In and out. In and out.
A sliver of breeze crossed my face, carrying the smell of Dettol. A hand slipped under my pillow. It should have made me shudder with fear, but I was relieved.
It wasn’t my turn.
As the door closed, I snaked my hand beneath the pillow and took out the gummy lolly that had been left as my reward, savouring the sweetness of the bribe.
“Riley!” screamed Olivia from beyond the now-closed door.“RILEY!”
I jolted awake, my legs thrashing in the sleeping bag automatically and my nerves feeling five years old. Guilt choked me like concrete.
Thirty years meant little to a memory.
Pulling the pillow off my eyes, I squinted at the sunlight that streamed through the back window.
What time was it?
My phone, which thankfully still had charge, read 6:47 a.m, and I forced myself to look around, the way I always do after that dream.
Torn ceiling fabric. White sneakers on the floor. Looming nightmare house to my left.
A shadow passed across the windscreen, making me jump, and a swift burst of adrenaline dumped into my veins.
“Geez!” I said, clutching my hand over my racing heart before dialling Rick.
“They know,” I blurted as soon as he answered.
“Ry, it’s not even 7 a.m.,” he croaked.
“Then put your phone on flight mode at night if your precious sleep’s that important,” I snapped.
“I can’t. I need to be contactable during the night…”
I didn’t bother answering. I didn’t want to hear how thriving his love life was when mine had flatlined.
“What do they know?” His frustration was audible.
“That I’m a single loser.”
“What?”
“The cats. They know,” I answered.
“I’m lost.”
“There’s a cat on the windscreen of my car,” I told him.
“What?”
“You know, a woman of a certain age, still single. The cats know. They’ve come to claim me. They know I’ve got no job, no home, and my relationship skills are tragic. I’m destined to become a cat hoarder who’s oblivious to the fact that her house reeks of crap.” The ginger cat rolled lazily on my bonnet, soaking up the rising sun.
“Shoo!” I hissed, flicking my hand at the glass, but he only stretched further. “My eggs are still viable. I’m not a spinster!” I shouted.
Rick cleared his throat. “I’m still here, you know.”
“Tell me I’m not a failure,” I blurted.
“You’re not a failure,” he yawned. “Minor redirection. What’s the plan for today? How did it go with the house?”
