Fourteen Days(62)

“It’s no problem, Peter,” Christina replied, as he ushered her inside.

“How’ve you been? Everything going well?”

“Urrr… good thanks,” she replied.

He pointed to the living room. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room and I’ll go get Sophie.”

Nodding, she entered the room. Richard followed closely. Sitting on the sofa, uneasy, she scanned the room. Everything was in disarray. The coffee table was stacked with empty cups, pieces of food, and discarded chocolate wrappers, the cream-colored carpet was covered in dirt and various other spillages, some of the photo frames had been knocked or turned over, and the single sofa chair was piled up with rumpled clothes.

Richard watched Christina fidget nervously on the sofa as the minutes passed. She tilted her head to see through the glass panel of the door for signs of movement—there were none. She checked her wristwatch and groaned, glancing impatiently again at the glass panel. She then stood, but the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs prompted her to remain seated. Peter entered and leaned against the doorframe, still smiling.

“Is Sophie all right?” Christina asked, calmly, clearly hiding her anxiety. “Is she on her way down?”

“She’s still sleeping, sorry. She hasn’t been herself these past few months. She sleeps a lot.”

She nodded sympathetically. “I understand.”

“She hasn’t left her bed virtually since it happened.”

“Has she been to see the doctor? Maybe they could prescribe something to help her. I know it must have been absolutely terrible for you both.”

His smile slowly vanished. “Yes it was. Especially her. But,” he glanced up, “she’s sleeping now.”

“Well maybe I could call ’round another time then—when she’s up and about.” She started to get up from the sofa again.

Moving away from the doorway, he held out his hand in protest. “No, there’s no need to go. Why don’t you just go up to see her?”

Grimacing in confusion, she said, “But she’s sleeping.”

“Yes, but she’ll probably get up for you. She just needs to hear your voice. We haven’t been getting along all that well, and I think she didn’t believe me that you were downstairs. She could really use a friendly face.”

She paused for a moment as if wanting desperately to think of a valid excuse to leave. “All right,” she said, defeated. “I’ll pop up to say hello.”

His smile returned. “Great.” He walked out into the hallway, Christina behind him. Richard followed closely. Just at the foot of the stairs, Peter stopped and turned to Christina. “Why don’t you go up? I want to bring her a drink. Do you want something as well?”

“No thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. He walked past her, heading for the kitchen. “Which room is it?” she called out.

“It’s the one straight ahead.” He reached the kitchen. “Just go straight in. She won’t mind. Honestly.”

Richard trailed after her up the stairs. He could sense her reluctance as she approached the closed bedroom door. Reaching for the doorknob, she hesitated. She then took a deep breath and gingerly opened the door and entered. Like the living room, the room was a mess. Dirty clothes were scattered across the floor, the bedside tables were filled with used cups and dishes, and Richard could smell a horrible, rancid stink in the air, prompting him to see if the window was open. It wasn’t. And judging by the aroma, it hadn’t been for some time.

Sophie was curled up, buried in a mass of duvet. “Sophie?” Christina delicately whispered. There was no reply, so she moved a little closer. “Sophie? Are you awake? It’s Christina—Christina Long.” Still no reply.

Edging closer, stepping carefully over the clothes on the floor, she whispered again, “Sophie?”

Christina was now standing at the side of the bed, leaning over. “Sophie?” Still she failed to answer. “Sophie, it’s Christina. Are you awake? Peter said it was all right for me to come up and speak to you.” Still nothing. Frowning, she reached forward to give her a gentle prod. Touching the thick and puffy duvet, her hand sank straight down to the mattress. With a look of puzzlement, she prodded another section. The duvet was completely hollow. She pulled the bedding away, only to find the bed deserted. She took a step back. She must have the wrong room, Richard thought, as he moved out of her way.