Queenie(60)

Cassandra

. . . Are you surprised?



Queenie

Er, I AM, YEAH. Are you NOT??



Cassandra

It explains his behavior, doesn’t it. The intensity, the caginess, the distance, the coming back when he got bored again, the withdrawal.



Queenie

Okay, Cassandra, if you have an answer for everything, why did he stop talking to me when we’d had sex?



Cassandra

There was no more excitement or chase, only guilt in its place. And he couldn’t handle it. He’s a coward.



Darcy

A BLOODY COWARD. I hate him for this, Queenie. I’m so sorry



Queenie

And I’ve just bumped into Welshman when I had no bra on and was wearing an outfit that was pretty much covered in paint. I smell like I’ve showered in bleach. Today is not going my way. This year is not going my way



Darcy

Please stay away from Welshman! Your resilience against men who are bad for you is VERY LOW at the moment



Cassandra

Queenie, for the love of God, stop giving any of them your energy. We’ll discuss tomorrow morning. See you at 11.





* * *



Sleep paralysis is a strange thing. I’d had dozens of episodes at university when I’d take naps; when I looked into it, I’d read that it’s something about the brain being disrupted and waking up before the body, which is why you can’t move when you’re hallucinating that there’s a faceless man climbing across the floor toward you. I’d been seeing him more often recently, but I was aware that I was stuck in an episode when I started seeing the figure of a man emerging out of the pile of clothes on the corner chair.

The doorbell was ringing, but I couldn’t get up to answer it because I was stuck to the bed, staring at him as he contorted and reached out to me. But why was the doorbell ringing?

I gasped myself awake and sat up, heart pounding. The doorbell was ringing. I looked at my phone: 2 a.m.

No response from Rupert or Nell—they must still be out. I waited for the night caller to go away. After a few minutes, they stopped ringing the bell. I turned my pillow over and tried to go back to sleep. I was almost fully submerged when the bell started going again.

I crept out of my room and down the stairs slowly, my heart beating out of my chest. I was certainly testing its endurance tonight. Obviously weaponless, I pressed myself against the front door and looked through the peephole, guessing that my plan of attack would be to scream as loud as I could if they kicked the door down. Nobody was there.

As if in a horror film, a face flashed up. Fucking Guy. I opened the front door. “What are you doing?” I hissed, blocking him from entering.

“You ain’t go’ any time for me anymore an’ I’on like it,” he slurred, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t wan’ sex anymore an’ thas crap for me because our sex is absolutely cracking.” He moved his hand across my face and I pulled myself out of his reach. “You see? You used to love my touch.”

His head lolled forward and he leaned against the doorframe. I saw a porch light go on across the road as the angry Turkish woman opposite opened her front door.

“Go away, Guy!” I hissed.

“Where’m I goin’ away to?”

“To your house? Where you live?”

“I’on know my postcode. I’on know where my keys are. So I’ve come to see you!” he shouted. “I’ll tell you what—I’ll sleep on the doorstep, shall I?”

“Hey, you!” the woman across the road shouted back. “Stop making the noise!”

“Sorry!” I whispered as loudly as possible. “Fine, come inside.” I growled, pulling Guy in and closing the door behind him. I walked to the kitchen and he stumbled after me, throwing himself into a dining chair as I poured him a glass of water. I handed it to him and watched him down it and slam the empty glass on the table.

“Guy!” I said, smacking at his clumsy hands as he tried to grab at my bottom. “You need to sleep.” I stood behind him and guided him into the living room. He flopped onto one of the sofas and lay on his back.

“?’Member when we fucked here? You loved it. Your big black arse was bouncin’ up an’ down an’ up—hey, hey, where you going?” Guy made one final grab for me as I dropped a blanket on him and turned to walk out of the room.

“I’m going to bed,” I said, ignoring his comment and the reminder that I’d conceded to his request of sofa sex just to stop him from constantly asking.

“Shhh, babe, don’t be cranky. You’re so gorgeous even in your head-wrap thing. Why’on I come up with you? You missed me surely? Missed this, yeah?” He gestured at his lap sloppily. I turned the light off.

“I’m getting up early, my friend Cassandra is coming round for breakfast. Besides, no. No more sex.”

“No Cassandra. I don’t want Cassandra.”

“Good night, Guy. DO NOT come up.” I went back to the kitchen, filled Guy’s empty glass, and crept into the living room. He’d already started to snore. I put the glass on the table by his head, then worried that he’d fall off the sofa and crack his head on the table, so tried to move it across the room silently. I dropped it on its side and froze. I looked over. He continued to snore.