The Flatshare(100)

I turn around just in time. She piles into me, rain-wet hair, pink cheeks, big smile.

Me: Whoa!

Tiffy, very close to my ear: Leon Leon Leon!

Me: Ouch?

Tiffy: Sorry. Sorry. I just . . .

Me: Are you crying?

Tiffy: What? No.

Me: You are. You are incredible.

She blinks at me, surprised, eyes bright with happy tears.

Me: You’ve never even met Richie.

She links arms with me and spins me back to the kettle just as it boils.

Tiffy: Well, I’ve met you, and Richie’s your little brother.

Me: Just to warn you, he’s not that little.

Tiffy reaches for the mug cupboard and pulls out two, then rifles through the teabags and pours the kettle as if she’s been in and out of this kitchen for years.

Tiffy: And anyway, I feel like I know Richie. We’ve talked tons of times. You don’t have to meet face to face to know someone.

Me: Speaking of . . .

Tiffy: Where are we going?

Me: Just come on. I want to show you something.

Tiffy: Teas! Teas!

I pause and wait as she adds milk painstakingly slowly. She shoots a cheeky little glance over her shoulder; I immediately want to undress her.

Me: Are we ready?

Tiffy: OK. We’re ready.

She hands me a mug and I take it, and the hand that offered it too. Almost everyone we pass along the corridor says, ‘Oh, hi, Tiffy!’ or ‘You must be Tiffy!’ or ‘Oh my God Leon really does have a girlfriend!’ but I am in too good a mood to find it annoying.

Tug Tiffy back as she goes to open the door to Coral Ward.

Me: Wait, just look through the window.

We both lean in.

Johnny White hasn’t left his side since the weekend. Mr Prior is asleep, but still his papery, sun-blotched hand rests in Johnny White’s palm. They’ve had three whole days together – more than JW could have hoped for.

Always worth walking through those doors.

Tiffy: Johnny White the Sixth was the real Johnny White? Is this literally the best day ever? Has there been some sort of announcement issued? An elixir in everyone’s breakfast? A golden ticket in the cereal box?

I kiss her firmly on the mouth. Behind us, one of the junior doctors says to another junior doctor, ‘Amazing – I always assumed Leon didn’t like anyone who didn’t have a terminal illness!’

Me: I think it’s just a good day, Tiffy.

Tiffy: Well, I guess we are all overdue one.





73


Tiffy

‘OK, how do I look?’

‘Relax,’ Leon says, lying back on the bed, one arm behind his head. ‘Richie already loves you.’

‘I’m meeting a member of your family!’ I protest. ‘I want to look good. I want to look . . . smart and beautiful and witty, and maybe to channel a bit of Sookie in the earlier series of Gilmore Girls?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

I huff. ‘Fine. Mo!’

‘Yeah?’ Mo calls from the living room.

‘Can you tell me if this outfit makes me look cool and sophisticated or tired and mumsy, please?’

‘If you’re asking the question, lose the outfit,’ Gerty calls.

I roll my eyes. ‘I didn’t ask you! You don’t like any of my clothes anyway!’

‘That’s not true, I like some of them. Just not in the combinations you choose to adopt.’

‘You look perfect,’ Leon says, smiling up at me. His whole face looks different today, like someone flicked a switch back there that I didn’t even know about, and now everything is brighter.

‘No, Gerty’s right,’ I say, shrugging out of the wrap dress and reaching for my favourite green skinny jeans and a loose-knit jumper. ‘I’m trying too hard.’

‘You’re trying just the right amount,’ Leon tells me as I hop on one leg, pulling up the jeans.

‘Is there any statement I could say this evening that you wouldn’t automatically agree with?’

He narrows his eyes. ‘A conundrum,’ he says. ‘The answer is no, but saying that would mean I’d contradict myself.’

‘He agrees with everything I say, and he’s so clever, too!’ I crawl across the bed to straddle him and kiss him, letting my body melt against his. When I pull back to put my top on, he protests, holding me close, and I smile, swatting his hands. ‘This outfit even you must admit is not appropriate,’ I point out.

The buzzer for the building door goes off three times, and Leon jumps up so quickly that I’m almost thrown off the bed.

‘Sorry!’ he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the door. I hear Mo or Gerty lift the receiver to let Richie up into the building.

My stomach flips as I yank on the knitted jumper and run my fingers through my hair. I wait to hear Richie’s voice at our front door, hanging back to give him and Leon the moment they’ve been waiting for.

Instead, I hear Justin.

‘I want to talk to you,’ he says.

‘Oh. Hello, Justin,’ Leon says.

At this point, I notice that I’m already hugging my arms close to myself and tucking my body in against the wardrobe so nobody who leans in to check the flat will see me in the bedroom doorway, and I suddenly feel like screaming. He does not get to come here and do this to me. I want him gone, really gone, not just out of my life, but out of my head as well. I am done with cowering behind doors and feeling frightened.