The Keeper of Lost Things(35)

“Shit! Bugger! Bollocks! Stupid sodding glass!” she addressed the sharp fragments, which sparkled in the firelight. “Stay there broken, then. See if I care!”

She wandered her way unsteadily back to the kitchen and found another glass. As she worked her way through the rest of the bottle, she stared into the flames wondering what the hell she’d been playing at.

Horribly drunk, and exhausted by sobbing and hiccuping, Laura fell asleep on the sofa, her tear-swollen face buried in her beautiful, newly burnished hair.





CHAPTER 24


She slept for roughly ten hours, but when she woke, she looked like she’d been sleeping rough for several weeks. The thudding inside her head was soon echoed by a sharp tapping on the glass of the French windows. With considerable effort, Laura raised herself up just enough to see who it was that was making her already abominable headache even worse. Freddy. By the time she had struggled to a sitting position, he was standing over her, stony-faced, holding a mug of steaming black coffee. Laura clutched her dressing gown tightly around her aching body as Freddy registered the two wineglasses, the empty bottles, and Laura’s state of dishevelment.

“I see your date went well.” His tone was just a little more clipped than usual.

Laura took the coffee from him and muttered something unintelligible.

“Sunshine said that you were going out with your boyfriend.”

Laura sipped her coffee and shuddered.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she rasped.

Freddy raised his eyebrows at her.

“Well, it looks as though things got pretty friendly to me.”

Laura’s eyes filled with tears but her belly filled with anger.

“What the hell’s it got to do with you anyway?” she snapped.

Freddy shrugged. “You’re right. It’s none of my business.”

He turned to go. “And thanks for the coffee, Fred,” he muttered.

“Oh, bugger off!” Laura replied, just about under her breath.

She took another sip from her mug. Why in God’s name had she told Sunshine about her date?

Laura could feel the warning rush of saliva in her mouth. She knew she wouldn’t make it to the bathroom, but it would be rude not to try. Halfway across the parquet floor she was sick. Very sick. As she stood cold and miserable with vomit-splashed legs, and still clutching the mug of coffee, she was glad that, at least, she’d missed the Persian rug.

An hour later, having cleared up the mess, been sick twice more, stood under the shower for ten minutes, and dragged on some clothes, Laura sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea and staring at a piece of dry toast. Her date had ended in disaster. The memory of Graham’s tongue squirming lethargically in her mouth like the death throes of a particularly wet slug brought her out in cold sweat. Well, that and the aftermath of two bottles of fizz. How could she have been such a fool? The sound of the doorbell pierced her mournful reverie. Sunshine. Oh God, no. Please not today, she thought. There would be endless questions about last night and she just couldn’t face it. She hid in the pantry. Sunshine would eventually come round to the back door if her ringing was unanswered, and if Laura stayed where she was, slumped at the table, Sunshine would see her. The ringing continued; patient and persistent, and then the back door opened and Freddy walked in.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Laura frantically shushed him and beckoned him over to the pantry. Even such a slight activity caused her temples to throb. She held on to one of the shelves loaded with ancient jars of pickles to steady herself.

“God, you look rough,” said Freddy helpfully. Again Laura put her finger to her lips.

“What?” He was beginning to lose his patience.

Laura sighed.

“Sunshine’s at the front door and I really can’t face her today. I know you probably think I’m being pathetic, but I just can’t cope with all her questions. Not today.”

Freddy shook his head scornfully.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic. I think it’s just plain mean. You’re a grown woman hiding in a cupboard from a young girl who thinks you’re great and loves your company, just because you’ve got a stonking and probably well-deserved hangover. At least have the guts to go and make your excuses to her face!”

Freddy’s words stung like nettles on bare flesh, but before Laura could reply, the mood at the front door suddenly turned nasty.

Sunshine had no idea who the blond woman was marching up the path, but she looked pretty cross.

“Hello, I’m Sunshine. I’m the friend to Laura. Who are you?”

The woman narrowed her eyes as she looked Sunshine up and down, trying to decide whether or not she was obliged to answer.

“Is Freddo here?” she demanded.

“Nope,” said Sunshine.

“Are you sure? Because that’s his fucking Land Rover on the drive.”

Sunshine watched with interest as the woman grew redder and crosser and began jabbing the doorbell with her immaculately manicured finger.

“That’s Freddy’s fucking Land Rover,” Sunshine replied calmly.

“So he is here, then, the arsing arsehole!” the woman spat.

She jabbed at the doorbell again, and banged on the door with her fist.

“She won’t answer,” said Sunshine. “She’s probably hiding.”