Jake was nodding in time with the beat.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Love it.’
Marisa was taken aback. Jake almost never listened to music. He always preferred podcasts and Five Live for sport. She got the impression he was trying to be cool and ingratiate himself with Kate, which was pathetic really. But most of her ire was reserved for Kate, who was now bopping around the room, arms flailing as if she were at a gig.
‘Guys,’ Marisa said, directing her comment to Jake. He didn’t hear her. ‘HELLO?’ she shouted.
Kate stopped dancing abruptly. She was wearing leopard-print ballet pumps and skinny jeans and a T-shirt with ‘Ciao Amour’ splashed in sans serif across the front.
‘Oh. Hi,’ Kate said, her cheeks shiny.
Jake smiled at Marisa standing in the doorway as if nothing were amiss.
‘Could you turn the music down? I’m trying to work.’
Two pairs of eyes gazed at her, uncomprehending.
‘The music?’ Kate asked.
‘Yes.’ Marisa glanced at Jake meaningfully, trying to make her frustration understood.
‘It’s really not that loud,’ Kate said.
Marisa gasped. How dare she?
‘It’s loud enough that I had to put in earplugs.’
‘Ooookaaaaayyy,’ Jake said, drawing out the vowels unnecessarily. ‘Sorry about that.’
He went over to the speaker and stopped the music.
‘Thank you,’ Marisa said.
Kate had not moved from her position in the middle of the room. She was looking at Marisa, almost startled, as if Marisa were scaring her, as if she were the one being unreasonable.
When she had left, closing the door behind her, she had waited and listened at the door. Nothing. But when she reached the stairs, shecould hear muffled female laughter and the sound of Jake shushing her. The music started up again, this time more quietly.
‘Remember?’ Jake is asking now. ‘When you asked us to turn it down?’
‘Of course.’
He raises his eyebrows, his expression one of intense understanding, as if he is trying – really, trulytryingto be sympathetic to this pregnant woman’s needs. His eyes are so clear and blue they look unreal.
‘It was … disproportionate, wouldn’t you say?’
She wants to tell him to fuck off. Instead, she turns away from him, mutely buttoning up her fury.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jake says. ‘Perhaps that was out of line.’
‘Yes,’ she replies, rigid with annoyance. ‘Yes, it was.’
He sighs, and it is this – the audible exhalation intended to emphasise his ability to be infinitesimally patient – that finally pushes her over the edge.
‘Why are you taking Kate’s side over mine? It’s so unfair! I told you I didn’t boil the milk. The music was really fucking loud.’
‘It wasn’t.’
‘It was!’
