Chapter Twelve

Bella awoke to a blustery day, the curtains at the open window billowing into the room as the wind gusted outside. She curled herself into the duvet and felt Jake's warm arm slip around her from behind. She hesitated, wondering how to play it.

"Sorry," he murmured, into the back of her neck.

Bella wavered, and then once again gave in. She just didn't feel strong enough for another quarrel. Besides... she scooted herself round to face him and kissed him, oblivious to his morning breath.

He made love to her, rolling her over to face away from him, his hand steady on her hip. Bella worried briefly about being late for work and tamped down on the thought. This was more important.

“Were you dreaming about sweets?” she asked him, when she came back from the shower. Jake was just pulling on his jacket.

“Sweets?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

Bella dropped the towel from around her onto the floor.

“Oh, you were talking in your sleep again. You kept saying ‘candy’.” She giggled. “Over and over again. ‘Candy, candy, candy.’ I thought it was a bit weird, because, well, you’re not American, are you?”

She stretched a leg out and began to smooth body lotion into it, working her fingers against the skin. The long bone of her shin glistened in the dim bedroom light. She became aware of a silence in the room and looked up. Jake was staring at the wall, one hand arrested in the act of pulling at his jacket sleeve.

“Jake?”

There was no answer. Bella stood up and made a move towards him.

“Jake? Are you okay?”

He turned towards her like an automaton. Bella took a step back at the frozen expression on his face.

“Jake?” she faltered.

He smiled, a rictus grin, or at least moved the muscles of his face. She smiled tentatively back.

“What’s up?”

“I’m fine,” he said tonelessly. He stretched the corners of his mouth again. “I’ve got to go. Sorry hon but I’m going to be late.”

“Okay.”

Bella watched him walk stiffly from the room and heard him go down the stairs, a slow plod as opposed to his usual canter. She almost called after him but decided against it. Don’t rock the boat, Bella, she told herself and went back to her moisturising.

Despite Jake’s momentary weirdness, she went to work with a spring in her step, buoyed up again by the resolution to their argument. Even the day's dull tasks didn't seem quite so boring as usual. She washed up cups in the tiny, fetid kitchen, humming as she worked.

"You're in a good mood."

Tracey was poking about in the cupboards in a search for tea bags. She looked over at Bella at the sink and grinned.

"And it's a Monday too."

"I know." Bella upended the last cup on the draining board. "Don't know what's wrong with me."

"You must have had a good weekend?"

"Mmm," said Bella.

She finished off some filing that had been stuck on her desk for the past two weeks. Slotting each file into place brought its own satisfactions. She went out for lunch at one o’clock and treated herself to a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel. She went into Muji and bought a set of storage boxes, folded flat. Their room at Fever Street was a right mess – she’d been meaning to clean it up for days. The boxes would help.

She was tired when she got home and left her shopping bags on the bed. She’d have a proper clean up tomorrow. Bella pulled on her tracksuit bottoms and headed downstairs in search of food.

Veronica came home as she’d put the finishing touches to a bolognaise sauce. Bella looked up at the slam of the front door and smiled as Veronica came into the kitchen.

“Is there wine? I need wine.”

Veronica slung her bag on the table. She wore a gun-metal grey suit, high-necked with a short, tight skirt. Wearing it, she moved more stiffly than normal, as if her limbs were slowly turning to stone, thought Bella fancifully.

“Christ, what a day.”

“Mmm. I hate Mondays.”

“Where are the boys?”

Bella shrugged.

“Oh well – who cares – “

Veronica poured herself another hefty slug of wine. Bella watched her long throat ripple as she swallowed.

“You going out tonight?”

“No fear. Not on a Monday.”

Veronica nodded. “Let’s watch a film, or something.”

“Okay.”

Bella felt a little pulse of happiness. She felt accepted suddenly, for the first time. I’m part of it now, she thought. I’m part of the family. She held out a plate to Veronica.

“Would you like some dinner?”

They curled up on each end of the sofa after the meal, another bottle of red wine open on the coffee table before them. Bella made herself a nest of cushions, padding the back and sides of the sofa, while Veronica tucked a rug over her long legs, folding herself neatly into the corner of the couch. The gas fire was lit and flickering softly, there were candles casting small golden circles of light on the mantelpiece, and the curtains were drawn firmly across the window and tucked behind the radiator that stood breathing warmth into the room. For the first time, Bella found the house cosy. She and Veronica watched a bit of television, some tacky reality TV show, and then they found a romantic comedy that was just starting on Five. Veronica poured them both another brimming glass of wine and they watched the feeble story unfold, giggling at the terrible jokes, snorting at the numerous love scenes. Bella couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed herself more. But as the level of the wine bottle went down, and the minutes ticked by, she became away of a rising anxiety, undercutting their easy closeness. Where was Jake? Surely he was normally home by now? Where was he?

Carl came home just as the end credits of the film began to scroll slowly upwards on the television screen. He kissed Veronica on the mouth and then walked past Bella, putting a finger to her cheek. She looked up at him in the dim light, startled.

“Where’s that little brother of mine?”

“I don’t know,” said Bella. He smelt just like Jake – they must use the same aftershave. She shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t know where he is.”

“Probably working late,” said Veronica. She uncurled herself from the sofa. “You should check your mobile, he’s probably left you a message.”

Bella had checked it, surreptitiously, on her last trip to the toilet. There had been no message, no little text icon on the screen.

“No, it’s okay,” said Bella, unwilling to risk their concern or worse, their ridicule. “Actually, I think he said he was working late tonight.”

Carl nodded.

“Christ, I’m wiped. V, what’s for dinner?”

Veronica looked at Bella in mute appeal. Bella raised her eyebrows at the expression on her face and suddenly twigged.

“Er – I cooked tonight. There’s loads left, it’s on the stove.” She hoped that was true.

Carl nodded again.

“Can you cook?” he asked. “Or am I going to take one mouthful and drop dead of food poisoning?”

Bella swallowed. She never knew how to take Carl, she couldn’t tell when he was being serious or when he wasn’t. She hoped the frown on his face at the moment wasn’t a real one. She looked at Veronica and was startled to see the expression on her face. She looked afraid. There was no other word for it. Bella felt a prickle of unease. She tried to smile.

“I hope I can cook. I haven’t killed anyone yet.”

Veronica moved suddenly on the sofa and Carl turned his head to look at her, quickly but expressionlessly. Bella stared at him. She found she was curling her fingers into her palms again and forced herself to relax.

“I’ll risk it,” said Carl. He extended a hand to Veronica who took it, slowly. The two of them left the room.