‘Luca!’ He beamed.
‘Hi, Joseph. Sorry to bother you. Could you do me a favour?’
‘Of course. What can I do for you?’
‘My friend’s just coming upstairs for a minute,’ he said, indicating Claire, who waved hello. ‘She’s left her car out front. Could you watch it for me?’
‘Sure, no problem.’ He smiled at Claire, ducked inside for a moment, then stepped into the hall carrying a huge colourful umbrella and closed the door behind him.
‘Thanks. We won’t be long,’ Luca said, as he led Claire to the stairs.
‘That’s not something to boast about, Luca,’ Joseph said, laughing as he went to the door.
‘Thanks,’ she said, as she followed him up the stairs. ‘For getting him to watch my car. I really can’t afford to lose it.’
Luca shrugged. He wasn’t being entirely altruistic. If anything happened to her car, he’d be stuck with her until she got a taxi.
He lived on the third floor at the top of the house. He took a deep breath outside his door, bracing himself to play it cool. Then he opened it and ushered her in ahead of him, flicking on the light switch as he followed her. Nothing.Oh, shit. His heart sank. He flicked the switch on and off idiotically a few times, as if it was suddenly going to spring back to life, just because he wanted it to. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Claire stood in the centre of the room gazing at him quizzically in the light coming through the window from the street.
‘No electricity. Sorry.’
‘Are you having a blackout or something?’
Lights glowed in the building opposite, and the streetlamps poured yellow rays through the window. Clearly there was no blackout. It was just him – his own personal blackout arranged especially for him by the electricity company. Well, he had been warned – several times. Still, on the bright side, it meant she wouldn’t get a good look at the place – and there was no question of offering her tea. He would get her out quickly, then put on some dry clothes and get under the blankets with the remains of the bottle of whiskey he still had in the cupboard.
‘The lights were on downstairs,’ she said.
‘Sorry, it’s just… It’s been cut off.’
‘Oh.’
‘Well, I have a torch somewhere for just such emergencies,’he said, going to the kitchen area and rooting through a drawer. He found it quickly and switched it on, relieved to find that it was working.
‘There you go,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘The loo is just in here.’ He guided her to the bathroom with a hand at her back. ‘Hope you’re not afraid of the dark,’ he said, smiling as he closed the door on her startled face.
He went back to the living room, threw himself down wearily in the big soft armchair facing the street and closed his eyes.
Claire was appalled by what she had seen of Luca’s flat. Granted, she hadn’t seen much, but as she washed her hands, she looked around the little bathroom in the dim light of the torch. The poverty of it was heartbreaking. She frowned at herself in the cracked mirror over the washbasin. She felt bad now for asking to come in. He obviously hadn’t wanted her to see where he lived, and now she knew why. It was a complete shithole. And he was soaked to the skin, with no electricity. She would have to get him to come home with her. But he was so touchy. How could she do it without making him feel even more humiliated and patronised? She sighed. Well, she had to try. There was no way she could let him stay here.
‘Thanks,’ she called, as she made her way back to the living room. She was greeted with silence. She shone the beam of the torch around, but she couldn’t see Luca anywhere. Maybe he had gone back downstairs ahead of her. She stood for a while, taking in her surroundings. It was a large room, with high, wood-panelled sash windows. There was a little table in one corner and a small kitchen area separated off by an open archway. Most of the room was given over to painting equipment and materials. Alarge easel stood near the window, and the shelves were crammed with brushes, bottles and tubes of paint. Canvases of various sizes were stacked against the walls and propped up on chairs. She couldn’t see the subjects, but Luca hadn’t been kidding about their size – some were enormous. There was a threadbare sofa against one wall, and a large armchair facing the window. She went to the window and peered out, to see if Luca was on the street. But Joseph was alone, leaning against the bonnet of her car under his multi-coloured umbrella.
Turning away from the window, she gasped: Luca was in the armchair, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling softly. She hesitated, not sure what to do. She couldn’t leave him there in soaking wet clothes. He didn’t look very comfortable, his head at an awkward angle.
‘Luca,’ she said softly, hoping it would be enough to wake him. But it wasn’t. ‘Luca!’ She shook his shoulder gently.
To her relief, he stirred and opened his eyes. ‘Oh, sorry. I fell asleep.’
‘Sorry, but you wouldn’t be very comfortable if you slept there for the night.’
‘You done?’ he asked, standing up.
‘Yeah. Thanks.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You really need to get out of those wet clothes. You’ll catch your death.’You’ll catch your death!Had she really just said that? She’d definitely been living with her mother for too long.
He nodded. ‘I’ll change.’ When she made no move to leave, he said, ‘But I’ll wait until you’re gone, if it’s all the same to you.’
‘Oh.’ She realised she was staring at him stupidly. ‘Look, why don’t you come home with me?’ she said in a rush.
‘What?’
