‘I’ve just been to Fin’s to pick up his stuff and there are empty bottles everywhere. What the hell is going on, Eleanor?’ Freya’s voice was becoming increasingly fretful.
‘Eleanor.’
Suddenly her phone screen lit up and began to vibrate violently.
‘I can see your phone ringing through the window,’ her sister continued to holler. ‘I’m not stupid … let me in.’
‘I’m sick,’ Eleanor groaned pathetically. ‘I don’t want you to catch it.’
‘Eleanor Ruth Levy … don’t make me call Mum,’ Freya threatened.
She wouldn’t dare!
‘You’ve got ten seconds to get your arse up and open this door, or I swear to God I’ll be on the phone to her.’
Eleanor sat bolt upright. Resentment simmered under the surface of her skin but she forced herself to standing and made her way over to the front door.
‘Ten … nine … eight … seven …’ Freya counted down.
Eleanor placed her cheek against the cool wood of the door and closed her eyes.
Make it quick.
Show her you’re alive and get her out as fast as possible.
She opened the door, assembling her face into the best ‘I’m totally fine, now leave me alone, there’s nothing to worry about’ expression she could muster.
‘Christ, what happened to you?’ Freya remarked, her eyes scanning the length of her.
‘I told you, I’m not feeling well.’ Eleanor folded her arms defensively across her chest, very aware she hadn’t showered and was still wearing her pyjamas.
‘That’s what Sal said. She said you hadn’t been in work since yesterday.’ Freya stepped closer, inching her way into the flat with every word. ‘And do my eyes deceive me? Are those six empty ice-cream tubs lined up on the countertop over there?’
Eleanor whipped her head round and saw the evidence immediately.
Idiot.
You absolute idiot.
‘I had Sal over last week and forgot to take them out to the recycling,’ she lied.
‘Bullshit.’ Freya pushed past her and stormed into the living room. Eleanor could do nothing but follow and wait for her sister’s reaction as she took in the scene. Pieces of paper were scattered on the floor; half-drunk mugs of tea huddled in groups; biscuit wrappers and crisp packets sprawled their contents out on to the carpet.
Freya stood, completely speechless, in the middle of the room.
‘I wasn’t expecting visitors,’ Eleanor murmured.
‘I can see that.’ Her sister sounded dumbfounded. ‘What’s going on?’ Freya turned. ‘And don’t lie to me. This’ – she gestured around the room – ‘is not nothing. And what I saw at Fin’s flat isdefinitelynot nothing.’
Eleanor perched on the edge of the sofa and closed her eyes. She’d been hiding away in an attempt to avoid the very moment she was now faced with.
You don’t have to tell her.
It will only make things worse.
Lie, Eleanor. For Christ’s sake, find a way to lie.
She felt her sister’s stare burning into the top of her head.
