I think he’s into you.’

I shake my head. ‘He’s into anyone with a vagina. Don’t think for one minute that I’m special.’

She smiles, as if hiding a secret. ‘Whatever you say.’

For some reason I find myself rushing around getting breakfast, wanting to go back to hiding in my bedroom before he gets back from his run. I don’t know why, but I’m nervous. I know it’s dumb, but my body didn’t get the memo from my brain.

He walks in, sweat dripping down his forehead, his t-shirt clinging to his broad chest. Damn, why does he insist on looking so sexy? It’s as annoying as hell.

‘Hey Pheebs,’ he jokes, accentuating the nickname.

‘Hi Cloo,’ I joke back.

He smirks, like he finds me hilariously amusing. Not in a ha ha funny way, more a isn’t she cute like a bunny rabbit way.

‘That was a quick run.’ God, why did I have to mention that? I butter my toast so I don’t have to look at him.

‘I didn’t realise you were timing me.’

I chance a quick look at him. He’s smiling, like he’s got me all figured out. I hate that he assumes everyone fancies him. I hate that its true.

‘All calmed down after last night?’ he asks with a wide toothy smile.

‘Yes,’ I snap, cutting into my toast a little too hard. ‘Although some would argue that I had every right to be upset.’

‘Some would also be drama queens.’

I swallow, hating that I made such a show of myself last night.

‘Anyway, I have to get going and get ready for work.’

‘Yep. I bet those dead people are hard work. Maybe even rigid.’

I bark a laugh, despite wanting to stay cool. Jesus, I’ve got it bad. Laughing about a dead person joke. My cheeks burn, my body cringing at myself. Stop acting like an idiot, Phoebe.

His phone rings, apparently on a better network than us. ‘Sorry.’ He takes it and moves to outside the back door.

I can’t help but listen in. Apparently, I’m obsessed with him now.

‘Yeah. It’s on at 2.30 p.m. Blue Ridge. Yeah, it’s a sure thing. Put me down for fifty.’

What is he talking about? Not that I have time to ask. I’ve got to get to ready for work. I might as well turn up early. It’s better than staying here embarrassing myself. I just hope to God I don’t hear any voices.

I put on a brave face in front of Patricia, Seamus’ wife. Luckily I don’t seem to be hearing any voices today. Seamus and Niall are out doing funerals. Apparently I can’t be trusted with them.

Around two o’clock she realises she’s worked through lunch so I offer to watch the shop while she pops out to get something.

About fifteen minutes after she’s gone, a teary middle-aged widow walks in, clutching at her tissue.

‘Hi, can I help you?’ I ask, using my friendly but sympathetic voice I’ve managed to master while working here.

‘I’m here to see my Garrett laid out.’

Oh crap. I suppose I can’t act unprofessional and tell her I don’t know what I’m doing. They trained me for this the other day. I just need to go in there first, check his name bracelet and then allow her in.

‘No problem. Let me just go check everything is set up properly.’

I run in, spotting Garrett in his coffin on stilts. I stand by it and try to reach for his wrist, but with the stilts it’s too high for my short arse.