Page 41 of Close to You

‘Sorry…’

He doesn’t sound particularly remorseful and I have to content myself with a glass of water for now.

I check the fridge again and then turn back to David. ‘Did you have the bibimbap as well?’ I ask.

‘The what?’

‘The rice bowl.’

‘That was lunch,’ he replies. ‘It was really nice. I was wondering what it was.’

It’s probably because I slam the fridge door, but David finally realises there’s something wrong. He puts his phone down and crosses to the kitchen.

‘Everything all right?’ he asks.

‘I’ve just done three classes in a row – and you’ve eaten all my food!’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘You’ve been in all day. You could’ve gone shopping.’

He presses back onto the counter and, though I can see he’s trying to look somewhat sorry, it doesn’t stop the smile slipping onto his face. He’s like a child who’s just been told off.

‘I have news,’ he says.

‘What?’

David reaches into his jeans pocket and takes out a wad of banknotes that he places on the counter.

‘There’s five-hundred there for you,’ he says.

I look from him to the money and back again. ‘Why?’

‘I figured a sort of rent thing. Or use it for the bills. Whatever. It’s not fair that you pay for everything.’

I don’t know what to say at first. This is what I’ve been hinting at for months and he’s finally got the message. It probably doesn’t cover everything I’ve spent on him in regards to food and bills – but it’s better than nothing. We’ve also got here without a big argument. I wonder if this is what it’s like with other couples. Sometimes we feel more like housemates.

‘I know we’ve never talked about it,’ he says, as if reading my mind, ‘but I think I should contribute. The sales to Sweden went through and I paid off your mum’s friends with plenty to spare.’

He smooths down the notes and then passes them over. I don’t know what to do with them, so end up holding them. I’m not sure I’ve ever had this much cash in one go.

‘What about the Slovakia thing?’ I ask.

‘That fell through.’

‘Oh…’

He bats a hand as if it doesn’t matter, even though I know he was keen a short time ago.

‘You go and sit,’ he says. ‘I’ll cook something for you to eat and then we can watch something on catch-up.’

I start to protest but not in any meaningful way. Instead, I go and change into my pyjamas and then decamp to the sofa. I fiddle with my phone, check Facebook and generally don’t do very much.

After a while, David comes over with a bowl full of a risotto he’s put together. If I’m honest, it’s not very good. He’s cooked it for too long and the rice has dried out, while the only discernible flavour is garlic. I tell him it’s nice anyway because I’m not a complete lunatic.

He sits at my side and scrolls through the list of recorded programmes to put on last weekend’sStrictly.

‘What did you get up to today?’ I ask.