‘Yeah. He’s Brazilian. Gorgeous,’ she adds.
Shane frowns, trying to make sense of this. ‘But you haven’t met him yourself, have you? In real life, I mean?’
‘No, but he’s coming round to pick me up. We’re going to that cute little tapas place. The one I keep saying we should try, but you’re always so busy—’ She snorts and swivels her gaze to the small digital clock on the kitchen shelf. ‘Anyway, he’ll be here any minute, so?—’
‘Right! I’ll let you get on then.’ Shane smiles tightly and heads for a shower, more to try and wash away his irritation than anything else. In his cramped little bathroom, tubs of glittery body gel emblazoned with mermaids and unicorns have colonised every surface. There are fat tubes of fake tan leaking brownish goo, and several outsized, darkly stained mittens strewn about. He hasn’t dared ask what they’re for. A clear plastic pouch perched on his windowsill bears the words LAMINATING KIT. He doesn’t understand what that’s for either. Is it her face she laminates, or something else? He’s asked, gently, if she’d mind storing some of this stuff in her room, but nothing has happened and he hasn’t had the energy to pursue it. How had Josie signed off that first message to him again? Yep – that’s it. He just needs to chill out and adopt some of those best golden love vibes himself.
From the sanctuary of his bedroom, Shane hears a sharp rap on the door and Elaine exclaiming, ‘Hi! Hi! Come in!’
There’s a low male rumble – ‘Lovely to meet you at last!’ – and a tumble of voices as they chatter over each other and then… silence. No, not quite silence. Shane has wondered sometimes if all of those years spent drumming in bands might have damaged his hearing a little. But apparently not, as it seems that his ears can pick up the tiniest sounds. He hears a long, drawn out mmmmmm from Elaine, followed by what are clearly kissing noises. So his hearing is fine – but Jesus! This is his home! A home he virtually bankrupted himself to buy, and a stranger is in it, snogging Elaine! Shane sits on his bed, staring bleakly at the wall and trying to figure out why this feels so wrong.
After all, they’re only kissing – he assumes – and Elaine is entitled to do whatever she likes, with whoever she fancies. He’s not going to police her. It’s the fact that this is happening within earshot, alerting him to the fact that somehow, he has relinquished control over his own flat – and by extension, his life.
On and on they go, slurping and giggling, and Elaine lets out an ecstatic sigh: aaaaaahhhh. It’s the first time they’ve met! Is this how it happens these days? You ‘chat’ for a while and the first time you meet in the flesh, you eat each other’s faces off? He’s become a prude, Shane realises with a flash of shame. A retired colonel from Frinton-on-Sea battering out a furious letter to The Telegraph.
She’s young, he reminds himself. Hang on – forty-five isn’t that young! Have some fucking decorum! At the sharp snapping noise, he flinches. That sounded like elastic being pinged. Is she taking her knickers off?
Shane jumps up from his bed, primed to do something. He just doesn’t know what. He’d barge out and exclaim, ‘Oh! Sorry!’ – but what if Valter has his cock out? This is crazy. It’s Shane’s flat and he should be able to roam it freely! The thing about overhearing this kind of stuff is, you feel like you’re the one who’s in the wrong. That you’re the perv for hearing anything, and you should magically transport yourself out of the vicinity, or at least possess noise-cancelling headphones, which Shane has never had any need for until now.
Go to your room, he wills Elaine. It’s the room his kids slept in regularly until a couple of years ago, and it still has the lilac feathery lampshade which Liv chose from IKEA. However, no sounds follow to indicate that Elaine and her beau are relocating to a more appropriate ‘space’. Then, suddenly: ‘Shane?’ she bellows. Ah, they’ve taken a break. ‘Shane, come and meet Valter!’
‘I’m busy just now,’ he shouts back.
Silence. Then, ‘He’s a bit uptight,’ Elaine hisses. Oh, is he really? His mobile rings and his heart jumps as he sees Josie’s name displayed.
‘Hello?’ he barks, trying to sound calm and normal.
‘Hi, Shane,’ she says levelly, and he senses her hesitation. ‘Is now a good time to talk?’
He is being summoned again by his housemate. He thought they were going for tapas! Why can’t she leave him alone? ‘Just on a call, Elaine,’ he yells back.
‘We’re off, then. Don’t wait up for us!’ She hoots with laughter. ‘See ya!’
The door bangs, and he clears his throat and tries to gather himself together. ‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ he tells Josie. ‘Sorry about that. So, erm, how did things go at work?’
She exhales forcefully. ‘Not very well. I seem to have walked out on my job. Or been sacked. I’m not quite sure which…’
‘Oh no! Because of the cheese?’
‘Yeah.’ She pauses. ‘He’s still convinced I sabotaged the order. As if I’d do that.’
‘As if!’ Shane exclaims, filled with outrage on her behalf. He strides out of his room towards the kitchen. It feels liberating, having his flat to himself for once.
‘Anyway,’ she says, ‘I’ve been thinking.’ He rubs at his chin, wondering what’s coming next. ‘About Ravi,’ she continues. ‘About her request – her instruction or whatever you’d call it – to us. And I wondered, perhaps we could actually do it?—’
‘You want to do this thing?’ he cuts in.
She seems to hesitate. ‘Maybe want isn’t the right word. More like, I feel we should, for Ravi…’
‘I feel the same,’ he says quickly.
‘Really? You do?’
‘Yes, really. If you want to, I mean. That guy with the van popped into the shop today…’
‘Boris?’ she says, and he can’t help smiling at that.
‘You remember.’
