The Flatshare(48)

‘Don’t do this to me if she’s going to – to pull out, or . . .’ His voice comes out strangled, and my stomach twists in sympathy.

‘I’m not telling you she’s definitely going to get him out of there, but I think there’s reason to hope again. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.’

He lets out a long, slow breath, half-laughing. ‘Does Richie know?’

‘Not yet, I don’t think. She wrote to him yesterday – how long do letters take to get there?’

‘Depends – they tend to get held up at prison before they get to him. It means I get to tell him myself, though, when he next calls.’

‘Gerty will want to talk to you about the case soon too,’ I say.

‘A lawyer who wants to talk about Richie’s case,’ Leon says. ‘Lawyer. Who. Wants. To . . .’

‘Yeah,’ I interrupt, laughing.

‘Tiffy,’ he says, suddenly serious. ‘I cannot thank you enough.’

‘No, shh,’ I begin.

‘Really. It’s . . . I cannot tell you how much this means to – to Richie. And to me.’

‘I just passed on Richie’s letter.’

‘That was more than anyone else has done off their own back for my brother.’

I fidget. ‘Well, you tell Richie he owes me a letter.’

‘He’ll write. I should go. But – thank you. Tiffy. I’m so glad it was you, and not the drug-dealer or the man with the hedgehog.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Don’t worry,’ he says quickly. ‘See you later.’





32


Leon

New string of notes (Tiffy always uses several. Never has enough room):

Leon, can I ask . . . What’s the deal with the neighbours?! I’ve only ever seen the strange man in Flat 5 (do you think he knows about the hole in those trackies, by the way? He lives alone, maybe nobody has told him!). I think Flat 1 is those two old ladies who hang out at the bus stop on the corner reading gory true crime novels. But what about Flat 4 and 2? xx

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Flat 4 is nice middle-aged man with unfortunate crack habit. Always assumed Flat 2 belongs to the foxes. x

Written on back of draft manuscript on coffee table:

Ah, yes! The foxes. Well, I hope they’re paying rent. Did you notice Fatima Fox has had three little cubs?!

Below:

. . . Fatima Fox?

And, speaking of rent. Have an alert in my phone saying we’ve hit six months since you moved in. Technically end of your lease I think? You want to stay?

Then, added that evening, post-sleep:

As in, hope you want to stay. Don’t need the money so badly any more what with scarf sales and new, unbelievably excellent free lawyer. But not sure what flat would look like without you in it now. Could not survive without beanbag, for starters. x

Beneath this, Tiffy has sketched a group of foxes on a sofa, with heading Flat 2. Each fox is carefully labelled.

Fatima Fox! She’s the mama fox. The chief vixen, if you will.

Florentina Fox. The cheeky second-in-command. Her usual haunt is the smelly corner by the bins.

Fliss Fox. The whimsical young chancer. Generally found attempting to enter the building via a window.

Fabio Fox. The resident dog fox. (This is actually what male foxes are called but I do also imagine he’s a bit of a dog.)

The new babies, as yet unnamed by me. Would you like to do the honours?

Below this:

Yes, please, the beanbag and I would love to stay a while longer. Shall we say another six months? xx

*

Another six months. Perfect. Done x

New note, beside empty tiffin tray:

I’m sorry, WHAT? Noggle, Stanley and Archibald?

They don’t even begin with F!

Same note, now left beside large plate of shepherd’s pie:

What can I say. Fabio Fox liked Noggle. The other two were Fatima’s idea.

Also, sorry, couldn’t help noticing recycling bin contents when putting it out today. Are you OK? x

Shepherd’s pie all gone. New note:

Yeah, don’t worry, I’m actually really good. A purge of ex-related memorabilia was long overdue, and it has also freed up a lot more under-bed space for storing scarves. (In case you were wondering, we’re really not Team Ex any more.) xx

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Ah, no? Must say I’d become less keen on Ex anyway. Well, more scarf space is certainly welcome. Got my foot caught in one yesterday – it was lying on bedroom floor waiting to snag the unwary. x

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Oops, sorry, sorry, I know I must stop leaving clothes on the bedroom floor! Also, apologies if this is way too personal but have you bought, like, ENTIRELY new boxers? Suddenly all the old ones with amusing cartoon characters are never on the clothes horses, and the flat has become an homage to Mr Klein whenever you do laundry.

And while we’re on the subject of exes . . . Have you heard anything from Kay? xx

New double Post-it. Very occasionally, I run out of room. Also, thought quite hard about what to say in this one.

Saw her last weekend, at an old friend’s wedding. Was weird. Nice. Chatted as friends, and felt good. Richie was right: relationship had ended long before it ended.

Eh. Yes, did a general clothes overhaul. Realised I hadn’t bought new clothes in approx. five years. Also, became suddenly aware that a woman lives in this flat and sees my laundry.