Keep Your Friends Close

by Janelle Harris

  ‘Stop worrying,’ I say, wishing I could take my own advice. ‘Gillian knows your flight is today. She’ll be here.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Luke says, as he glances restlessly at his watch. ‘I just don’t want you to be on your own.’

  ‘I know. But I still wish Gillian wasn’t coming to babysit me.’

  Luke stops packing to look at me. ‘I know you don’t like to hear it, Darcy. But you need taking care of, and Gillian knows we have no family. Besides, she offered. We couldn’t exactly say no and offend her.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I shrug. ‘She’s just hard to make conversation with.’

  ‘Talk about Darcy’s Dishes. Fill her in on all your great ideas and plans for the future. Use this time to really show her how awesome you are.’

  I smile, and getting as close to my husband as my bump will allow, I wrap my arms around him. ‘This will all be worth it, won’t it, Luke?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Luke says, dotting a kiss on my forehead before he slips away from me and finishes packing.

  It takes a lot of effort to lower myself into the corner armchair where I sit and watch my husband get ready to leave. I have a sinking feeling I wish I could shake off. I usually tell Luke everything. I have for twenty-one years, but I don’t think I can tell him how I feel now. I can’t tell him I’m scared that if he leaves, he’ll miss the birth, or that Gillian kind of creeps me out, or that we have rats in our house and I can’t get anyone to help me.

  I must have fallen asleep because I’m groggy when Luke kisses my cheek, and when I open my eyes I find him standing beside me wearing his powder-grey suit. My favourite. His case is packed and standing upright beside him and he says, ‘It’s time to go.’

  I rub my eyes and Luke helps me to my feet.

  ‘What? Already?’ I say.

  Luke smiles and kisses me. ‘Gillian is downstairs,’ he says. ‘She arrived a few minutes ago.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘She says she’ll move in gradually over the weekend and she’ll be here full-time from Monday or Tuesday.’

  ‘Really. Living here from Monday. Wow.’

  Luke tilts his head and half smiles. ‘You don’t want to be alone for long.’

  ‘You don’t want me to be alone for long,’ I correct.

  Luke’s smile widens. ‘Well, yes. That’s true. Not this close to the baby coming.’

  I sigh.

  ‘My taxi is outside, honey,’ he says.

  My stomach somersaults. ‘So soon?’

  Luke nods.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, trying to seem confident. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too. I’ll call you as soon as I land.’

  ‘Do. Definitely do,’ I say.

  ‘And I’ll tell you all about the office.’

  ‘Tell me everything.’

  ‘I will. Of course, I will. I’ll be calling so often you’ll get sick of the sound of my voice.’

  ‘I could never get tired of your voice,’ I say.

  Luke and I walk hand in hand down the stairs. A delicious smell wafts from the kitchen and greets us in the hall.

  ‘Three-bean risotto,’ I say, recognising the distinctive scent.

  ‘Gillian is making dinner,’ Luke says, as if the smell isn’t hint enough. ‘Another recipe from your cookbook.’

  I stare at the barely ajar kitchen door and wonder why the hell Gillian is cooking dinner in my kitchen.

  ‘She asked me what you liked to eat. I didn’t know what to say so I directed her towards your cookbook,’ Luke says.

  I can understand Luke not knowing what to say because I’m completely lost for words right now.

  Luke winces and I can tell he feels uncomfortable too.

  ‘She’s really planning to make herself at home, isn’t she?’ I say.

  ‘Seems so.’ Luke pulls a face.

  ‘Oh, Luke. What are we getting ourselves into?’

  He gathers me into his arms and we sway together on the spot. A boat adrift at sea, weathering an unexpected storm.

  The taxi driver honks his horn impatiently.

  ‘I have to go,’ Luke says, slackening his arms around me, but I cling on tight. I’m not ready to let go.

  He kisses the top of my head that sits, as always, just under his chin. ‘Think of how different everything will be a month from now.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, snuggling closer to him. ‘Everything will be fine.’

  The horn honks again.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ Luke grunts, letting me go to pick up his suitcase. ‘I’m coming. Okay. I’m coming.’

  The kitchen door swings open and Gillian comes into the hall. She’s wearing the apron that I bought Luke a couple of Christmases ago. At least she has it turned back to front so the cheeky ‘Naked Chef’ lettering isn’t visible. But I cringe nonetheless as she’s suddenly privy to our private joke.

  ‘You’re off, then?’ she says.

  Luke nods.

  The damn horn honks for a third time.

  ‘Good luck,’ Gillian says. ‘You’ll do great. And I’ll be speaking to you on the conference call first thing on Monday.’

  ‘Monday.’ Luke nods.

  Gillian copies the nod, smiles and turns back to the kitchen.

  ‘Take the weekend to explore the city. Find your feet,’ I suggest.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah I will,’ Luke says.

  ‘I love you.’

  Luke hugs me tightly and says, ‘I love you too, honey. Bye.’

  ‘Bye.’

  I stand in the doorway, watching and waving, as Luke gets into the taxi and they drive away. But I don’t close the door. Even when it turns the corner and he’s out of view. Instead, I stand and watch life on our street. Our beautiful street that looks as if someone cropped it from the pages of a magazine. Outside is awash with vibrant colours. The sky is clear and baby blue, the row of red-brick houses across the street that mirror ours seem to stand taller and more attractive than ever. And leaves dance in the air when a summer breeze whips by, rustling the trees. Suddenly I feel as if it’s been a long, long time since I’ve belonged in that outside world. I long to walk down the street and inhale the smell of summer. I long to walk. To stretch my legs and wander far. And as Gillian comes out of the kitchen again with a wooden spoon in her hand, I expect her to ask if I’m hungry, but instead she says, ‘You’re not going to believe this but I’ve forgotten my phone. It’s like my arm. I can’t function without it.’

  Gillian doesn’t have to explain. My phone was like a body part for me too until recently. We diverted all Darcy’s Dishes’ calls to Luke’s phone to give me some rest. But I miss the buzz terribly; now the only notifications I get on my phone are Facebook ads or the odd text from a friend.

  ‘Go. Go get it,’ I say.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Gillian says, taking off the apron and dropping it and the greasy wooden spoon on to the hall table. ‘Dinner is ready, help yourself.’

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  TINA

  Saturday 13 July 2019

  ‘Hello. Hello.’

  The female voice outside the door of my flat is so faint and unsure that if I wasn’t just about to open the door and head outside, I’d certainly have missed it.

  ‘Is anyone there?’

  I don’t recognise the voice. I take a step back from the door and glance around the flat. It’s gleaming. I spent hours tidying up. All my scrapbooks are neatly stacked on my dresser in my bedroom. I’ve shredded and recycled newspapers, cropping anything of interest first and adding them to a clear folder that I’m keeping in the top drawer next to the glue and scissors.

  ‘Hello,’ the voice says again, more assertive this time as she finally knocks on the door.

  I check that both bedroom doors are closed behind me, and, content that the flat seems relatively normal, boring even, I decide to answer the door. I’m reaching for the handle when there’s another louder knock and the voice calls, ‘I’ve brought you those dust sheets I told you ab
out. Sorry it’s taken so long.’

  I jerk my hand back and freeze, finally placing the voice. Rose, the pregnant cop from that damn Pilates class, knows where I live. Great. Just great.

  ‘Tina. Are you there? I can see a car in the drive.’

  I sigh, knowing that her inquisitive nature means she’s not likely to give up until I answer.

  ‘I missed you at class. And Billy, my other half, says he’ll need the sheets back by next week for a job he’s got on, so I thought I’d call round this morning.’

  She’s much louder and more confident now and I can’t be sure, but I pick up on an air of irritation. As if she knows I’m in here and ignoring her.

  She knocks again and quite firmly says, ‘Look, the sheets are just an excuse. Polly thought you might be sick or something and I just want to check in.’

  I think about wrapping my hair in a towel and pretending I’ve just got out of the shower, but I’m worried she’ll expect me to invite her in. There’s a cake box on the shelf and I could probably distract her with a slice of whatever’s inside and a cup of tea, but there’s always the worry that she’ll start snooping – even just with her eyes. And with that monster baby bump it’s practically a guarantee that she’d need to use the loo at some stage. It would only take her opening the wrong door, even accidently, for everything to come crashing down. No. I can’t let a cop into my flat. Not ever.

  ‘Well, hello. This is a lovely surprise,’ a second female voice carries through the door. I recognise her accent immediately. It’s my upstairs neighbour. Dammit.

  ‘Kim,’ Rose says, sounding genuinely shocked. ‘This really is a surprise. How are you?’

  Nervously, I tiptoe closer to the door and squint through the peephole. Kimberly and Rose are standing face to face and smiling. While my view is limited, the flat door is flimsy and old and is no barrier to my effort to listen in. There are two large shopping bags at Rose’s feet, no doubt full of these treasured old sheets for painting. The bags look bulky and awkward, and certainly not ideal for a heavily pregnant woman to horse around town with. Kimberly, as always, is wearing tight gym gear that fits her like a second skin and leaves nothing to the imagination as it flaunts her slender body shamelessly.

  ‘I’m good, thanks,’ Kimberly says. ‘Did you enjoy class today?’

  ‘Loved it,’ Rose says. ‘And I’m definitely going to try all those suggestions you mentioned to bring labour on. I just want to meet this baby, already.’

  ‘They’re old wives’ tales, really,’ Kimberly says. ‘But worth a try. I’ll keep my fingers crossed it happens soon.’

  There’s a brief silence, and not being able to see their expressions clearly is making the conversation hard to follow, but I can tell they’re both feeling awkward. I decide it’s probably the first time they’ve bumped into each other outside of the gym.

  ‘I didn’t know you did one-to-one classes,’ Rose says, edging closer to my door and pointing at my flat.

  ‘Oh no. I don’t,’ Kimberly says. ‘Although maybe it’s something I should look into. I’m just getting home from work. I live upstairs, actually.’

  ‘No way,’ Rose says. ‘I didn’t know you and Tina were neighbours.’

  ‘Tina?’ Kimberly shakes her head.

  ‘I’ve got some dust sheets for her,’ Rose says. ‘They’re heavy auld things, so maybe I could just leave them here and you could let her know I stopped by when you see her? She’s planning to redecorate for the baby. She has ages yet, but she’s so excited, bless her.’

  ‘Tina,’ Kimberly repeats, as if she doesn’t like the taste of my name in her mouth.

  ‘Tina. Tina, oh gosh this is embarrassing, I’ve just realised I don’t know her last name,’ Rose says. ‘The wee red-haired girl from class.’

  ‘Oh, Gillian,’ Kimberly says.

  Oh shit!

  My eye is watering as I press it ridiculously close to the peephole, as if that will give me a better view. I wish I could see their faces more clearly. I need to read them. I need to see their reaction.

  ‘No. No. It’s definitely Tina I’m looking for,’ Rose says. ‘Gimme a minute. God, I’m just dreadful with names.’

  ‘Gosh, I don’t think I know any Tinas.’ Kimberly sounds confused.

  ‘Ah, don’t feel bad. She only joined two or three weeks ago,’ Rose explains. ‘She’s very quiet. Keeps to herself, really. Polly said you waved to her last week. I’m sure that made her feel welcome.’

  ‘Did I?’ Kimberly asks, and I don’t need to see her clearly to know her cheeks are red, because I can hear the embarrassment in her voice. ‘I can’t say I remember. But I’ve been teaching a lot of extra classes recently – my boyfriend and I are trying to save for a deposit on a house.’

  ‘Lots of new faces to keep track of, so.’ Rose laughs. And I never understand why people do that, laugh when something isn’t funny as if it makes them feel better to pretend it is. ‘And don’t worry. Tina isn’t the type to take offence if you don’t know her name,’ Rose says as if she knows me well, or knows me at all, really. ‘Sure, you’re neighbours after all, I’m sure you’ll get to know each other soon.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Kimberly’s confusion is almost tangible. ‘This is Gillian’s flat.’

  ‘Summers,’ Rose says suddenly. ‘That’s it. Tina Summers.’

  ‘Okay,’ Kimberly says, patiently. ‘But the girl who lives in this flat . . .’ she points at the door, ‘is Gillian. Gillian Buckley.’

  ‘Oh. A female couple. I didn’t realise,’ Rose says.

  ‘No. Just Gillian,’ Kimberly says. ‘Gillian lives on her own.’

  ‘Really?’ Rose backs away from the door and almost out of my view completely. ‘I could have sworn Tina said she’s not long moved in. And 106A was the only flat around here I could find that was recently to let. I must be losing my touch,’ Rose says, and I can hear doubt creep into her tone.

  Thank God!

  ‘Addresses around here are so confusing,’ Kimberly says. ‘They’re always changing when more old houses are split into flats. It’s so easy to get mixed up.’

  ‘Oh, this is a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?’ Rose says, picking up the two heavy bags effortlessly. ‘Bloody baby brain. It has my senses all over the place.’

  ‘Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,’ Kimberly says, and they both laugh again.

  ‘Right, I better get out of your hair,’ Rose says.

  ‘Why don’t you get one of your colleagues to double-check the address for you? There has to be some perks to being a garda, even if you are on maternity leave, right?’ Kimberly says, as they begin to walk away and the sound of the driveway stones crunching under their feet makes their voices harder to hear.

  Rose says something about wanting to catch up with everyone before the baby arrives and she adds more that I can’t quite make out about stopping by the station.

  Not if I stop by her first, I think. I fling open my bedroom door and grab the scissors from the top drawer of my dresser and race back into the hall, almost slipping on the tiles in my haste. My long, black coat is hanging by the door. It’s my favourite, even in summer. It covers me from head to toe, zipping all the way up the front, complete with a floppy hood that hides my face perfectly. I slip it on, instantly too warm, and return to spying through the peephole. I wait until Rose walks out of the gate, yielding to the weight of her stupid bags, and Kimberly is safely behind her own front door before I hurry outside.

  Chapter Forty

  DARCY

  Sunday 14 July 2019

  There’s a gentle knock on my bedroom door and before I answer, Gillian pops her head in and gingerly says, ‘Oh good, you’re awake.’

  I don’t tell her I’ve been awake for ages. I’ve so much on my mind. I’m waiting on a call or text from Luke to let me know he’s arrived safely. And of course, the worry that seems to consume most of my waking moments is weighing on me. Money. Mainly, Gillian’s money – and I wonder when is a good time to br
ing up the investment. For a busy woman she doesn’t spend as much time on her phone as I used to. I know she’s been dropped in at the deep end after her father’s death, but I’m concerned that she’s not chasing this much harder than she is. But I don’t know how to bring it up without coming off as if I don’t care about her dad. Because I do. I know how very hard it is to lose a parent. And I imagine that feeling is just as raw, estranged or not.

  ‘I made you a little something,’ Gillian says, pushing back the door and walking towards my bed with a tray in her hands.

  I blush. ‘Oh, you really shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.’

  ‘It’s no trouble.’ She smiles. ‘I know Luke makes you breakfast in bed every morning.’

  I pull myself up, embarrassed. I’m surprised Luke shared something like that with her. He’s usually so reserved. Sometimes painfully so.

  ‘I love to cook and your kitchen is just fabulous,’ Gillian says, hovering with the tray above the bedside table.

  I set my sights on the glass of orange juice wobbling on the tray. I wait for Gillian to step away before I reach for the juice and drain the glass.

  ‘Thirsty,’ she laughs.

  I nod.

  ‘Do you mind if I join you?’ she asks, pointing at the pair of matching bowls on the tray.

  I wonder if Gillian is asking to sit on the edge of my bed the way Luke does some mornings, and I find myself losing my appetite. But feeling I can’t exactly refuse, I shuffle a little closer to Luke’s side of the bed and a little further away from Gillian as I say, ‘Sure.’

  Gillian passes me a bowl and I look inside.

  ‘Thank you. I love granola,’ I say, and it’s hard to keep the tremble out of my voice.

  ‘I know,’ she replies, reaching for the second bowl before perching herself on the edge of my bed in Luke’s usual spot.

  God, I miss him already.

  ‘Berries,’ I say, looking at the colour of the mouth-watering summer fruits against the cool beiges of nuts and flakes.

  Gillian has dusted the berries with a heavy helping of icing sugar. It’s even more than Luke usually uses. I force myself to tuck in and I’m pleasantly surprised when amazing flavours burst in my mouth.