Page 12 of The Girlfriend

T HE KITCHEN WAS FULL OF POSTDINNER DEbrIS; PLATES, GLASSES , and pans were stacked by the sink, the culinary wreckage from the evening.

The dishwasher had long finished its gurgling with the first load that she’d filled some hours before, but Laura couldn’t face the rest. It could wait for Mrs. Moore in the morning.

She sat on her swing seat in the garden, pushing herself against the ground with her foot, pondering the evening.

She had seemed nice enough, Daniel’s girlfriend, although quiet.

Laura supposed she was nervous, but it had been hard to engage her in conversation.

... In fact, she’d practically clammed up when they’d mentioned her birthday with her mother.

And then there was that odd thing she’d done, at the end of the evening.

With her hand. It was almost as though she was claiming Daniel, wanting to score a point?

No . . . that was silly, and Laura felt bad for thinking it.

The girl was probably just nervous as hell, poor thing.

Soon after, Daniel had offered to take her home, and Laura had known they were itching to get away, and she smiled, knowing they needed time for themselves.

Daniel had driven her back to Tooting, and as he’d left, he made it clear she shouldn’t wait up.

Once they’d gone, Howard retreated again to his study.

Even Moses had gone out for a night prowl and now she was left with her thoughts.

The wind coursed through the trees at the end of the garden and she shivered. The temperature had dropped for the first time in a week. Laura realized she was cold and went back inside, closing up the bifold doors behind her.

Lying in bed, she tried to sleep, but felt restless.

The curtains billowed in the buffeting wind; then there was a crack of thunder.

Finally the storm that they had been waiting for was breaking.

The rain started, and in a matter of seconds, it was hammering against the window, in some disjointed torrential rhythm as the wind blew it bullyingly about.

Laura got up, and as she went to close the window, she saw a flash of lightning against the sky.

It lit up the garden and the large opaque ground window glistened wet in the rain.

Then she heard a faint mew. The next flash illuminated Moses outside the bifold doors, waiting to be let in.

“Oh, Moses,” she said exasperatedly, but quickly went downstairs.

As she opened the doors, he scuttled inside, gratefully rubbing his thanks against her legs.

She stood for a moment and watched the storm, but then a flurry of rain blew into her face and she shut the door.

She looked around for Moses, but he had gone for a late supper, so she left him and went back upstairs to bed.

She lay staring at the ceiling; through the plaster was Howard in his study, engrossed in work one floor above her.

She thought about how sad it was that they didn’t really talk anymore.

She turned over on her side and instead thought of Cherry.

She resolved to do something for her. Something to make her feel comfortable; perhaps she’d take her out somewhere.

Yes, that would be nice. She switched off her light and the room plummeted into darkness.

She tried to block out the storm battling at the window and at some point must have succeeded, for she drifted off to sleep.