“Yeah, well, I’m very scary.”

Bella pulled the duvet more tightly to her chest. She was remembering the events of the night before and for a second, didn’t know whether she felt worse about Jake, or about Veronica. Her thoughts thronged. For a few moments, she forgot about Carl, sat on the edge of her bed. She almost jumped as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I was miles away. What was it you wanted?”

He sighed. Bella frowned at him in the dimness of the bedroom.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he said, with a faint, unpleasant emphasis on the first word. “I’m okay, Bella. Can you say the same?”

“What?” She stared at him, nonplussed, trying to make out the cast of his features in the poor light.

“I’m fine and dandy, Bella. How about you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, troubled anew by his tone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That’s for you to tell me, isn’t it? Or tell my brother. Treating you okay, is he? Keeping you happy?”

Bella smiled uneasily. He heard the argument last night – he must have. What must he think of her?

“Yes he is –“

“Because you know you can always come to me if he’s not.” Carl lent forward a little and Bella shrank back against the pillows. She was very aware that she was naked beneath the dressing gown.

“I know what he’s like, you see,” said Carl quietly. He looked down at his hands, which were folding the duvet cover into a pleat. I know what he’s like. I don’t know – “

He trailed off. Bella stared at him.

“He’s not been the same since, you know, the bombings,” Carl said. “He’s really not been the same.”

“Jake’s fine,” she said, a little shakily. “He’s fine. We’re both fine. We’re getting over it.”

“Ah, yes. It. Can you really get over something like that? Can you really push it back into being a distant memory?” Carl’s voice slowed for a moment. “Doesn’t something like that stay with you forever?”

“I don’t know.” Bella felt another spurt of unease, stronger this time. She suddenly wanted very much to be clothed in thick fabrics, with the curtains pulled back and the daylight flooding in. Most of all, she wanted to be much further away from Carl than she was at the moment.

“You don’t like to talk about it, do you? I’ve noticed that. Well, you don’t like to talk about it with me – or with V. Do you and Jake talk about it? Do you discuss it?”

“I – well – I don’t –“

“That’s what a good relationship is all about though, isn’t it?” Carl shifted infinitesimally closer to her. “Sharing each other’s lives. Talking it over.”

“I suppose so,” said Bella, uneasily. She tightened her grip on the duvet cover. She had a momentary, wild vision of Carl ripping the quilt away from her and taking her dressing gown with it. And then doing – what? She took a deep breath.

“Did you want something in particular, Carl? It’s just that, I was about to get up…”

Carl smiled. “I just thought I’d see if you were okay. You know, with things. With Jake. I know he can be a bit – a bit difficult sometimes. I’m his brother, I’ve lived with him nearly all my life. He can be a bit – a bit challenging, sometimes. But he means well. He’s obviously very fond of you.”

Bella nodded. “I hope so. I think so.” With difficulty, she pushed aside the last vision she’d had of Jake’s face, distorted by anger.

“It’s just that – “ Carl leaned forward slightly. “I’m just a bit worried about him.” He was silent for a moment and when he next spoke, he sounded very sad and very young. “I do worry about him. I always have done. But since the bombings – he’s not been quite himself. I think he’s still a bit traumatised. Do you think so?”

“Well – perhaps –“

“Has he mentioned being, well, stressed to you? Stressed about anything? Anything at all? Has he said anything?”

Bella stared at Carl.

“What exactly are you saying?”

He waved a hand dismissively. His voice had returned to its normal sardonic drawl.

“Oh nothing serious, nothing like that. I just wanted your opinion, that’s all. On Jake. On how he is.”

Bella thought for a moment of telling the truth. Of revealing Jake’s bad dreams, his volatile moods, his sudden, ferocious eruptions of temper. But then she remembered the other times, his little boy lost face, his moments of tenderness. His declarations of love. She couldn’t betray him like that.

“I would tell you if I was worried,” she said, crossing her fingers beneath the bedclothes. “But I do think he’s okay.”

Carl sat back, releasing the duvet. He smoothed out the crease he’d made.

“Well, that’s fine then” he said, somewhat coolly. “But you will come to me if you get worried, won’t you Bella? If he, well, starts to get worse. If he says anything a bit, well, strange. You know what I mean.”

“Right,” said Bella, smiling uncertainly. Carl held her gaze for a moment longer. Then he grinned, fleetingly.

“Good girl. You’re a good girl, Bella. I know I can rely on you.”

The bedspring creaked minutely as he stood up. Bella watched him walk to the door, a big, forbidding shape in the half-light. He looked so like Jake from the back. Jake – she felt a pang at the thought of him. She would go and find him and apologise and they would put last night behind them.

Carl turned at the door as if to say something else. He didn’t though. He grinned again, a flash of teeth in the dimness and then left, shutting the door behind him. She heard his heavy footsteps creaking away from her, down the long, echoing hallway.

Chapter Fourteen

Bella bounded up the path to the front door, her step light despite the plastic bags that were weighing down her hands. She struggled through the doorway and kicked the door shut behind her.

“Hello?”

No one answered her exploratory shout and she felt a surge of relief. For once, she was glad of an empty house and rooms echoing only to the sound of her footsteps. Jake wouldn’t be home until late tonight – he’d told her this morning, as they lay spooned together under the covers.

The memory brought a frown and then a smile to her face. Forget about it, she told herself sternly. That had been today’s resolution – to try and be more patient, not to overreact, to be the sort of girlfriend who took this behaviour in her stride. Someone who didn’t give a shit, essentially. She evoked Veronica in her mind as she thought this, striving for the same insouciant expression that she’d often seen on the other girl’s face.

She heaved the splitting plastic bags onto the kitchen table, dislodging bills, flyers, an old unused tea bag, empty cigarette packets and a plastic hairgrip. She’d pick those up in a second. Bella unpacked the shopping, loading the fridge with fresh vegetables and plastic-wrapped meat, stacking tins and packets in the cupboard set aside for her and Jake. She uncorked the expensive bottle of red wine that she’d bought to serve with dinner and left it to breath on the kitchen counter. Then she washed up yesterday’s dishes in a snowstorm of detergent, wiped down the counters and swept the kitchen floor.

She paused for a long drink of water and then headed upstairs, hauling the vacuum cleaner behind her. Despite her long day at work, she felt energised at the thought of the tidy room that would await her at the end of her efforts. She stripped the bed of the musky old sheets she and Jake had lain on for a month. She struggled with the mattress, eventually succeeding in turning it, and then dressed the bed in the brand new linen that she’d bought that day.

Bella picked up all the clothes that were flung on the carpet and festooned across the furniture, throwing them all in a pile for the washing machine. She tidied the dressing table, lining up the bottles and jars that littered its surface, clearing the clumps of cotton wool and crumpled tissues that lay in drifts amongst the cosmetics. Finally, she stood back and, hands on hips, surveyed her handiwork.