It Started With A Tweet(25)

‘But I’m fine. Look, it’s not like I’m a drug addict, I don’t have the shakes. And it’s not as if I’m going to scratch someone’s eyes out to see what’s going on with Twitter.’

She gives me a look that suggests she’s not so sure.

‘I haven’t even thought about my phone since I woke up.’

Mainly because I had more pressing matters, like a rodent crawling up my leg. But now that I’ve realised my phone is missing, I’m not going as crazy as I thought I would. I might be intrigued to know how many people have retweeted my awful tweet, and I might want to see if my boss has emailed me to say they’ve realised it isn’t such a big deal and I can have my job back. But it’s not like I’m going to be climbing down the well to rescue it or anything .?.?. at least not yet.

‘Why don’t you jump in the shower and have some breakfast, and I’ll be as quick as I can? Now, apart from mouse poison, I’m getting light bulbs, an extra torch, a cheap watch, enough food for two or three days – any special requests?’

‘Chocolate and wine. I’m allowed wine on the detox, right?’ I think the only way I’m going to get through spending so much time with my sister is by drinking.

‘I bloody hope so. Right, wine and chocolate, done. See you later on.’

As she pounds down the stairs I head as instructed towards the shower, desperate to wash off the intimate encounter with my rodent friend.

Surprisingly, after the events of the last two days, I slept pretty well. We went to bed around 9ish and I don’t remember waking up in the night. I expected to replay what happened with my job over and over in my mind, but I must have been truly exhausted.

I walk into the bathroom, trying to ignore the mould on the wall, and the windows, which look opaque from dirt rather than frosted glass, and run the shower. At least the bath looks clean and the shower curtain looks new. I peel off my clothes and step into the bath as the water splutters out in a chaotic fashion, just as it did downstairs.

I put a hand under it, and to my amazement it’s hot! What a bonus. I put my whole body under it and immediately start to feel refreshed. I pick up a bottle of expensive shampoo, which Rosie must have left in here, and lather it all up, when all of a sudden the water starts to go lukewarm.

‘Oh no you don’t.’

I start desperately turning the hot up and the cold down, but nothing seems to be happening. The water temperature is dropping by the second and I can feel it getting colder and colder.

‘Stay with me, hot water,’ I say to the taps, as if I’m a doctor pleading with a dying patient I’m trying to resuscitate, but it’s no use. I’m forced to jump back to the other end of the bath and I shiver as I assess my options. I know that I have to wash the shampoo out of my hair. I take a deep breath and lean my head in, my teeth chattering as the water makes contact. I do it as quickly as I can while I freeze my arse off and goosebumps prickle up my arms. Finally, I rejoice as I see the water running clear between my toes and I turn off the taps. I have the ultimate brain freeze, which is bad enough when you’ve been eating ice cream, but so much worse when you haven’t even had frozen-chocolate pleasure beforehand.

I grab at a towel from the rack – at least that’s clean and oh so soft. Rosie wasn’t joking when she said she’d brought a little luxury from home.

I towel myself down as quickly as I can to get warm and dry. At least it’s May and not the middle of January. I think my hair would have turned to icicles if it had been any colder.

I wander back into the bedroom I shared with Rosie and give my suitcase a prod around before I open it, just in case any of Mickey’s friends have decided to set up home in it.

Deciding that it’s not moving on its own, I open it up and pull on a fresh pair of jeans and T-shirt, followed by a nice fitted cardigan. It’s great to have clean clothes again. I slip my feet into my suede espadrille boots and tie a scarf around my neck. I rub my hair as dry as I can, before plaiting it quickly to the side. I might not have a mirror, but I can tell I’ve pulled off the ultimate country chic look. If only I were able to snap a selfie. I’m sure it would look impressively arty taken up against one of the crumbling stone walls outside. It makes me pine for my phone, thinking how perfect this place is for Instagram.

I hear a thud above my head and I freeze. What the hell was that? It sounded too big for a mouse.

I wish that I’d gone with Rosie. I could quite happily have camped out in her car; she could even have locked me in. At least then I wouldn’t be bait for the monsters that live in the attic.

‘Hello?’ I call.

It’s quiet again and I reassure myself that it must have been the wind. I can hear it rattling around the windows. I’m sure that something just blew over.

I hurry downstairs and find myself in the big kitchen. It’s draughtier today; the big hole in the bottom of the door is doing nothing to keep the chill out.

The noises are freaking me out and I figure that staying inside will only remind me of all the go-to gadgets I’m missing. I decide instead to go out and explore. It takes me three attempts to pull the heavy door open and it almost knocks me back as I set off. I’m met with a grey sky that matches the boulders in the walls and I instinctively fold my arms to stay warm. Why didn’t I bring a coat with me?

I scan the horizon wondering which way to head, when I spot the well. I try not to look at it at first, but it’s as if my phone is calling for me. I listen out for the sound of Rosie’s car, but all I can hear is the wind.